Page 85 of Liar

“No need,” I respond, pulling the cloak tighter over my shoulders. “I’m living on the edge.”

Thorne yanks at one of the double doors, revealing the opening to a cavern of black.

“The very edges of decent society,” I add quietly.

Applying slight pressure to my back, Thorne pushes me all the way in.

Chapter 26

Ember

We hear the chants before we see them.

“Altum volair in tenebris, altum volair in tenebris, altum volair in tenebris…”

We fly high in the dark.

I clench my hands to my sides, resisting the urge to hold Thorne so he can guide me through this mess.

It’s my mess, though. I was the idiot who tried to recruit Zeke and ended up putting Aiko in danger. Now Malcolm’s paying the price. I don’t reiterate that to Thorne as we descend into the school's catacombs. My half-baked plan would be obvious to a brand new Societal recruit, never mind the prince of the Nobles.

I need to own my mistake and clean up the mess like a good little girl.

Good girl.

Quieting the dirty inner voice, I stroll forward, keeping my sights on the flickering golden light at the end of the tunnel.

Thorne’s form is bathed in the glow first. He turns slightly, squeezing my arm. His lips move within the shroud of his cloak. “This is where I leave you.”

I place my hand on his, squeezing back until he lifts his from my shoulder.

Thorne’s stare takes on an ethereal glow despite the shadows flowing across his face. The fire sconces behind me add to the gleam, flecks of white flame nestling in the pale blue. It contains such ferocity that I prepare for what he’s about to say. That he loves me, too? That whatever happens, we’ll get through this fuckery together? That he craves my innocence as much as I covet his fetishes?

I must look too eager. Thorne jerks back, the inner firelight dying as he blinks. “Jaxon will find you.”

Those are his last words before Thorne steps into the stone octagon where Damion holds court.

There isn’t time to dwell or mull over Thorne’s body language. On a good day, he’s impossible to read. I just accept that he’s cracked my heart open while padlocking his.

I skitter behind one of the life-sized statues, clutching my hood tightly to my face as I peer around a bulging stone bicep to take stock of The Damion Briar Show.

And bite down on my knuckle to stifle a yelp when I see Malcolm, with his shirt stripped off and on his knees in front of Damion.

“We have in front of us a traitor,” Damion calls. The chanting dies down.

A particularly tall dark cloak flows through the circle of black-robed Nobles and golden Virtues, peppered throughout with the bloodred of viscounts—Damion’s henchmen. That cloak takes up residence beside Damion, pulling back his hood and sweeping a powerful gaze through his peers.

Thorne may refuse it, but he seems comfortable beside Damion, matching his father’s charisma and owning the room with a single, forward stare. I’m drawn to Thorne even as my biological father is forced on his knees in front of him.

“You’ve joined us at last,” Damion says to his son. “Did you find her?”

“No. Ember must’ve used one of the passageways she’s become so familiar with these past few months. We’ll discover where she is, though. She has to come back to school sometime.”

Damion makes a grunting sound, half approving, half pissed-off. “I’m of a mind to set you down beside Malcolm for your inadequacy.”

“Ember’s in unfamiliar territory, and we’ve isolated her from any friends she tried to make. She won’t last long, Father. I’ll see to it.”

Thorne’s conviction is so convincing I almost fall for it, too, until I remind myself that it was Thorne who got me out of Weatherby Manor and stowed me away, protecting me from his father.

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