Page 2 of Liar's Heart
I don’t know if I could face him today. Not like this. And I could see Elliott Prescott saying he wasn’t going to let that stop him from being there for me today when my own father can’t. Or that he wasn’t going to let me walk down the aisle alone or let me go through with the wedding without knowing he still loves me. So much of Len’s ferocity was inherited from her father, one of the things I’ve always loved about them both. But if he comes in here right now, I’ll be a mess walking into that ceremony, and I can’t afford that.
Raising an eyebrow at me, she heads to the door, making sure to only open it enough to see her and not any further into the room. “Can I help you?”
I smirk at her cool tone, the complete opposite of how she was just cutting up with me. I release the breath I’d been holding. Based on her greeting, our visitor isn’t her dad.
The lilting baritone voice that replies sounds like its owner is attempting to personally raise the thermostat on this interaction by force of charisma. “I believe you’re the only one who can.” He clears his throat. “I’ve come to deliver a gift to the bride. From the groom.”
Lennon holds up a finger, indicating he should wait. Stepping back into the room, she grabs a deep-blue wooden boxthat I’d set aside earlier. Inside is my wedding present to the groom, a dagger with sapphires inlaid into the hilt. Ender Sinclair is known for his affinity for sharp, pretty things, after all. Lucky him that I am nothing but splintered, jagged edges wrapped in a pretty package.
Lucky him that I am what his family made me.
Len exits the room, tugging the door closed behind her. I’m too far away to make out what they’re saying, but I can hear them talking on the other side. She’s gone for long enough that I’m contemplating how quickly I can get over to the door to press my ear up against it, even with the train on this dress, and not get run over when she inevitably barrels back in here. I decide it’s not worth risking my makeup or a black eye for and walk over to the couch. At least I can get off my feet for a few minutes before we have to go. Based on how badly they’re already aching from these shoes, it’s going to be a long fucking night.
The door swings back open, admitting Len back into the room. She secures it behind her before joining me on the couch. “Roman Kincaid?” I ask.
Len confirms, “In the flesh.”
Roman is Ender’s best friend and business partner. The two met in prep school and have been inseparable ever since. Born to an affluent but non-Society family, Ender sponsored Roman’s membership bid during their college years. Years later, they started their own security tech development company together, Typhon. With a wild streak a mile wide, the dossier I’ve compiled on him is colorful, to say the least.
Len hands me the present, a sleek, black box tied with a satin ribbon bow that fits comfortably in both of my palms. Setting the box in my lap, I undo the bow and slide the lid off. Inside is a letter resting under a smaller velvet jewelry box. I reach for the letter at the same time Len reaches for the box. Thick, buttery paper unfolds to reveal a handwritten note, the strong, masculine slashes of the pen leaving little trenchesfilled with ink in its wake. I resist the urge to trace a finger along those lines, to feel the path the writer’s hand took, and focus on the words instead.
Merrick,
I know we agreed not to meet each other before the ceremony, so please forgive me for not delivering these personally, but I wanted you to have them before I’d be able to. These were my mother’s, and it would honor me greatly if you chose to wear them while we wed. See you at the end of the aisle.
Yours,
Ender
I cannot stop the grin that’s creeping up my face. “This is perfect.”
“That he got you a better gift than you got him?” she quips.
I smack her arm with the back of my hand. “He’s sentimental. A romantic. This is going to make him so much easier to play. And it means the odds of him ever taking his wedding ring off go down significantly.”
“And that matters…” She ponders, then realizes. “You put a fucking tracker in the ring.”
“I put a fucking tracker in the ring.”
Now she’s grinning too. “I love that devious little brain of yours.” She lightly wiggles the box in between us and asks, “Ready to see what fugly family heirloom we’re stuck with now?”
Taking it from her, I lift the hinged lid to reveal a gorgeous pair of platinum and diamond earrings. Princess-cut diamondstuds are nestled into the base, tipped on a point from which several dainty silver chains cascade down. Smaller diamonds sparkle throughout, making it look like two falling stars caught and stored in a velvet box. “These are… perfect,” I whisper, awestruck.
Len whistles low. “I take back everything I said about his mom’s taste.”
I make my way to the vanity to exchange the pearl studs currently in my lobes for these new ones, smoothing my long, black hair into a cascade of waves and checking my lipstick one last time. The earrings truly are beautiful. I take an indulgent moment to watch them move in the mirror before picking up the black half-mask that’s been waiting for me. It’s a fox, the same mask I’ve worn to official Society functions since becoming a full member when I reached adulthood, and I’m glad for the comfort of the familiar contours as I fit it to my face and secure it.
Turning, I find that Len’s in front of the full-length mirror, her mask already in place. The feline shape makes her crimson pout edge on predatory—her armor of choice. She looks every inch a lioness with her honey hair and sun-gilded skin, the all-black ensemble only making the woman underneath glow warmer. But I see the way she can’t stop running a finger over the same spot on the skirt of her dress in a little line, like her own personal metronome, meting out her anxiety beat by beat.
I wait for her to finish the final touch-ups to her appearance before I reach for her, my pinkie extended. Her eyes soften a little as she closes the distance between us and hooks her pinkie into mine—our little ritual. This woman is my other half, the only sister I’ve ever known. Night and day in appearance but matched in heart and soul. I know she’s scared. I am, too, but sometimes, being the one left behind is harder than being the one walking into danger. She and I bothlearned that lesson the hard way once, and now she has to relive it. Alone.
I lift our hands between us and whisper my vow over them. “I’m coming back, Lenny. I’m going to make those motherfuckers suffer, and then I’m coming home. I promise.”
“I know, Mer,” she whispers back. “Promise me you’ll be safe. I love you.”
I drop our hands to pull her into a hug. There won’t be a chance for us to talk to each other until sometime tomorrow. We’re usually in constant contact when we’re apart, and this feels like a goodbye. Another watershed we can’t undo once we leave this room. I squeeze my friend tight, soaking in her warmth and tucking it deep inside to sustain me. “I will. Promise. I love you too.”
She gives me one final squeeze. Then, with a sigh, slowly disengages. I watch her walk to the door and slip out, leaving me to face my fate alone. Stillness descends upon the room in her absence, and the reality of what's about to happen finally sinks in.
