The Midnight Lie (The Midnight Lie #1)(81)

“Because you are so special?” he sneered. “You are a fool. You think she loves you. All she wants is to get you between her legs. She will use you and cast you aside.”

His words were corrosive because they were exactly what I feared. I saw, from the acute gladness in Aden’s face, that he knew his words burned through me.

He pressed his advantage. “Can’t you see that I have only ever wanted what is best for you?” His voice dropped low. “You might think you love her, but that’s only because you don’t know what love is.”

I was afraid to think about whether I loved Sid. Aden was right about one thing: if I loved her, I would suffer for it.

I did what Sid always did. I dodged the real question by addressing the easiest part of what he had said. “Of course I know what love is.”

“Do you really? You love Raven.”

“What does she have to do with this?”

“You think she loves you.”

“She does.” I believed he was just trying to seek revenge, to stab me where it would hurt most, but my heart grew tight and shaky in my chest. “She says so all the time.”

“She says so. You are like a child, Nirrim. You can’t see the truth for what it is.”

“Yes, I can,” I said, though inside I retreated to the insecurity I had felt for so long, before I realized that the visions I had were true glimpses of the past. “I know what’s real and what’s not.”

“You are deluded. You have been so sweet, so biddable, so stupid.”

“Tell me what you mean.”

“You’ve been forging those passports for years.”

“So?”

“Nirrim, the little do-gooder, helping the less fortunate.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing, I suppose, if Raven weren’t milking her buyers for everything they’re worth.”

“Buyers?”

“You see,” he said, satisfied. “You have no idea whom to trust. You thought she was giving them away.”

“But,” I said, “she is.”

“She takes their life’s savings. She makes them give all they have for a means to escape.”

“But,” I stammered, “but that can’t be true. Look at how we live.”

“You think she’d share with you? Look at how she lives.”

“She lives simply. Her clothes. What she eats. She has a few little luxuries, it’s true, like a mirror, a gold necklace, but—”

“That’s what she lets you see. She squirrels all her money away into her house in the Middling quarter.”

My stomach turned to stone. “She has a house in the Middling quarter?”

His smile was narrow and mean. “Go see for yourself. You think she loves you? Go see what her love looks like.”

“That’s too big a secret,” I protested. “A whole house? So much money?”

“Everyone’s heard the rumor.”

“People would tell me.”

“I didn’t.”

“Why? Why would everyone keep such a secret from me?”

“People had different reasons. Some feared Raven’s reprisal if they told. She could denounce them for crimes, or refuse to sell them a passport. Others worried you would stop forging if you knew. As for me, stupid me, I didn’t want to hurt you.”

Devastation must have been written on my face. My eyes stung. My breath failed me, and I couldn’t speak for a moment, so certain was I that anything I could say would sound broken, a pathetic denial of what I fully, terribly believed.





46


THE HOUSE WAS AS ELEGANT as a Middling house could be. It didn’t break any rules. The trim under the eaves was as delicate as lace yet restrained in color, painted in a silvery green like the underside of an olive leaf. Bay windows bulged out like pretty blisters, yet with no stained glass. The hardware on the green door was iron, not brass, and the flower boxes held simple sea violets in shades of cream and powdery blue and lavender. The window frames were a freshly painted black, and although no detail broke a law, it was nonetheless a more beautiful house than any on the street: daring in its aggressive newness, in its sparkling windows and slick paint and flowers carefully plucked of any imperfect petals. It was a house that proclaimed itself as loudly as was allowed. Before I had left the Ward, I couldn’t have dreamed that such a house existed. Even if I had seen drawings in one of Harvers’s books, I would have thought it was a fantasy.

The door had no knocker, but a little iron button studded into its center. I had never seen its like before, but I pressed it and heard a musical, muted chime echo behind the door. My heart welled with a sick, poisonous hope. Aden had lied to hurt me. Or if he had told the truth, it could be explained.

I was Raven’s girl. Her lamb.

This house must belong to someone else, a stranger, who would ask why I was there.

My mistake, I would say.

The door opened. A relieved breath fluttered from my lips.

“Oh.” The woman’s eyes widened. Nervous fingers straightened her pale blue dress and tucked black tendrils of hair behind her ears. “Forgive my appearance, my lady. I didn’t expect—”

“Never mind.” I smiled, practically giddy to have my worst fears proven wrong. “I must have the wrong address,” I said, although Middlings on the street readily recognized Raven’s name, and all of them had pointed me to this house. Since the woman at the door clearly thought I was High Kith, I tried to think of what someone of my supposed rank would say. “Forgive me for having disturbed the peace of your home.”