Page 3 of Liar's Heart
Eight years ago, Ender and his father, Alec, killed the man I love. Alec Sinclair believes that his position as Charon, the leader of the Society’s hitmen and ferrier of souls, makes him untouchable, letting himself be protected by his wealth, reputation, and the Ferrymen he commands. I’ve found, for the most part, that he’s right. Gaining access to him hasn’t been easy, especially the kind of prolonged access I’m seeking. But where Alec has built layer upon layer of security for himself, he’s left one glaringly obvious weakness—his heir.
Ender Sinclair was once the worst of them all. Not only Alec’s heir but his protégé. In the decade he spent working as a Ferryman, he built a reputation for his brutality and finesse, both culminating in his trademark of keeping his victims alive far into the process of enucleating their hearts. Quite the popular party trick considering the Society rule that you can keep theheart of those who wrong you if the transgression is severe enough. Clients who pay Charon to take a soul want the heart attached to it, and a lot of them are willing to pay extra for their victims to be alive through as much of that process as possible.
The heir of Charon was his father’s pride and joy, a monster of his own creation, until one day he just… stopped. Roman too. They both still officially hold positions as Ferrymen, but neither has taken a job in years—not since they started Typhon. Alec’s feelings on the subject are well known, and the more he tries to dig his claws in and bend his son to his will, the further back Ender withdraws, creating a situation I am all too happy to exploit. Lone wolves are still dangerous, but they're easier to kill than a united pack.
Once I realized my way in, the plan came together easily. The Society takes marriage very seriously, requiring all of its members to obtain permission from Hera before they wed. Traditionally, the position of Hera arranged marriages for everyone, secured marriage contracts, and tracked the lineage of members, making sure power remained balanced when families combined. The currently reigning Hera still does all those things, but in modern times, it’s not uncommon for a hopeful couple to suggest themselves as a match, with a sizable donation, of course. And Hera tends to pull through for her lovebirds. She barely batted an eye when I approached her, check in hand, to request that when Ender Sinclair came to her in want of a wife, my name would be the one that ended up next to his on the contract.
Two months ago, I got the call.
For eight long years, I’ve plotted and schemed, grieved and raged. All for this—the day I’d walk into the Sinclair family and break them from the inside out. They took everything from me once. It’s time to return the favor.
Church bells ring, calling out the hour and letting me know it’s time. I make one last stop at the mirror, confirming my oxblood lipstick hasn’t smudged and my mask remains inplace. The sun is beginning to set, and beams of dying light reach through the windows to caress my skin, lighting the shimmer on it in an ethereal glow. I look like more than a bride. I look like a goddess. Nemesis incarnate with wings of bridal white trailing behind her as she seeks those who have earned her judgment.
The bells stop, the room growing quiet once more. Time’s up. The first step forward takes every ounce of willpower I possess. And even though I’m here by my own machinations, a band still tightens around my chest, knowing there really is no turning back once I walk out that door.
With my hand hovering on the doorknob, I close my eyes and pull a memory to the surface of my mind: one of the man I should be going to meet right now instead of his killer. I let myself bask in the warmth of his love, so potent that not even time could fade the feeling of it. I imagine the way he would have looked at me as we said our vows, the way his lips would have felt against mine when we sealed them. Warm and firm. Steady, like he always was. I let myself feel him one last time, and then I tuck Ox safely away in the corner of my heart reserved only for him and open the door. Slipping into the empty hallway, I let the end begin and go to meet my new husband.
Carvedstone steps mark the transition from the opulent mansion we call the Sanctum into the sacred space where all the guests are gathered and waiting. An Aedis, tucked underground in a natural cave system that's been enhanced for our needs over the centuries. This is my first time here at the original one in Fallenford. It’s beautiful, with stone floors smooth and polished, but the walls are rough. Light emanating from permanent fixtures mounted throughout plays with the natural texture of the hewn stone, highlighting all the little dips and crevices along the path to the main chamber.
It’s a bit of a trek, especially once you add in navigating through the Sanctum above before even entering the Aedis, but I see no one else along the way. I know when I’m close, though, because the din of voices ricocheting off stone grows and grows until I reach a turn in the corridor, and the noise becomes a wave of sound that swallows me too.
An acolyte waits in the corner, stopping me with a raised hand before I hit the turn to enter the sanctuary. Like everyone else here tonight, they’re masked, but unlike regular members, acolytes are distinguished by their black robes and white masks shaped into blank, impassive faces. Between thecreepy masks and their vows of silence, I’ve never come face-to-face with one who didn’t unsettle the fuck out of me.
The acolyte disappears around the corner, and a few moments later, a gong rings out, calling everyone to order. The voices stop abruptly, the gong eventually tapering off and allowing faint notes of music to reach my ears. The acolyte returns, sweeping an arm out toward the room, letting me know I may enter now. I give them a curt little nod, allowing myself one last fortifying breath.
Rounding the corner, I’m met with all eyes on me, candlelight shimmering over a sea of masked faces. I don’t recognize most of the people behind their masks, but I didn’t really think I would. Even if Len is the only person I would care to invite to this, it doesn't change the fact that weddings are a big deal within the Society, let alone one between two of the more powerful families. And when you factor in that the groom is the heir to a Pantheon role? The guest list becomes more about the Council bestowing favors upon guests than our wants and desires.
And some of these guests are as elite as they come. Most members wear black masks of our choosing. Animals are a common theme, but sometimes people get creative. Pantheon members have masks that denote their specialized roles. The designs cannot be worn by anyone else, and the masks are handed down from generation to generation. As my eyes sweep across the crowd, I pick out more of those masks in this room than I’ve ever seen in my life. Cumulatively. But there’s really only one I’m looking for.
In the front row, near the aisle, stands a man in an expensive tux wearing a gunmetal half-mask, the skull glinting menacingly in the candlelight. Charon. Alec. This is the closest I’ve ever been in proximity to him, and I have to let him walk out of this room with his heart still in his chest. My fingers flex around a weapon that isn’t there, a reminder that I have to bide my time and make his destructioncount instead of trying to kill him in a room full of witnesses.
As I begin to walk down the aisle, I finally allow myself to focus on the altar at the end. Hera stands in the center, raised above everyone else on a platform, a testament to my groom's rank. For Hera herself to officiate a wedding is a rare honor.
Her emerald peacock mask sets off her deep auburn hair, her commanding presence only strengthened by the authority of the banner hanging behind her. The all-seeing eye of the Society watches over us all from its home at the center of an eight-pointed star. A crescent moon hugs it tightly, both providing light for the eye to see and representing the darkness under which we exist. A reminder that the Society, and therefore the Council, sees all, knows all, is all.
I finally allow my gaze to land on the man standing next to Hera, the one I’ve been trying to ignore since entering the room. Soft gray eyes pierce through me from behind his mask—a wolf. He’s tall and well-built, the athletic lines of his body filling out his tuxedo to sinful perfection.
Reaching the end of the aisle, I turn and face my groom. My eyes coast along his strong jawline and lush mouth before settling back into the weight of his stare. The sight of him is enough to send desire coiling low in my belly, but the possessiveness of his gaze is what’s tying knots inside me. Beyond a shadow of a doubt, his eyes saymine.
My traitorous heart wants to sing backyours.
Hera waits for everyone to take their seats, then speaks in a clear voice, carried by the room’s acoustics. “Today, we are gathered to bear witness to the union of two great houses, as decreed by my authority as Hera. It is my honor to present Ender Sinclair and Merrick Lockwood before you to be bound in matrimony, in aeternum. Will the bride and groom please remove their masks so there will be no doubt of who enters into this union?”
I reach for the ribbon holding my mask on, but a warmhand gently intercepts mine. Those gray eyes soften as he quietly asks, “May I?”
Nodding my consent, Ender closes the distance between us until our bodies are almost touching. He’s so close his scent has invaded the air around me, leaving me no choice but to breathe him in. He smells like smoke and citrus, cozy and bright. Reaching around me, he makes quick work of the ties and carefully takes my mask off. Standing back, his eyes rove my bare face fully for the first time, shamelessly taking his fill.
Clearing my throat, I ask if I can do the same for him. He nods but doesn’t offer to move. I wouldn’t consider myself short, especially in heels, but he still has several inches on me, and without him bending down, the only way I’ll be able to reach the ties at the back of his head is by invading his space further. So I do, balancing on my tiptoes to get a better angle. His hand instinctively brackets my waist, like keeping me safe is the most natural thing in the world to him. The warmth from his palm bleeds through my dress in a way that makes me shiver. I work the tie loose and pull the mask off, letting my heels touch the ground again. Ender’s hand lingers, even after I’ve regained my balance, so I take a step back, then another, until I break his hold. I immediately miss his warmth, a realization I’m not happy about.
We surrender our masks to Hera, who sets them on the table next to her with the other ceremonial items. She addresses the two of us. “Ender and Merrick, do you submit yourselves willingly to this union, one endorsed with the full power of my station as Hera?”
Together, we reply, “I do.”
“Do you understand that while marriage is a condition for our corporeal bodies, ending upon death, the union of your families and legacy is immutable, a pactum in aeternum?”
Again, we say, “I do.”
Hera leads me through my vows, and I follow along,assenting when necessary, repeating the lines as they come. I try not to think too hard about what I’m saying and who I’m saying it to. Instead, I try to focus on getting to the end. But then my vows have been said, and my ring is on Ender's hand, and it’s his turn. Something in the way he says his vows to me makes them impossible to shut out. “With this ring, I take you, Merrick Lockwood, to be my wedded wife in the eyes of the laws of the state and by the traditions of our ancestors. I vow to honor you as my spouse, granting you the respect and fealty deserved of such a position. This I swear to uphold until death alone shall part us.”
