The 7th Lie

by Tamara Grantham

  He nodded. “We’ve had these balls for as long as I can remember.”

  “And you’ve never danced?” I questioned.

  He shook his head. “Not after my parents died.”

  Some of the guests whispered to one another as they watched us, no doubt wondering who I was—this girl who dressed in the outdated gown, with the loose hair, the only person the prince deemed worthy to dance with.

  But the glances in our direction didn’t bother me. Morven’s strength held me, helping me dismiss their glares. I’d thought I kept him from falling, but I was wrong. It was the other way around.

  There was so much more to him than I knew. He used his pride as a mask, but I’d seen through it.

  The song ended. He slowly led me off the floor, keeping my hand clasped in a possessive grip. I shuddered to think what would happen when he let go. He walked with a straight back, not stumbling once, until we arrived back at his chair. I expected him to sit as soon as we arrived, but he remained standing.

  His aunt and Cade approached us, her cheeks red. She huffed as she faced her nephew, though he stood a head taller than her. She pointed her finger in his face.

  “What is the meaning of this?” she seethed.

  “It’s a dance, isn’t it?” Morven answered, his voice conversational. “Shouldn’t I dance?”

  “You were under strict orders to remain seated in that chair.”

  “Because you didn’t want me to fall,” he answered. “And I didn’t. I don’t see why you’re upset. Besides, that’s the most fun I’ve had in... well, my entire life.” He glanced at me, our hands still clasped.

  Don’t let go. I wanted to say.

  “You’ve made a spectacle of yourself. Go.” She pointed at the hallway under the alcove where we’d entered. “Go now.”

  He arched a dark eyebrow. “You want me to leave?”

  “I want you both to leave. Miss Harper, you’ve failed me miserably.” Her chin jutted. “You’re both to leave the dance this instant. Do not return.”

  He eyed her shrewdly. “Yes, Aunt Tremayne. But know that in three days, you’ll no longer have the power to control me.”

  She crossed her arms, returning an equally spiteful glance. “We’ll see about that, won’t we?”

  I couldn’t take it any longer. She’d gone too far, and I could no longer stand aside and watch her belittle her nephew. “Are you threatening him?”

  She turned her hate-filled look on me. “This is none of your concern. You are no longer welcomed in this ballroom. If you push me, you’ll no longer be welcomed in this castle. Have I made myself clear?”

  I fisted my free hand, ready to tell her how I really felt. But getting thrown out of the castle now would mean I never found the rest of the objects. It meant I failed my mission, let down myself and my dad, and it meant I doomed the world to suffer through a second flare.

  Biting my tongue, I pushed down my urge to argue with her.

  “I understand,” I conceded.

  Morven and I turned away. He walked with a straight back, focused ahead as we made it across the floor. Every pair of eyes in the room fixated on us. If Queen Regent Tremayne was worried about making a spectacle, she’d done it now.

  We stepped under the shadow of the alcove with Cade following us. When we stopped at the end of the hallway, we faced him. Cade smiled, glancing briefly at mine and Morven’s entwined hands before he cleared his throat. He clutched a chain that glinted silver in the dim light.

  “Is that the key?” I whispered.

  He nodded, opening his fist to reveal a small silver key sitting atop his palm, then handed it to me. “It wasn’t too hard. As soon as she saw you two dancing, she didn’t pay me any attention. Thanks for the distraction, by the way.”

  “It wasn’t a distraction,” Morven said coolly, then turned to me. “Let’s go. We’ve got to unlock the observatory’s door then return the key before she finds out. Meet us here,” he said to Cade.

  We brushed past the gardener. I turned and gave him a brief “thank-you,” which didn’t seem like nearly enough gratitude as we made our way out of the hallway and back into the foyer. We walked past Morven’s chair, but he ignored it.

  “You’re not going to use your chair?”

  He shook his head. “It would take too much time.”

  I gripped his hand tighter. “But what if you fall?”

  “I won’t.”

  I rushed to keep up with him. “You’re awfully confident.”

  He turned, smiling as his gaze lingered on me. “Is there anything wrong with that?”

  My mouth grew dry at the look he gave me, dark and intimate, laced with excitement. I cleared my throat to break up the tension. “We should hurry.”

  “Fine. Try to keep up with me.” Grinning, he led me down the back hallways where we only passed a few people, wobbling only a little. When we reached a staircase, he stopped, holding to the banister as he exhaled.

  I glanced back the way we’d come. “Should I get the chair?”

  “No.” He waved his hand. “I’m just not used to walking this much. I’ll make it.” His chest rose and fell with a deep inhale. He held to the banister but managed to make every step.

  When we finally walked down the hallway leading to the observatory, I eyed him.

  “What’s your trick?” I asked.

  He cocked his head. “Trick?”

  “How can you suddenly walk so well?”

  He shrugged, then removed a flask from his coat pocket where green liquid swirled inside. “This helps.”

  I eyed the metal container. “You’ve been drinking green cerecite?”

  He nodded. “Since I stopped eating the porridge, my strength came back, so I decided to speed up the process. Seems like it’s working, too.”

  He didn’t offer any further explanation as he tucked the container in his pocket. At least the mystery of his miraculous recovery was solved, but we had other problems. What if Morven’s aunt discovered the key was gone? She was already mad that we’d danced. Discovering what we were doing now would send her over the edge.

  But I had a mission to accomplish. I’d searched for two weeks now. If the cerecite wasn’t in the observatory, then I was out of options.

  We stood in front of the door. I handed the key to Morven, and he stuck it in the lock. The mechanism clicked, and the door opened.

  I followed Morven inside the observatory. Moonlight shone through the windows in the dome roof, casting everything in a silvery glow, illuminating the rolled star charts covering the table.

  Excitement raced through me. Finally.

  We stopped at the table. He shuffled through the scrolls until he found his telescope, then he picked up a bag and started stuffing maps inside.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Getting ready to make a huge discovery.” He motioned to me with a scroll. “You’re going to help me.”

  “Me? What are you talking about?”

  “This.” He held the slender metal tube. “Tonight’s the perfect opportunity to escape. The queen regent banned us from the ball. She won’t even be looking for us.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “Outside the palace walls.” He motioned to the door. “There’s a mountaintop just north of here that will give us the perfect view. The shield will be easier to see through up there.”

  I glanced at the dark window. “We’re escaping the palace?”

  “Yes.”

  “But I can’t leave.”

  “We’ll only be gone a few hours.” He hefted the bag. “We’ll be back before anyone knows we left.”

  I eyed the bag of star charts as he slung a strap over his shoulder. “You’re taking them all with you?”

  “Yes. I have to. Is something wrong with that?”

  “Nothing.” I sighed, following him through the dark room until we made it back to the hallway. “How do you expect to travel up to the mountains? You can’t very well hike. And I’m not pushin
g you in your chair.”

  “We won’t have to. We’ll take the velocipedes. They’re parked in the palace stalls. No one uses them at this time of night, so we’ll be fine.”

  I had to stop myself before asking him to explain what a velocipede was, so I asked a different question instead. “What if the guards catch us?”

  “They won’t. They’re all too preoccupied keeping watch at the ball.” He stopped walking to face me. “Have you asked enough questions now?”

  Butterflies fluttered wildly at his nearness. As I stood looking up at him, he dipped his head down slightly, drawing his lips near. The sudden urge to kiss him made my heart beat faster, if that were possible. What would it feel like? Would it be a guarded kiss? Or something more passionate.

  I shook my head. What was I thinking? I couldn’t kiss him. I had a mission. Plus, Fifteen would kill me.

  “One more question,” I asked softly as I held up the key. “What about this? Also, I refuse to go anywhere in this gown.”

  He slipped his hand around my back, drawing me closer, and my stomach did a complete one-hundred-and-eighty-degree somersault. “We’ll pass the key back to Cade and then you can change.” His voice was entirely too deep and seductive. Did he realize the effect he had on me? “Sound good?”

  “I... umm...” How was a person supposed to have a single coherent thought at a moment like this? He kept his hand pressed to my back, and every thought in my head disappeared—every thought except one.

  I had to physically force myself to grab his hand and push away from him. Nothing about getting close to him was a good idea. It wasn’t even a semi-okay one.

  “I think we should return the key,” I said with forced calm. “Then we’ll leave.” I took a step backward. “Also, we should probably keep our distance. I am your caretaker, after all.”

  Hurt shone in his eyes for half-a-second, then the look disappeared, and I realized I’d hurt him. I must’ve been the only person in his entire life he’d gotten close to since the death of his parents, and I just rejected him.

  “I agree,” he answered with equal dispassion, and he turned away. I followed behind him as he walked ahead, the light casting an eerie glow over his dark-clad frame. For the hundredth time since I’d arrived on this island, I wondered what I’d gotten myself into.

  Chapter 17

  Humid nighttime air washed over me as I stood with Morven inside the palace stalls. We’d returned the key to Cade and hadn’t heard anything since. I hoped he’d slipped it back to the queen regent without incident. We hadn’t been caught. Yet.

  Morven pulled two vehicles from their spots by the wall and stood them beside us. The aluminum frames held a single seat. Twenty wheels made of yellow cerecite lined in a row beneath the body. The machines reminded me of giant rollerblades—or perhaps caterpillars. Blue lanterns glowed from headlight-shaped lamps at the front of the engines. I tried not to gawk, reminding myself that I was supposed to be familiar with machines—velocipedes—like these.

  Morven sat on the seat and buckled his legs to the sides. Interesting. He must’ve had this one custom made. How often had he gone out on it?

  He pressed a button and a quiet engine purred to life. I sat on the vehicle next to his, scanning the rows of buttons. How many were there? I settled on a red one in the center and pressed it, but nothing happened.

  “The blue one,” Morven said, frowning. “Haven’t you ridden a velocipede?”

  “Of course, I have.” I cleared my throat. “Just not one like this.” I pushed the blue button and the engine rumbled to life, making my seat vibrate. I adjusted my bag’s straps on my shoulders.

  Morven wore the sack of maps on his back. The tops of the scrolls peeked at me, tempting me to check each one. But I couldn’t do that yet. Not without causing suspicion.

  “How far are the mountains?” I asked over the noise.

  “Not far,” he shouted back. “We’ll make it there in less than an hour if all goes smoothly. Follow close behind me. Once we get out of the city, the roads get rougher.”

  He pushed the handlebars forward, revving the engine, then kicked the stand up and rode out of the stall. I did the same, though the velocipede lurched as I shoved the handles forward with too much force. Luckily, Morven didn’t look back, and I followed closely behind him as we rode out of the palace, through the back courtyard, and toward the wall surrounding the castle.

  Behind the palace, a delicate stillness draped the night, with a little light from streetlamps to illuminate our way. As we passed through the gate, Morven waved to the guards, who only nodded.

  He must’ve done this before, which solved the mystery of where he went at night.

  We rode into the city, and I stayed close behind Morven. We followed the curving road. Estate homes made of white limestones overshadowed us. Trailing vines cascaded from windows lit with soft blue light, and water trickled from fountains shaped as lotus flowers—such a contrast to my bunker in the frozen wastes of Champ Island.

  We crested a bridge spanning over a churning river. A view of the mountains appeared—a dark block of jagged peaks against a star-filled sky. As we rode away from the city, the wind picked up. I’d changed into my standard shirt and pants, but the chilly wind cut through me.

  Round, turquoise stones stood out against the black velvet night, highlighting the flat plains that stretched to the horizon. What were the boulders? Who created them? And not just those here, but the ones in my reality, as well.

  Better yet, who created this island? Where did cerecite come from? I hadn’t been given a good answer. Except aliens. At this point, I wouldn’t exclude anything.

  Maybe Morven’s astronomy experiments would help solve the mystery. He’d been vague about what he’d been doing, but since I’d agreed to follow him all the way out here, maybe he’d be more forthcoming. Plus, I couldn’t deny that being in his good graces was necessary to keeping the palace accessible. I also could no longer deny the powerful attraction between us. I’d never felt so strongly toward anyone before. The thought frightened and excited me at the same time.

  The landscape turned to rolling hills. More boulders appeared, some taller than Morven. Their strange blue-green glows seemed to burn like fire, their light flickering over the too-even grass. We approached the mountains. A steep path wound up through the rocky cliffs. Our velocipedes’ wheels crunched over the gravel road, engines growing louder as they strained to make it to the top.

  When we crested the hill, we rode onto a flat plateau. The moonlight, coupled with the many boulders speckling the mountaintop, gave us enough light to see.

  We stopped our velocipedes and turned off the engines. My ears buzzed at the sudden quietness, with only the swaying of the grass in the wind to break up the silence, strange without the chirping of insects. The air tasted crisp, though the metallic taste lingered.

  Above us, stars crowded the sky, leaving hardly any black space between them. Some glittered in distinct shades of pink, green, and periwinkle blue—more contrast than I’d ever seen before, even on the farm without the glare of city lights.

  “This is amazing,” I said with awe.

  “Yes,” Morven answered. “That’s why we came up here. This is the best view on the island.” Kneeling, he took off his bag, then dumped out the scrolls and removed his telescope.

  I knelt beside him and helped unroll the parchments. Words, bright lines, and dots lit up on the paper. I trained my eye for any inconsistencies.

  “We need to arrange the charts in order,” Morven said. “See the dates on the top? Start from those that begin three years ago, then arrange them up to the current date.”

  I gave him a sidelong glance. “What for?”

  “Because that’s how to see the stars moving. More importantly, how we’re moving.”

  I stopped shuffling through the charts. “What do you mean by that?”

  He gave me a pointed stare. “That’s why we’ve come out here. That’s why I’ve been doing
this research.” He shook his head. “I can’t be sure of anything yet.”

  He shuffled through the scrolls until he pulled one out. “This is my most recent. As soon as I get it filled in, I’ll know for sure.”

  “Know what for sure?”

  Starlight twinkled in his dark eyes. “You’ll see.”

  After picking up his telescope, he stood, doing it without any hesitation. He aimed the lens at a star cluster just above the horizon. I continued arranging the scrolls, from least to greatest, as if I were counting down the days to some unforeseen time—from three years past to the present.

  I memorized the dates as I went...

  The day of our Lourde, Seventeenth of May

  Eighteenth of June

  Eleventh of August...

  Morven’s words bugged me. That’s how to tell how we’re moving.

  Shaking my head, I turned back to the charts, sorting them by date while looking for inconsistencies. Dots and lines connected. Labels on the more prominent stars were easy to memorize.

  Big Dipper. Cassiopeia. The North Star. Betelgeuse. Planets were also labeled. Mars. Jupiter. Mercury. Venus.

  I arranged one after another. A pattern emerged in the movement of the stars as they tracked across the night sky.

  Morven walked past me, shifting his telescope, jotting things on his scroll. A breeze carried across the mountaintop, fluttering the glowing scrolls. I arranged the rest until they sat in a neat row atop the grass.

  Thirty-seven scrolls in total. Two-hundred and seventy labeled stars. Seventeen labeled planets, including those in the Kuiper Belt. Each written in Morven’s neat, precise script. The pattern of the stars’ movements captured like a snapshot.

  Morven clicked his telescope shut, then crossed back to me and placed the last star chart at the end of the row. The last piece of the puzzle.

  “What are we looking at?” I asked.

  He gave me a guarded, knowing smile. “I’ve found something no one else knows.”

  I couldn’t hold back a grin. “Aliens exist?”

  “Ha, funny Sabine.” He scratched his chin. “The problem is, I’m not sure I should tell you.”