Page 77 of Liar
“I only wish we could stay there,” I mutter, leading her around the manor and through the gates.
“Weatherby tree house. I like the sound of it.”
I turn back enough to give her a sardonic smile. “Maybe I’ll build you one for your birthday.”
“That would presume you know when my birthday is.”
“June twelfth.”
Ember’s shoes scrape against the asphalt as she halts. “I’m sorry, but did Thorne Briar just admit to remembering something about me?”
“I remember you,” I respond without turning around. “All the time.”
That shuts her up. She can’t see it as I stride in front of her, but I smile again, this time at my ironic ability to quiet her with kind words rather than vicious insults.
I guess that says as much about me as it does her.
Ember follows me across the road and up the driveway to my house. We’re not going in, but we need a car to get to Winthorpe.
“Father has a good headstart on us,” I toss over my shoulder, “but he loves his rituals. We should get to Malcolm in time.”
“In time for what?”
I ignore the tremble in her voice because that would mean I care. “Malcolm committed the worst sin in the Society. He spoke to outsiders about our existence. Worse, to law enforcement.”
“Not the Societies,” Ember corrects. “Just Damion. That’s all he wanted to expose. Maybe if I got the chance to convince the members the Societies are safe…”
I swivel around, walking backward while I face her. It takes effort to ignore the eagerness on her beautiful, innocent face. “You’re as much an outsider as he is. You’re Malcolm’s daughter, previously unknown, currently untrustworthy.”
“I’ve excelled at every task the Societies’ have given me.”
“True. But you’re new and unpredictable. You don’t have the years of rule and commitment my father has for the Society to believe you over him. So unless you have a piece of info that could trump a traitor, I suggest we come up with another plan.”
Ember slows her pace. Something like pain flashes through her expression before she schools it into deliberate blankness.
My vision narrows. I stop my backward motion and stroll forward instead. “Ember? What is it?”
Her throat bobs with a slow swallow.
“If you have something to say, spit it out.” My voice cuts like shards of glass, but I can’t help it. There’s something about her expression that’s put me on edge.
She takes a breath. I’m about to throttle her when she finally starts talking.
“I may have some information which will freak you out, but I need you to stay calm. I’m the messenger, okay? Not the enemy.”
I arch a brow. It’s meant to cue her into continuing, though I suppose looming over her while I do it causes a threat.
Ember tilts her head until she’s almost at my eye level. She doesn’t shrivel under my stare.
“Promise me, Thorne.”
I scoff. “Fine. But it better be good.”
She swallows again. “It’s worse than good. It’s about your father.”
“There’s nothing you could say that would surprise me about my father.” I plaster on a fake smile. “Are you about to tell me about his hidden drug trade? I’m well aware of it, Ember. He’s grooming me to take it over.”
She purses her lips. My grin stretches wider. Nailed it. “Rather than waste our time going through the moralities of my father’s business, let’s fucking move our asses. Your father gets the priority this evening.”