Page 17 of Liar

Shadows play across the old walls, aided by the mischief of fire sconces lighting our way through the passageway. I haven’t been in this part of the school before, but I’m confident we’re still at Winthorpe since my pillowcase captor—probably Luke—didn’t drag me far before snipping off the zip-ties at my wrist and tossing me in the tomb with Savannah.

We don’t have to walk far before an arc of light ahead illuminates our path better than the ancient sconces. Those tiny flames do little to stop the shivers trailing up and down my exposed skin. The crypt, as creepy as it was, offered little air and therefore a lot of heat. Out in the open, Savannah and I are both exposed and freaking freezing. I hear her teeth chattering behind me. I don’t have to look back to assume she’s hugging herself, her nose buried in the smell of roses, and that delicate spine of hers bowed over in some sort of protective fear.

Let the suspense be over soon.

I’ve found, during these months of challenges, it’s better to know your enemy than face him blind. This time, I don’t even have the clue of walking down the cliffside to figure out what we’re being asked to do next.

The tunnel glows with light as we make our way closer to an arched opening.

Abruptly, a forearm digs into my stomach.

“Oof.” I almost bite off my tongue at the unexpected force.

Luke’s hard profile doesn’t turn. His elbow digs into my ribs. “Stay here. Wait for your summoning.”

“Yes, master.”

The sarcasm escapes him. One corner of his lips curves at my perceived submissiveness.

I move my jaw to collect more spit. He notices, jerking his arm away from my body.

He offers that same elbow to Savannah. “You’re up first.”

Savannah eyes his arm. “What do I have to do?”

“You don’t remember?” he asks. “Come on, you weren’t gone for a decade. You know the drill. Go out there, talk the talk, kiss the ring, enjoy being the center of attention as the long-lost princess of the Virtues.”

My jaw unlocks. She was the Virtue Princess?

“F-fine.” Savannah steps out of the safety of the shadows and turns toward the light.

Chanting reaches our ears and the low drone of Damion’s voice. I’ve never been in the adjoining room, but it’s easy to picture Damion standing in the center with a handpicked collection of members to hang on to his every word. And like Luke said, kiss the ring.

“Go on,” Luke prods. Unlike with me, he doesn’t yank Savannah around or push her forward. He merely waits.

At last, her attention strays from his proffered arm. She looks toward the archway. “I can do it myself.”

“Good girl,” he says.

I mime gag me behind his back.

Savannah catches it, her lips twitching with an amused smile. I reciprocate, then nod in encouragement. If Luke isn’t forcing her, chances are she’s only moving forward to be welcomed, not punished.

I save what could be planned for me in a separate compartment of my brain, reminding myself that it’s nothing I can’t overcome when there’s nothing left to lose.

Savannah lifts her head. I watch as her features smooth, a confident mask settling in place.

She really is a vision, with the scoop neck, ivory dress covered in pearls and ending in a mermaid cut. Her hair and makeup somehow survived the transfer from wherever she was to the Briar crypt. Savannah puts one foot forward, then the next, as graceful as a swan, despite being barefoot. I picture her chanting in her head, One more step. Just one step at a time, before she disappears through the archway.

As soon as she’s out of sight, applause erupts, Savannah’s reception warm and encouraging.

Luke and I are left in the dark alone.

Shockingly, he ignores me, crossing his arms and staring into the open space Savannah once occupied.

I keep as silent as a mouse, unwilling to trigger his attention, even as a smart-ass. The closer it comes to my time, the more nervous I feel. There’s no bouquet of roses for me, nor do I have hope that my appearance in front of the Societies will be followed by applause.

I’m a Weatherby legacy, but my biological father is a Noble disgrace. If the Societies knew to add “turncoat” to his list of sins, I’d not only be unwelcome, but likely killed.