Page 29 of Liar's Heart
Stunned silence. Not disgust or even fear. Shock is what I’m feeling as I sit here and try to process what’s in front of me. It’s not like I didn’t know. But to see it all laid out at once, even knowing it represents a decade or more of work… it’s so much. Maybe it’s hypocritical of me, considering I’ve killed more than my fair share of people over the years, but my kill count isnothingcompared to this.
And maybe that’s the heart of the issue—I allowed myself to forget who and what Ender is, the legacy he represents. Because the man I’ve come to know over the last month doesn’t act or think orfeelanything like I thought he would. He’s not the monster his father had hoped to create, at least not anymore. Is that enough to absolve him of his sins?
Do I want it to be?
I nestle the trays back into their box, latch it closed, and return it to its spot before picking up the file from where I left it on the corner, like the answers to these questions are going to be hidden in it. Thumbing through the papers, I find a variety of documents that span the last fifteen years or so. I skim through them until I find something that gives me pause. The words “Petition for Dissolution of Marriage” sit in heavy, bold letters across the top of the page. Pulling the piece of paper free, I read the first paragraph: “Comes now the Petitioner, Elora Sinclair, against Respondent, Alec Sinclair, filing in open court to request a hearing for the dissolution of the marriage between parties…”
I blink once. Twice. But the words on the page remain. Elora Sinclair filed for a divorce. Or, at least, she drafted a petition for one. There’s no file stamp indicating it was ever recorded with the courts, but still. There is no such thing as divorce, according to the Society. Once the contracts are signed and blood is shared, the only way out is death. I might as well be holding a death warrant in my hands because that’s exactly what the end result of this would have been—a traitor’s death. Elora would have been free from Alec, but only at the expense of her life.
Ender never mentioned the circumstances under which his mother died. People die abruptly all the time in our world, the reasons buried right along with them. But this?This is suicide the hard way. What the hell happened to this woman to make her choosethisas her final stand?
A sharp pang knocks me square in the chest. Losing my parents was hard, but I never had to live with the knowledge that they left me on purpose. They got into that car with no idea that they would never reach their destination or see me again. But for Ender to have found this? He would have known what it meant. He would have known the choice she made.
Replacing the paperwork, my fingers find cool, creamy paper bearing the Society’s seal next. My blood turns to ice in my veins as I read the header on the page: “The Last Will and Testament of Lennox Prescott.”
I've seen Ox's will before. Len was the executor of his estate, and I was with her throughout that whole process. But that will was the one recognized by law, filed with attorneys, and publicly executed. This one would be for Society use only.
One we didn’t know existed.
It's nearly identical to the one we had a copy of. Near identical, except this one contains a paragraph at the end the other one didn’t. “Upon my death, the bridal contract of Merrick Lockwood shall be transferred from myself, Lennox Prescott, to Ender Sinclair, for execution as he sees fit.”
My hands shake both from the words I just read and what’s on the page immediately below. There, in bold ink, sits the sharp, angular signature of Lennox Prescott, Testator. Next to it, in slanted, looping cursive, is the signature of Ender Sinclair, Witness.
The second thedoor slams shut behind me, I slide down it to the floor, willing the solid wood at my back to anchor me. I'm not even sure I turned the lights off in the study between shoving the file back into the cabinet and taking off. I flew out of there and didn't stop until I was safely locked behind our bedroom door. Pressing the heels of my palms into my eyes, I try to force my thoughts to arrange themselves into some semblance of order.
Ender has a copy of Ox's will.
Ender has a copy of Ox's will because he's named in it.
Ender has a copy of Ox's will because my bridal contract was transferred to him when Ox died eight years ago. A contract I had no idea existed.
Pressure builds behind my eyes as tears attempt to escape past my hands, but I can’t make myself set them free. If I start falling apart now, I might not stop. I might not be able to stop. Ox's death irrevocably broke me. Over time, some of the jagged edges of the broken pieces of my heart have worn down and dulled, but every so often, it still feels like I grab a sharp piece and cut myself all over again in my grief.
This revelation feels like I just droppedthem all and watched them shatter into smaller, sharper fragments as they scatter across the floor.
Ox loved me. I have never,everdoubted that. He made certain I always knew how important I was to him, even as kids. The three of us were thick as thieves, wild and running barefoot in the woods behind Prescott House. I’d chase after the golden twins, weaving in and out of the trees like Apollo and Artemis on the hunt, only for Len to take off after something and ditch us. Ox would always stay with me, knowing I couldn’t navigate those woods for shit until we got older. He called me Nyx, the night to his sun, and insisted there couldn’t be one without the other.
It stayed like that until the summer after we graduated from high school, when it became clear that our feelings for each other were evolving into something that burned brighter than it ever had before. That summer, I spent my nights on the back of his bike, arms wrapped around his torso while I savored the cold, clear scent of rushing air mingled with his leather jacket and cologne. Sometimes, we’d find a secluded spot to pull over and stargaze, tracing shapes in the night sky and making love beneath a canopy of trees sparse enough to still see diamonds glittering through the branches. Or we’d sneak into each other's rooms for the night, only to watch the sunrise together before parting.
Dawn was our time, Ox always insisted. Even if it meant our time together was about to run out, he still made the end special.“Dawn is where night and day can be together, even if it’s not for long enough. It’s you and me, Nyx. Even if we’re pulled apart in the daylight, our reunion is inevitable. Because we’re inevitable.”
Looking back, we must have been so obvious to everyone around us, but our families let us keep our secrets while we explored the new feelings growing between us. Not that anyone would have objected—our families had long since been allied both socially and professionally. They heavilyencouraged the three of us to bond, hoping our friendships would grow into at least business relationships later in life. A love match between our families would have been the ideal scenario in their eyes, but they still gave us the space to figure things out for ourselves.
College was much the same—playing the dutiful roles of Len’s best friend and brother by day and secret lovers by night. We both wanted more, but we knew it wasn’t the time to pursue that, and what was a few years when we had the rest of our lives ahead of us? When we’d been together our whole lives already? And then my parents died during our senior year of college, completely changing the trajectory of our lives.
Our parents had been working on a business merger that would have resulted in Ox ultimately receiving his own firm after gaining some experience within the company, but that plan died right along with my parents. Everything went on hold for the funerals, then executing the estate and restructuring my parents' businesses. By the time the dust began to settle, we were so close to graduating it didn’t feel like a priority to pick back up. Ox still had a job upon graduation. The merger would come one way or another. We never discussed it, but I think we both assumed it would be easier to roll the merger into a marriage contract and kill two birds with one stone.
Ox had taken on a role as an enforcer between our two families as he’d gotten older, both by virtue of working for his family full time and because the full responsibility of House Lockwood sat on my shoulders. My parents didn't often have to resort to muscle to see their way through business dealings, but it wasn't entirely unheard of. There were, of course, those who saw my parents’ deaths as an opportunity for their own advancement. The only obstacle between them and my family’s fortune was a naive young woman who could easily be manipulated. Eventually, word spreadabout how wrong they were, but not before I had collected a few hearts for myself.
More than one night ended with Ox and me pulling each other into the shower, scrubbing the blood and tissue out of each other’s hair. We watched the water run red, then pink, then clear as we scrubbed each other down, careful to get underneath fingernails and behind ears before allowing our touches to turn heated. Only then would we collide, kissing and nipping until he’d pin me against the shower wall before picking me up and wrapping my legs around his waist. I’d cling to him, sucking at his neck and nipping at his jaw while he lined himself up and let gravity slowly join us once more.
The slow, exquisite stretch was a homecoming, a reminder that we weren’t just the people we had to become to keep from being eaten alive in this world. That we were still Ox and Merrick, Apollo and Nyx, and we could always bring each other back, always find our way back to who we were. He’d pin me against the cool, slick tiles of the shower while he fucked into me over and over again until we both cried out in pleasure, remembering in the aftermath of our orgasms that we were still alive and whole and here.
A year later, while we were still tangled in bed, sweaty and sated, he told me that the Council had ordered him to join Charon’s Ferrymen. Ox reminded me that it was an honor. That he’d only have to stay in Fallenford for a few years, then he’d be able to request reassignment back home with me, to marry me and begin our lives together. In the meantime, we would continue to steal time together, just like we always had. What was sacrificing proximity for a few years in the face of the rest of our lives?
The appointment made sense, and refusing the Council would have been unheard of. So we packed him up, and I sent him off to Fallenford, eager to get that phase of our lives behind us as quickly as possible.
We did our best to see each other at least once a month—either he would come home for the weekend, or I’d steal away to visit him there. Sometimes, we’d find a hotel halfway between us and meet there so we could lock ourselves away and pretend the outside world no longer existed for the little time we'd stolen. But our sunrise always came, pulling us apart again until the next time we were reunited.
