Page 68 of The Lies We Conjure
“You’re treating this too much like a game, Wren.”
“Itisa game. A screwed-up game, butIwas right, and with apologies to grumpy, hot Evander, it is one. The prize is the title. The murder of Ursula was a means to an end, a starting gun.”
I snag her wrists again, the metal pieces of our bracelets clacking while the rabbits’ feet bump. It’s stupid but at this point I feel I can only get her to listen by grounding her as much as possible in the here and now with actual, physical me, standing before her. “Yeah, but we’renotplayers. We were never players.”
“That’s not true. Marsyas brought us in.”
“As decoys, as pawns, as two replaceable targets to sub in for her granddaughters who areso irreplaceable,they’re hidden away on another continent!”
My sister grins at the frustration in my voice.
“And we need to knowwhy.” Wren wriggles completely out of my grip. “And before you suggest sneaking back into the house and paging through books, let me point out even you know deep down that actuallytalkingto these people is far more efficient.” She points down the trail. “Let’s get out there and see who wants to win.”
My heart quivers, tips, plummets.
“Fine.” I bite my lip. “But if we’re going to do that, we should follow the Cerises. They’re the only ones we know for sure are out here already, and therefore the ones we can learn from. Who knows when the Hegemonys and Infinity will start searching.”
Wren slaps a hand against her thigh, triumphant. She’s so excited in fact that she doesn’t complain about how it would’ve been nice if I’d come to this conclusion when we could’ve hitched a ride. Instead, she sweeps past me, crunching over rocks and hopscotching over thick tufts of scrub to off-road to the trail leading to the Field of Stars and Shadrack’s Lookout. “There you go. Thank you for seeing it my way.”
I follow and when we’re shoulder to shoulder on the trail and angling to the northern corner of the estate, I reiterate, “But we’re not just talking to them—if the conditions are right, we need to observe these people in a situation where they don’t think they’re being watched or overheard. It’s not so much what they will tell us as what they will tell each other when we’re not around.”
Wren’s light attitude has returned, quick as a pendulum swing. She elbows me and winks. “I think you’re underestimating what someone will tell me, sis.”
Oh, for heaven’s sake.
“Please tell me you’re not going to flirt with anyone upright and breathing. You’re going to give them the wrong idea.”
Her face breaks into the picture of exasperation. “Who said I’m giving them the wrong idea? I genuinely like some of them. And do you not recall that I rated everyone a nine and above on my own personal attractiveness scale before we even set foot beyond these gates?”
“I can’t forget that.”
“AndIcan’t help that flirting is my superpower. I’ll get us some good info.” She raises a finger and boops me on the nose.Jesus Christ.“Andthe more these people like me and feel that I like them, the safer it makes me—and you.”
“Not if one of them has a jealous streak.”
“There’s not enough time to get jealous, Rubes. I’m the least of their worries.”
“Yes, but you’re themostof my worries.” I twine our pinkies together—reckless because I’m skating too close to using our sisterpromise code too often this weekend. But with all that’s on the line, it’s just… I can’t not do it. “Wren—”
“I’m trying to make sure in my own way that we aren’t murder material. Okay. Please, just—you’re older, and you’re less impulsive and whatever.” It’s a whisper—not exasperated, not bratty, but full-throated, pointed, sincere, if not quiet. And though she jabs me in jest at herself, her eyes are serious and maybe a little sad. “But I have my strengths too.”
I kick a small rock and it skitters off the trail and into the underbrush. “I know.”
“Let me use them. Without second-guessing or mom-ing me. I might not be doing things the wayyouwould do them, but that doesn’t mean they don’t work. It doesn’t mean we aren’t a team if we do things our own way.”
She’s right. She is.
Still, I slip my hand into my tights pocket. I present the butter knives I retrieved this morning. “Look, just before you do anything else your way, take one of these.”
The polished silver glints in the high morning light and Wren skids to a halt, incredulous. “Are you kidding me?”
“You’re the one who just pointed out that everyone is in danger. They have magic. It’s not unreasonable for us to have something too.”
Wren smooths a lock of hair behind her ear. “I could make a joke about bringing a knife to a gunfight but I won’t because technically they can’t use their magic against Lavinia and Kaysa Blackgate.”
Now I’m the one rolling my eyes. I snatch her hand, open it, and press the metal into her palm. “Take the knife.”
“It doesn’t go with my outfit.”
