Page 13 of Liar
He should’ve known that.
Idiot.
Speaking of which, is he in this room? As a tarnished member, Malcolm attends these meetings only when summoned. I haven’t seen him mingling with our members since our ball when Ember’s future was ripped out of her naïve hands.
But with my father’s current speech, there’s no doubt he’ll want Malcolm to listen. He dips his chin at the headmistress, allowing her the floor.
“It is with my greatest pleasure,” she begins, “to re-introduce to you our former Virtuous princess, whom we thought lost, but has now returned to us. To say I am proud of her would be an understatement. This girl—no, woman—survived what no person should have to endure. She is our Virtuous sister, our Societal daughter, our endless treasure. Please join me in welcoming back Savannah Merricourt into our open arms.”
Heads tilt up and staccato applause erupts throughout the room. I lift my hands in a soft clap, but I’m alert to the pauses between Dupris’s words.
And my father’s motives.
Ember’s still not here. Why isn’t she here? She wouldn’t have picked this night, of all nights, to actually listen to me and stay away. The girl didn’t blink at a night swim through November waters. There’s no way she’d miss this.
Father and Dupris part, stepping to opposite sides and creating a gap that highlights the special entrance solely reserved to the king and queen of the Societies.
A slim silhouette appears in the middle of the stone archway, dressed in a long white gown and holding a bouquet of white roses.
She walks forward, and as her long, blond hair breaks through the shadows, my first thought is: Ember.
Her face comes next, pale, serene, flawless. Too composed to ever be confused with Ember.
Savannah’s rosebud lips part in a small smile as she reaches Father and Dupris. Father kisses her cheek, which she demurely accepts. Dupris puts an arm around her shoulders and squeezes.
As Dupris fusses over Savannah, Father lifts his head and finds me, his eyes drilling like small daggers into the folds of my skin.
So much for my little slice of private viewing.
I was supposed to walk by Savannah’s side as her prince. This is the first time I’ve so openly defied him and there’s no doubt he’ll up the ante later. This time, however, I’m prepared for it and would rather endure another whipping than perform as his puppet in front of some of the most powerful people in the world.
Savannah murmurs something to Dupris, then takes the small staircase down into the crowd of members, offering each person a rose as they welcome her and praise her safe return. I expect, after the distribution of flowers, she’ll make a soft speech of her own before the members break off and gossip over cocktails and world domination.
It’s the moment when Savannah gives a backward glance that I’m alerted to the wrongness that’s been weighing on me all evening.
She stares between Father and Dupris, toward the stone archway she passed through, a single rose remaining in her grip.
It’s half-wilted, the least desirable of the bouquet, bruised and losing petals.
Savannah holds it up, and, while in the center of the circle of members, says, “This is for my temporary replacement. For there can only be one of us.”
“That’s right,” Father affirms as Ember appears under the archway, as colorless as the catacombs, her eyes wide but her jaw tense. “As has been tradition for hundreds of years, there can only be twelve of you at any given time.” Father’s cold eyes find mine again. “And I’m afraid we’re at the unlucky number thirteen.”
I vault off the wall.
Chapter 5
Ember
ONE HOUR EARLIER
I’m sitting in a family crypt, a windowless, granite box with a fire bowl in the center, illuminating the carved names on the wall.
Theodore Edward Briar
Sophie Morag Briar
Damion Anthony Briar