“Delicious as that whimper was, I do need actual sentences, Seamstress.”
“That was nay awhimper.” Before I could pull back, he’d drawn me back between his teeth.
His laugh filled the Unmantle, ricocheting off the walls like thunder. “A lie,” he announced, voice slick with amusement.
I was grateful for the lattice, certain my face was an open book. Perhaps a little too aggressively, I shoved my thumb further into his mouth, towards the back of his throat. At his sputter, I smiled.
“I am a seamstress,” I managed, eyes scanning the filigree. I traced its pattern as a slow, deep pull throbbed from my thumb. My attention shattered completely at the sound of his throat contracting, swallowing down the blood he’d taken.
“We grew tomatoes in our courtyard,” I managed. The same suckling sensation flared anew, only this time,deeper.
“I had a goat called Henrei who spoke in riddles,” I rushed out. With one final suck, he released me. I heaved in a breath, the air riddled with hearthfire, metal, and jasmine.
“The last is a lie, as is the first. You are no seamstress, but an assassin. Tell me, could you have shoved your thumb anyfarther down my throat?” His hand clasped around my wrist like a manacle, holding it aloft beyond the filigreed wall.
“Your blessing is corrupted, Druid. Perhaps you’ve fallen out of favour.” I pulled at my arm, attempting to reclaim it, but his grip was unfaltering.
“The lie was too obvious,” he tutted. “I would be able to scent it from the other side of the templum. Make it not so easy this time. Be ambiguous, less black and white, moregrey—something you should excel at.”
The metal took the brunt of my withering glare.
“The hardest lies to discover have nuance,” he continued, unaware of my scowl, or simply unbothered. “Truths woven within them, patching the stain underneath. Tell me something complicated, wrought withemotion. Perhaps one about the laurel you’re friends with…with the unruly, brown hair. Demmerick, is it?”
I stiffened, my waves of panic detectable even to my unblessed senses. “How do you know Demetri and I are friends? Your blessing?”
“Demetri.” He muttered his name like a promise. A roil of unease surged through me, and I inwardly cursed myself for offering a piece of him so freely. The Butcher would have discovered it either way, what with the records and the eyes and ears of the acolytes—but still, it lingered on my tongue like betrayal.
“Friends, you say? Do friends often reek of desire when in each other’s presence? It was laced so thick upon him I almost gagged.”
I renewed the efforts to reclaim my arm, throwing my weight into it, heels braced against the divider. Still, it would not budge.
“Concern yourself not. Now let me go.”
“But it is my concern. If the two of you were allied in some scheme to destroy the Blood Tree, I must know. Iwillknow.Convenient, is it not, that you both contrived to be among the last in line, despite my order instructing you otherwise?”
“We planned nothing!” My wrist momentarily loosened from his hold, slick with sweat from my efforts. I twisted, wriggling like an eel, hoping to slip from his grasp, but his fingers tightened.
“I scent your honesty.” His voice faltered, the markers of doubt evident in his tone, despite what his blessing informed him.
He released me,, and my back crashed into the Unmantle’s wall, bones rattling alongside the metal with the force of it. I rubbed the back of my aching skull, staring daggers at the latticed holes to my front.
“I have already told you I do not know why, nor how, the Blood Tree was destroyed. Is it not enough you can scent my truth?”
An exasperated sigh echoed from his side of the box.
“Two truths, one lie—make them to do with Dennick. Ensure the lie is as close to a truth as you can. Give me your thumb.”
I didn’t bother to correct him this time but extended my hand, scrambling for ideas about what Icouldtell him. He took it, more forcibly than before, and lifted my thumb again to his lips.
Before he could take me into his mouth, I spoke. “If I acquiesce, will you answer some of my questions, too?”
As soon as his tongue pressed against me, said questions evaporated like mist. I capitalised on his deliberate silence by listing them again in my mind, careful to rehearse the most pressing ones should he permit me to voice them.
“I’ll allow you three. After I have a true taste of your lies, I will ask the same number. Just, no?”
I nodded, then remembered he could not see me. “Just,” I agreed, surprised by his compliance.
“At your leisure, Seamstress.” He popped my digit back into his waiting mouth, the heat of him scorching. I steadied my breath and searched for the lie.Complicated.Emotional.
