BooksBarbecue
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

Or, Sid said, you could always find out for yourself what is real.

I looked around me. The air was heavy with heat. There was no one. Nothing moved except the marching silver ants.

I slid the gardening knife from my pocket and opened it. I approached the nearest wall and its smooth expanse of white limewash.

I scraped at the paint with the knife. White flakes peeled away, sticking to my knife, my sweaty skin. Silver ants came to see what I was doing. They walked up my knife and over my wrist, biting me as I swatted them off.

I’m not sure how long I carved away at the years of paint until finally, just when I thought I had gone crazy again, like when I was little, when I was seduced into believing impossible things no one else saw, my knife stripped away one last layer. Beneath the white lay a bloody red paint.

I can only imagine how I must have looked when I walked into the tavern. Garden dirt smeared on my face. Sleepless hollows beneath my eyes. Sweaty clothes, sweaty hair. Ant bites in a lurid string of red bumps up my arm, even some on my neck and face. Dirt and white paint under my nails. A startled expression on my face that probably grew even more bewildered when I saw who was waiting at a table inside the tavern.

Sid looked up from her plate of sun melon slices. She saw me and laughed. Her skin was clean and pure, her thin, pomegranate-colored silk dress falling in elegant folds.

Annin, who had frozen in the act of pouring Sid iced lemon water, stared at me. “Nirrim! You look awful!”

“You really do,” Sid said. “What have you been doing? Rolling around in a rosebush? What are all those red marks? Tell me.”

A blush burned in my cheeks. “No, I don’t think I will.”

“Oh, come on.”

“You said I look awful.”

“No, she did.” Sid unfurled a lazy hand in the direction of Annin, who was glancing between us. “I merely agreed. Did you … tussle with squirrels? Dirty squirrels? Vengeful ones?”

“Shut up.”

Annin gasped. “Nirrim! She is High.”

“What are you doing here?” I demanded.

Sid’s laughter melted into a slow smile. “I got tired of waiting for you.”

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