Page 62 of The Lies We Conjure
“Watch your hands.”
The moment Wren’s eyes narrow on her own palms, Evander whispers under his breath. As the final word falls from his lips, Evander snaps his fingers.
A ball of fire appearsinWren’s hand.
Smokeless, orange, and completely spherical.
My sister doesn’t cry out in pain, she doesn’t react at all except the tiniest flare of her eyes as she hooks onto the light, unblinking.
Under its spell.
“Did Marsyas Blackgate kill Ursula Hegemony?”
“I don’t know.”
Immediately, the ball shivers from where the base touches Wren’s hand, flaring green as an emerald.
I try to swallow, but now my throat doesn’t work along with my burning lungs, traffic-jam gut, and my eyes, which don’t leave my sister’s hands. I suppose I should be thankful I can actually see this color change, if not whatever magic is behind it. Just like with Hex’s hunt spell and Auden’s disguise of the driver last night, I can see the effects, if not the actual work going into it.
Evander asks his second question, his concentration sharp under the heavy furrow of his brows.
“Did Marsyas Blackgate tell you or your sister about her plans to disappear, or instruct you about what to do after she left?”
“No.”
The fire flares back to orange and my knees lock. It’s possible Marsyas pulled Wren aside. It’s possible the old woman put a spell on my sister and drew her into her plan. It’s possible she’s lying without knowing.
All those possibilities pound in my ears as I watch the light as if under compulsion myself, unable to look away.
But then, the ball flares green.
A muscle in Evander’s jaw twitches.
“Ask if they killed Ursula,” Hector stage-whispers.
“Or if they know who did,” Sanguine adds.
“And use her first name to preface the question, it’s much more accurate,” Ada sniffs.
Winter, Auden, and Infinity all turn to shush them. But I can’t break my gaze from the concentration of my sister’s eyes on the fire ball, and Evander watching her.
Finally, he asks his third question. “Where is Marsyas Blackgate right now?”
There’s a groan from the direction of the Cerises at Evander’s choice not even to consider their advice, as spelled Wren answers again, in a strong voice. “I don’t know.”
Three of the four Cerises toss their tracksuited arms up in frustration as, again, the ball shifts from green to orange to green.
Evander nods at the final color change, whispers, and again snaps his fingers. The ball disappears. He’s left holding Wren’s hands as she blinks herself awake—at him, at me, at all our faces.
She clasps both Evander’s hands in hers. “I passed?!”
“You passed.”
All the air in my lungs leaves me in a slow leak, my chest burning as I smother a sigh of relief.
“I mean, obviously. Because I’m telling you the truth.” Wren hugs my arm and yanks me to her. “We’re both telling the truth.”
“Perhaps, but we know nothing new about Ursula’s death,” Hector argues. “We have no definitive answer about if Marsyas murdered Ursula, only that the Blackgates don’t know if Marsyas murdered her.”
