Page 42 of A Liar's Twisted Tongue

I think of the flame in my dwelling, my hair catching fire… the Folk I killed. I wouldn’t say I found any gratification in that, but it doesn’t surprise me that this is how the privileged talk about us.

That this is how he would talk about me.

I can’t even imagine the things he’d say if he knew where I’m from.

“Have you ever met a Fire Folk?” I try to keep the edge from my tone and fail.

“One or two.” He stops for a moment, looking like he’s contemplating something. Then, he says with a smile and an observing tone, “I think they’re dead.”

And I think he’s trying to provoke me. For what purpose, I don’t know.

“Right.”

We fall into silence while we make our way through the mastick and travel over jagged, slippery rocks until I find myself looking out over a body of water. It seems to go on forever, which is something I’ve never seen before. Compared to the murky waters back home, this glimmering turquoise is as clear as glass.

I envy its magnificence, the beauty in its very nature, a beauty I will never have.

Lucian turns to me and opens his arms wide, the way he did the night that I saw my mom in her cage.

“Shoot me,” he says.

“What?”

“Send your fire at me.”

I look around. Of course I’ve walked into a trap. “You said you needed my help.”

“I do. I need you to use your magic against me.” I stare at him for a moment, my eyebrows scrunching in their confusion. Confusion that I don’t bother concealing. “Come on, darling. Show me what you got.”

“And you called me a masochist,” I mutter.

He smirks. “You did say you enjoyed being almost choked to death.”

I reach out for his power again, something to channel to put on a good enough show. There’s nothing. Absolutely nothing.

“I can’t shoot fire.” And he damn well knows it.

“Alright,” he says. “Then start a fire. I’ll put it out.”

“Do you know how hard it is to put out the Flame? It’s nearly impossible, hence why so many of us die.”

“Trust me, I can put out a fire.”

“But it’s not just a fire,” I say again, unable to mask my irritation. “It’s the Flame.”

His midnight-blue eyes shift into an incandescent blue as black spirals wrap around his hands. They continue to grow until half his arm is covered entirely by the shadows. “Start a fire, or I’ll shoot.”

Suddenly, I’m sure I am going to die. And when a shadow flies in my direction, it’s all I can do to duck. Chills cover my entire body.

I forgot that the Lucent’s don’t just wield shadows—they wield the cold.

“What kind of help is this?” I shout.

He steps closer to me. “I had thought you had a power that could rival my own.” He’s in my face now, smiling, taunting, when he says, “Where’s your fire?”

Why would an Aibek, a prince, think that I’m powerful enough to rival him? I mean, I’d love to beat him. But I know I can’t, and I can’t stand to show him that. So I turn away and say, “I’m not doing this.”

The prince doesn’t protest while I walk away. He doesn’t even say goodbye. I wouldn’t have expected walking away from an Aibek to be so easy, but here I am.

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