“Tonight’s theme ishidden selves.” I lifted a glass of piercingly green liquid from the table, catching Oleander’s gaze and lifting a questioning eyebrow. Her eyes flashed with arch glee. “These drinks have all been spiked with one of two mild poisons.”
A few mouths opened in alarm, but I plunged ahead.
“The first poison forces you to tell the absolute truth. The second poison allows you to tell only lies. You won’t know which is in your glass until after you drink it.” A few curious whispers scampered around the room. Belsyre servants moved through the crowd, offering glasses. I didn’t see any of the courtiers turn them down. “The poisons will last until fourth Nocturne. But once they fade, you will be left with no memory of which poison you drank, only the things you have said and done. So, whether you choose to be careful or careless with your words, they will be all that remain when this Nocturne is through.”
A thrill throbbed through the crowd, an elusive heartbeat of excitement. My own blood rose to meet it, my stomach tightening beneath its layers of silk and boning. I licked my lips, then held my glass to the light to spit emeralds against the floor. My captive legacies’ eyes were heavy with judgment, and I knew that if I did not drink first, I would lose them all.
I put the crystal to my lips and drained my glass in one long slug. As I did, I threw out one arm, releasing the mechanism holding the outer layer of my gown. Kembric fabric cascaded from my bodice in a shimmering waterfall and dusk descended over me—amethyst and sheer blue blurring toward midnight at my hem. Diamonds and pearls gleamed like the moon and stars of myth. I waited until I heard their murmurs of appreciation and the chiming of toasting goblets before I lowered my glass. I wiped my mouth to hide the fact that no liquid had crossed my lips.
Because my drink had no taste, no poison, no substance at all. It had been an illusion, and no one knew it but me. Not even Oleander—who’d helped me plan this deceptive evening—knew I never had any intention of drinking either poison.
I had questions I wanted to ask. But I had no intention of giving any answers.
Ghostly words drifted out of a memory of steam and ice, frost and red flowers, cold hands and molten words.Perhaps you have deceit in your soul. Or perhaps you want to show the world something only you see …
An air of revelry had already gripped the partygoers—they were reaching for more drinks and retreating into the labyrinth of illusion in groups, to watch the dancers or smoke from the giant tabak pipes while they waited for the poisons to kick in. I forced a smile, flicked my long golden train behind me.
And then I went in search of answers.
Nerves sharp as fingernails dug into my heart and twisted when I spotted two Sinister courtiers muttering to each other in the corner. I recognized them, distantly—they were leaders of fashion at court. After the Suicide Twins, of course. I threw back my shoulders and smiled, lifting my chin as I gave a shallow curtsy.
“Billow.” I named the brown-skinned beauty with her hair dyed in a rainbow of colors. I turned my eyes to her friend, a strapping lord I’d met once when Sunder was sparring for the Gauntlet. “Haze. Are you having a good time?”
“Are you?” A decision of some kind crossed Billow’s face, and she flicked vibrant hair over her shoulder. “Can we ask you some questions?”
From the way she’d phrased her question I guessed she’d already discovered the easiest way to prevent someone from guessing whether you were telling the truth or lying—it was not to make any statements at all.
Haze looked surprised by her aggressive move, but nodded in agreement.
“Isn’t that what this Nocturne is for?” I spread my arms, trying to look magnanimous and inwardly cringing. I respected Billow for her impulse to put me on my back foot—but if I was honest, I’d been trying to do the same to her. Quickly, I thought of the Nocturne I spent in Luca’s garret apartment. An idea struck. “But shall we make a little game out of it?”
“I like games!” said Haze, nervously but enthusiastically. So presumably he had drunk the truth poison. Billow saw the realization in my eyes and glared at her friend.
“Sorry,” he said, chastised.
“What do you propose?” Billow asked.
“How about for every question you ask me, I get to ask one in return? But every question must be answered with a statement.”
Billow hesitated, chewing on her lip.
Haze blurted, “Are you planning on executing the courtiers who allied with Severine?”
“No,” I said smoothly.
“Haze!” Billow snarled, tensing. “Do we know whether she’s telling the truth yet?”
“No,” he said, sheepish.
“Then will you please stop talking?”
I hid a smile. If anything, Haze had just endeared himself to me by showing me his greatest fear. Fear, I could use. Fear was a weapon, whether it was my fear or someone else’s. I cleared my throat.
“Are either you or your parents plotting anything that might warrant an execution?”
They both hesitated.
“You want us both to answer?” asked Billow. “Is that fair?”
