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Back The Midnight Lie
Chapters (60)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright Notice
  3. Dedication
  4. 1
  5. 2
  6. 3
  7. 4
  8. 5
  9. 6
  10. 7
  11. 8
  12. 9
  13. 10
  14. 11
  15. 12
  16. 13
  17. 14
  18. 15
  19. 16
  20. 17
  21. 18
  22. 19
  23. 20
  24. 21
  25. 22
  26. 23
  27. 24
  28. 25
  29. 26
  30. 27
  31. 28
  32. 29
  33. 30
  34. 31
  35. 32
  36. 33
  37. 34
  38. 35
  39. 36
  40. 37
  41. 38
  42. 39
  43. 40
  44. 41
  45. 42
  46. 43
  47. 44
  48. 45
  49. 46
  50. 47
  51. 48
  52. 49
  53. 50
  54. 51
  55. 52
  56. EPILOGUE
  57. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  58. Also by Marie Rutkoski
  59. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  60. Newsletter Sign-up

I poured myself a cup and took a sip. It did nothing to me, probably because I already had any magic it could lend me, because I was simply giving myself back to myself. No wonder I’d had more trouble manipulating the memories of the readers in the library. They had drunk the tea, so what power I used on them had to work against the power they had already stolen and ingested in a diluted form. I set the cup aside. Then, after a thought, I slipped the packet of poison from my pocket and emptied it into the pot.

The librarian came back, bearing a red-bound book the size of a small child. He set it before me. Its front was embossed with a symbol I had seen on a card in the game of Pantheon. It was a grasping hand, the sign of the god of thieves.

“Will there be anything else you need, my lord?” asked the librarian.

“Yes.” I cleared my throat, eager to begin reading, suffused with a feeling I was not at first able to name, because I had never felt it before.

Superiority.

I had never felt able to make people do what I wanted. Now it was so easy. If I wished it, it was so. If someone resisted, I needed only to twist their memory to make them obey.

“Clear the room,” I told him. “And then leave. Bar the library doors. I wish to read alone, in peace.”

“Of course, my lord,” he said, and executed my order.

In the stillness that remained, I opened the book.

The gods once walked among mortals, read the first line. As I touched the page, a vapor rose from the printed ink. Specterlike, it drifted up to me. I inhaled, my gasp of surprise dragging the vapor inside me before I thought to resist it, and I fell into the story it told.

51

THE GODS ONCE WALKED AMONG mortals, charmed by their childlike ways, their lives as ephemeral as dew on grass. Most enchanting, however, was a mortal’s ability to surprise. A god might bless a mortal, yet never know how the seed of such a gift might grow. Sometimes a frail human might glow with song, a pure melody shuddering from the throat, expressing a longing the god of music had never known, with an intensity that made the god, despite her eternal years, listen with wonder. And a mortal might suffer beneath a gift, extra eyes popping out all over the skin like weeping boils, such that the god of foresight could not help but laugh as she had not done since the birth of the god of delight.