“A trade for a trade.” Her eyes darken, and her pendant glows again. She’s asking for a secret in exchange for one of her own—readers use secrets as currency; they cannot share a secret without receiving one. Lucky for me, Victor’s little follower gave me everything I needed earlier. Sierra would want to know that her best friend is a liar.
“A trade for a trade,” I agree.
“Your Mortemagi friend has no magic,” I say.
She considers my answer.
“Olivia?” Sierra struggles to quell a laugh. When I don’t react, she reaches for my hand. Her amusement dies, her eyes prying into mine, searching for a sliver of a lie. Of course, she finds nothing. I would never trade a lie to a reader. I almost feel guilty making her doubt her own magic, wondering if she glazed over her best friend’s secrets. And I hate that I feel nothing selling out a nonmagi.
“Well then, I am surrounded by liars.” She clears her throat. “Fable Rowan is seeing Lorne, behind Olivia’s back.”
I frown. Sierra and Olivia’s friend, Fable, is seeing Olivia’s boyfriend. How does that serve me? The secret is as empty as Fable’s brain.
“Stop looking at me like I tricked you. Fable can erase Silver’s venomfrom Victor’s blood,” Sierra clarifies. “Before the execution order is set, they’ll retest Victor’s blood…” She pauses at the confusion on my face, then explains further, “It’s procedure: they always retest twice to reduce the likelihood of a false outcome.”
“Will this work?” I ask, my jaw tense.
“I’m not known to fail.” She gives me a hopeful smile. “Meet me in the infirmary courtyard at midnight. And be nice when you ask Fable for blood-cleansing dust.”
Now I understand why she told me it would cost me. I hate Fable Rowan.
My heart beats to the tick of my watch—Dad’s watch. The reflection of the half-moon stings me with memories of the night Dad died. It took me three weeks to bring myself to clean off the blood that splattered on the face of his watch. As I stand in the infirmary courtyard, I pray to Haal that I will not have to bury another member of my family.
Lyria and Beau insisted on following me to the meeting because they do not trust Fable. Rightfully so, since she’s been holding a vendetta against our family ever since her mother was killed on a mission Dad assigned.
A bob of yellow hair scurries out of the southern hallway, tugging her tan coat to her neck. The three of us look up to see Fable speeding toward us. She moves like a fugitive, even though curfew doesn’t apply to school grounds. Behind her, Sierra walks with purpose, a notebook in her hand.
“Fable.” I give her a curt nod in greeting, but she ignores me.
“I thought you needed to go to the infirmary,” she snaps at Sierra, her sharp nose lifting in disdain. “Why did you lure me to this pit of vipers?”
Pit of vipers. I stifle a laugh, even though I’m sure Fable meant it as an insult. It’s no surprise coming from a dustmaker Arkani. They walk around thinking that all magic would cease without them and their little ground-up plants. To be fair, there is merit to their arrogance. Our worldwouldcease to function without Arkani; they are the backbone of our technology. Their inventions allow us to further research, find cures for illnesses. It’s a pity Fable is the worst of them, selfish to the core—she only looks out for herself. I don’t say any of that, because right now, her magic is Beau’s lifeline.
“I need blood-cleansing dust,” I say. “Name your price.”
Blood-cleansing dust is a family recipe belonging to the Rowans, as are the majority of the complex dust recipes. Rumor has it Fable’s familyhas spilled a lot of blood over the years to grow their collection. Judging by her predatory smile, I believe the rumors.
“Why should I help you?” she scoffs. “Your father killed my mother.”
“Dying on assignment is a risk of the job.” I measure my tone, not wanting to jeopardize my only chance to save my brother. “Your mother knew this just as we all do.”
“I’m leaving.” Fable whirls, walking toward the infirmary.
“I’m sure Olivia would love to know that you’re excellent company to her boyfriend,” I call out.
Fable freezes.
I don’t even know Olivia. Before this afternoon, I didn’t even know her name. But she is the ticket to Beau’s freedom.
At my side, Lyria shifts her weight with discomfort. She disapproves, I’m sure, but our brother’s life hinges on how well I play my cards. I can see Fable’s brain whirring through my threat, weighing the consequences, and finally, she sighs. “Olivia can never know.”
I’ve won.
“I’ll make your stupid dust if all of you take a vow of silence.” She crosses her arms. “It would ruin what I have with Lorne.”
Pathetic. She doesn’t care about her friend at all. “We’ll take the vow when you hand us the dust,” I reply.
Fable straightens her narrow shoulders, bobbing her head like a porcelain doll. “You’ll have to get me the substitute ingredients. Two, you’ll find in Gorhail Woods, and the third, you’ll find where River Grand meets Albion Creek. Bring them before dawn. My classes begin at eight.”