The Midnight Lie (The Midnight Lie #1)(78)
“I will be so lonely for you.”
I played along, because it felt so good to believe she meant what she said. “And what shall I do to console you upon my return?”
“You know.”
“Do I?”
Her hand slid up my thigh, and in fact I did not leave her bed, not right away, not for some time.
* * *
It felt wrong to put on my rough, stone-colored dress, to feel it scratch against me in a way that felt like home. Ever since I had come to the High quarter, I had worn fluid silk and cotton as soft as air, and at first it had felt like a costume, but now everything I used to wear felt like one, like I was impersonating someone I used to be.
It was frightening, to realize how far away from my old self I had grown.
Exhilarating.
I pulled off the dress, which I now knew to be fully horrible. I knew it in a way that I couldn’t have known when I wore the dress practically every day. I knew the dress to be dead of any comfort or beauty, and promised myself I would never wear it again.
* * *
Morah smiled at the knife. “It’s nice that you remember your friends.”
“How could I forget?” I said. Annin was exclaiming over all her little treasures, spread across the tavern table.
“People do,” Morah said, “when they find a better life.” She touched the silk shoulder of my cyan dress—not with awe, I thought, or jealousy, but meaningfully, to prove a gentle point.
“I’ll be back for good soon.” My chest clenched with sadness, because when I came back for good, it would be when Sid left Ethin.
“No militia stopped you in that dress,” Morah said. “No one accused you of breaking the sumptuary law.”
“I forged a High-Kith passport,” I said after a moment, and was astonished when she simply nodded.
“But it was a secret,” I said, “that I forge documents.”
“Raven wanted you to believe that Annin and I didn’t know, probably so that you would feel special.”
“Why?” I said, feeling stupid.
“So that she could better keep you. Haven’t you ever wondered why she is called Raven? She collects things, just like the bird. She steals them for her nest.”
“That doesn’t make sense. This is my home. I wouldn’t leave—not for good.”
“She has tricked you into believing this is your home.”
“What is so wrong about her wanting to keep me? If you love someone, you don’t want them to go.”
“I love you,” she said, “and I want you to go.”
Tears pricked my eyes. “Why are you so cruel?”
“Because it’s time.” Morah gnawed her lip. “I wouldn’t have said anything earlier, but now … you have the chance to escape. A good, true chance. You have the right passport. You look High Kith. So become one.”
“I can’t leave you and Annin.”
“Yes, you can.”
“I can’t leave Raven.”
“You must.”
“Where is she?” I held the purse of gold, rubbing the leather with my thumb, feeling the ridges of the coins.
Morah shrugged. “She comes and goes. She always has. Probably she is in the Middling quarter.”
I gave her the gold. “This is for her.”
Morah weighed the purse in her hand, then gave it back. “Keep it.”
“She needs it.”
Morah snorted. “She does not. Do not expect me to help you help her take advantage of you.”
It was a complicated sentence to untangle. “I am not helping her take advantage of me.”
“Find her and give her your gold yourself, if you believe that.”
Uneasily, I realized that I didn’t want to find Raven. I was relieved she was not home, and dreaded what she would say if she saw me dressed so High. She would reprimand me. She would make me feel like a traitor.
I looked down at my dress, its hue the vivid color of light through blue glass. I tucked the purse into my fist. I remembered happiness bursting all over my skin as Sid kissed me. I thought of Raven’s painful grip on my chin.
I was a traitor, for being happy when Raven wasn’t … and worse, for being happy at her absence.
* * *
It took Harvers a moment to recognize me. “So it’s true,” he said. “You even look like one of them.” He didn’t say it with resentment or reproach, which I would have understood, but with a kind of gentle wonder.
“I have seen you print books of poetry, botany, music, medicine,” I said. “I have seen your printer’s device on the spines of books in High-Kith libraries. But I have never seen books about the history of Herrath, or this city. Why?”
He blinked, startled. “History book?” He said it as if the term were entirely new to him.
“Yes. A book that explains why things are the way they are.”
“But things have always been like this.”
Frustrated at the blankness of his expression, I said, “That’s not true. Why is there no book about how the wall was built?”
“The wall has always been there.”
“A wall isn’t a mountain. It isn’t the sea. Someone made it.”