Page 67 of The Lies We Conjure
“Whomever we run into first—the Blackgates might not be as clueless as they appear to be, and the Cerises have generations of motive. Win, if you see either group out there when you’re with Infinity, join forces. They’ll appreciate a knowledgeable Hegemony, and we’ll work both sides of this thing as much as we can.”
CHAPTER21
RUBY
“Your impulsivity is going to get us killed,Kaysa.”
Wren scrunches up her nose. “Orexonerated,which is what just happened, may I remind you. Impulsivity isn’t the same thing as stupidity.”
As the Hegemonys dealt with the body and Infinity settled Luna back inside, the Cerises announced that we shouldn’t waste time and split up to search for the master relics. To wit, they’d piled into a tank of a black SUV and hit the two locations available via the single access road marked on the north side of the grounds: the Field of Stars and Shadrack’s Lookout.
They probably had room for us in that massive thing, but we told them we’ll hit the two locations we’d been assigned as part of Auden’s group before everything went south—the Pool and Horace’s Last Stand.
We’re alone now—which means I have a chance to lay into Wren about her apparentdeath wish.
I sigh, words loading on my tongue as we navigate the artfully crafted flat stones that curl down the drop from the manicured garden and lawn of Hegemony Manor to the unkempt wilds of the land beyond. Wren has skipped ahead, fingers trailing along the delicate ivory skin of an Aspen when she pauses in her descent long enough to lob one more preemptive strike before I deepen my attack.
“I knew what I was doing.”
My sister’s tone is fierce and the look in her eyes purposefully cutting. This is how it goes with us—I try to protect her, to teach her, and am summarily rewarded when her shame lashes out, going for the bone in an effort to avoid any unfair correction from her big sister who can do no wrong.
“Wren,” I whisper, “I know you think you’re the best actress in the county, but you can’t out-act the truth. What if they’d asked you point-blank if you were really Kaysa Blackgate? We’ve all seen those lie-detector scenes on TV. They start with known facts to set a baseline. What if they’d done that and simply asked your name like the Cerises suggested? You would’vefailed.”
And failing in this case means punishment at the hands of people who hold their own investigations, trials, and executions without an ounce of constitutional oversight.
Wren seems to have chosen to give me the silent treatment in answer, skipping down the last three steps to a patch of dirt that has three thin ribbons of trail snaking off into the scrub and columbine. Right in the middle, there’s a wooden sign with a list of destinations on it, very much like the more official-looking ones in Rocky Mountain National Park.
Three of the six locations we need to search—the Pool, Horace’s Last Stand, Little Bear Den—are listed among a jumble of other destinations, along with various mileage. Wren checks the trail against the grounds map on her phone—we all took pictures instead of opting to carry a full map—and heads down the middle path, stomping footsteps kicking up puffs of dry dirt, pine needles, and navigating pellets of deer poop. When I catch up, she’s finally decided to answer me.
“Ruby, they’re witches, not cops. They wouldn’t have done that because they think their magic is infallible.”
“For all we know itisinfallible.”
I snag her wrist and tug her to a halt. Wren doesn’t fight me, though she brazenly pretends I’m not right in front of her, annoyed expression pointed toward the crests and crevices beyond. I shove my own frustrations down—she won’t look me in the eye? Fine. I’ll force her to listen.
“Your impulsivity is apattern. A dangerous pattern. One you’ve had from the beginning. You said yes to Marsyas and got us in this mess. You abandoned me in the reading room instead of thinking it through. And now you played Russian roulette with a typeof magic that could’ve…” I lower my voice as much as possible, “outed both of us.”
Wren is as still as stone. Somehow that hurts more than if she’d flinched. Her lips thin as her gaze flicks to my face, hazel eyes hard as amber.
“But Ididn’t.” She’s emphatic. “And now they won’t try to truth-spell us again. I saved our asses, and nobody thinks we did anything. You’re welcome.”
“The cost was too great! Not just the potential outing, which we’re lucky we avoided—”
“Iavoided for us.”
“You avoided, yes, but if Marsyasdidn’t do it,now that we’re not scapegoats, we’ve blown the artificial cover of the real killer. That could make ustargets. We could’ve just enraged the real killer.”
Wren tosses her head back in exasperation. “I’ll take rage over the magical punishment for a murder we didn’t do. There’s no ‘I told you so’ in the afterlife.” She throws herself forward, leaning in now, arms wide and bangs swinging. “We need to do all we can to make sure that no one thinks we murdered Ursula by the end of the next, what, thirty-eight hours? What I did just now went a loooooong way toward opening a window and airing out that stupid cloud of suspicion over us after Marsyas jetted. You can’t argue with that.”
“I can’t,” I admit. “But the punishment for Ursula’s death isn’t the only danger here, and we need to respect that. I know there’s the X factor of Marsyas being the killer, but we have to ignore that. It’s best to assume that one of these people is the murderer and that they’d do it again in a heartbeat to keep punishment off the radar.”
“Of course we do! Of course they will! We’re in danger! I heard you the first time this morning when you completely overreacted.” She launches herself toward me, jabbing me in the ribs. “But whatIthink is that you don’t get thateveryoneis in danger. Heck, Ursulawrote it right into the rules—they’re not supposed to use magic against each other. She knew things would get ugly.”
God, she’s right.
Wren’s full mouth twists, knowing she’s managed to touch on something I haven’t considered. “I’m not an idiot, Ruby. I know what I did was a gamble. Yes, the killer might want a scapegoat or two, but you know what they want more than that? The title. Don’t forget that either.”
There’s triumph in her voice and carriage.
