Page 9 of The Lies We Conjure
“So… you think this story is actually about me?” I ask, slowly, hoping I’m understanding this whole bizarre tit for tat correctly and that he hasn’t just casually dismantled our entire ruse.
“Yes.”
I squint at him, a small, confused smile tugging at the corners of my mouth because whatever the heck is going on here was not outlined in his file. “Is that some sort of compliment?”
He tips his chin. “Please consider taking it as one.”
“Auden Hegemony,” Winter’s voice breaks in, chiding and insistent, “what kind of host are you?” She flourishes her mostly filled drink at him with a very toned arm. “Reacquainting yourself with one Blackgate but not the other. Don’t play favorites, it’s rude.”
I would not call his attitude toward me any sort of favoritism because what in the name of rich people wasthat? But I’ll happily accept the benefits of Winter’s instruction and Wren’s enthusiasm as she hops to her feet from where she’d settled in on the fountain’s edge for story time. “Kaysa,” she announces. “Lovely to meet you again, Auden.”
Wren’s tone is tickled—like she just can’t believe she’s meeting him at his very own home. And, as Auden is shaking her hand, I realize he didn’t afford me the same hospitality. Or even greet me really. Yet, as I watch, he goes through the same routine Winterexecuted, spending time talking to each and every person like he’s a politician or something.
Apparently, he doesn’t need or want my—Lavinia’s—vote.
With a delicate quirk of her brow and a pointed perusal of the garden, Wren announces, “I’ve collected two of the three Hegemonys. Now, where is the—”
“We’re not a set.”
My head whips around as a brooding, broad-shouldered boy steps into view. Warm brown skin, close-cropped dark hair, eyes the color of the shadowed depths of a forest floor, and the unmistakable air of Hegemony in his refined features.
Evander. The oldest cousin.
Eyes twinkling, Wren smiles at him like he’s exactly what she’s been waiting for. “That’s not what the collectors say. Hegemony sightings are very valuable on the black market.”
He doesn’t laugh, but Winter does. “Come now, Evander, isn’t it nice to be sought after? I won’t bore our guests with the travails of your love life but suffice to say your reputation as a sourpuss is not as sexy as one would assume.”
Evander simply meets Wren’s delighted expression, and deadpans, “I’d say sightings of the Blackgate heirs are much fewer and farther between.”
Heirs.Again. Used in a sentence by someone who just graduated high school. So formal. So weird. Maybe rich peoplearea different species.
“Well,” Wren says, a sly twist to her lips, “if there are stories to be had about Evander Hegemony’s love life travails, I can guarantee you’ll be seeing much more of us.”
Wren winks at Evander, her dark eye makeup shimmering in the floating glow of the lighting arrangement. This makes Winter laugh, Auden smirk, and Evander scoff.
No one, not even Evander, can deny it. They’re an obvious set.
And just as I’ve determined that, their final piece arrives.
In that moment, the volume of the party bleeds into nothingbut prim footsteps as the matriarch of Hegemony Manor appears on the stone veranda above the garden, framed by a slate of massive windows ablaze in reflection of the setting sun.
Ursula Hegemony is straight-backed and prim, a tall woman, who, even if not stationed above the party, would have no trouble looking down her nose at everyone around her.
That much I’d expected. What I don’t expect is her age. She should be a contemporary of Marsyas or Luna. But whether it’s a trick of genetics, the distance, or, perhaps, her obvious fortune, Ursula Hegemony doesn’t appear a day over forty.
“Welcome, welcome to Hegemony Manor, all of you.” Ursula’s graceful arms sweep wide and warm, even as she stands purposefully above and apart.
I realize this is her dinner party, but itisa dinner party, not a presidential address. Yet as I glance around, no one seems surprised, except for Wren, who mouths to me,Revival ofEvita?She gestures like she might burst into “Don’t Cry for Me, Argentina” before winking and returning her attention to the balcony.
Ursula continues in a strong, clear voice. “I have summoned you here as allies and friends, our most unusual and unbreakable family, for a night that is wholly ours.”
I wait for Ursula to launch into a full speech, but instead our hostess simply gestures to the long, beautifully appointed table.
“Please be seated—we will feast and then tonight’s business will begin.”
I am extremely happy to take that as my cue to start moving and latch myself back onto Marsyas’s arm as quickly as possible. Wren is more leisurely about doing the same, but she eventually pries herself away from Winter and Evander, who she clearly finds intriguing.
We’ve made it two steps in the direction of where the table is set under those gorgeous, glowing, floating chandeliers, when I feel Marsyas stiffen under my grasp. “Ursula, hello! You look as stunning as ever.”
