Page 10 of The Lies We Conjure
My gaze snaps up and there, indeed, is Ursula Hegemony.
I have no idea how she arrived so quickly, but she’s only feet awaynow. This close, her eyes are as blue as tropical water and Ursula wields them with an intensity that confirms, without a shadow of a doubt, that she sees everything. I immediately regret prompting Wren’sEvitareenactment.
Marsyas’s grin stretches to the point where it might fall off her carefully powdered face and turns to us. “I’d like to reacquaint you with my granddaughters,” Marsyas announces. “Lavinia, my oldest, and Kaysa, my youngest.”
Wren offers a hand and a grin. “It’s fantastic to see you again, Mrs. Hegemony.”
Ursula’s eyes flick to Wren’s pink-polished nails and the swinging rabbit’s foot, and she sweeps her own hands together, lacing her elegant fingers in a clear, stunning denial.
Wren, ever the actress, drops her proffered hand as if it had never been raised at all. Ursula’s attention returns to Marsyas’s face. “I see you’ve prepared them for tonight, Marsyas.”
The old woman forces a chuckle at Ursula, even as her nails dig into my skin to the point where they’ll definitely leave a mark. “I’ve only had my heirs back a day. Their skills are still quite raw.”
“I do hope Athena is taking the heirs’ grooming seriously, Marsyas,” this woman says as if we’re not standing right here. “With Marcos gone, they are the Blackgates’ future.”
Marsyas swallows so deeply her spiderweb earrings sway, and I swear her eyes mist at this mention of her son. Unlike when Sanguine referred to Marcos, I’m fairly certain this allusion was meant to hurt. When Marsyas answers, her words are carefully etched. “My Marcos’s absence will forever be a chasm, Ursula.”
“A feeling I know quite well.”
Something passes between them. The losses of Ursula’s own children, most likely, though there’s an edge to that buried pain I can’t read. “Fortunate we are to have the next generation.” Ursula regards the two of us again and I would not be surprised if I glanced down and found my flesh burned straight through.
“We are so very happy to be here, Mrs. Hegemony,” Wren pipes up. Clearly trying to prove she’s perfectly pleasant and not botheredby the extremely precise, extremely coded small talk. “Your estate is lovely, and your grandchildren are so very welcoming.”
Ursula eyes my sister. Then, she extends her own hand—not to Wren, but to Marsyas.
“Come, Marsyas, we have much to discuss.”
I automatically take a step forward.
But Ursula’s mouth quirks at the sight of my assumed inclusion. “Just your matriarch, Lavinia.”
Marsyas drops our forearms and steps forward. Our hostess beckons to the party at large. “Auden? Evander? Please see to it that the Blackgate heirs are properly entertained at dinner.”
Great, we’re being assigned handlers.
As they arrive, Wren immediately latches onto Evander’s elbow, pleased as punch at this turn of events. An opportunity to flirt at close range. She’ll probably tease him about ghosts.
Meanwhile, Auden turns to me and offers his crooked arm—we apparently needed to add Regency-era actions to go with the Regency-era word choices. Then, he goes further, twisting his palm skyward so it’s open for the taking.
My brain short-circuits because this whole thing is so bizarre and when I know I’ve spent too long deliberating, I reach for my terrible accent and a bit of humor. “Such a gentleman, and only moments after accusing me of being a scone-throwing maniac.”
Auden smiles, but I have the distinct feeling it’s not for me. Something he seems to confirm when he admits, “I’m sure you of all people will understand that when my grandmother tells me to do something, I oblige.”
“That I do. I’m here because I wasn’t in a position to say no—to coming to this dinner or to my grandmother’s fashion choices.”
I lift the wrist nearest to him in demonstrative presentation, the black rabbit’s foot swinging morosely. It’s possible that I’ve waved it too hard because on the upswing, the taxidermic animal appendage grazes the side of his offered bare hand.
Auden jerks away as if I’ve bit him.
“It’s dead, Auden. It can’t hurt you.”
I attempt a smile. If he has an actual phobia, I’ve made things worse, and I have no idea how to remedy that.
But Auden simply tugs at his very expensive suit sleeves. “It comes with the territory. Part of what makes you a Blackgate.”
I have no idea what he’s getting at but I nod, because that seems like the right thing to do. But even that seems all wrong, and I have the suspicion that I’m trying so hard to be someone else that I’ve literally lost my grasp on how to be a normal human being. In an effort to reset, I turn away from Auden’s extremely handsome face and make it a point to watch the others situate themselves at the long rectangular table. Ursula at the head, the adults filling in up at the top. The kids round out the rest.
Then, Auden surprises me and offers his arm again.
