save their lives.” He hesitated for a long moment. “I think the potential to lie comes with the human blood, but that it’s something else that makes a half-blood actually capable of doing it.”
“Willpower?” I suggested.
“Might be.” He sighed. “Or just plain obstinacy. When we catch a young one lying, we all but beat the desire to do it ever again out of their skulls. It’s a dangerous game to play, and if they got caught by the wrong person, it wouldn’t be just their life on the line, it would be the lives of every half-blood. It’s our greatest secret – we’ve killed our own just to keep it from coming out. Full-blooded bastards would all but shit bricks if they found out we’d been lying to their faces all these long years.” He winced. “Not that I mean you…”
I waved him off. “You’re right. It’s an advantage you have over us, and there isn’t a troll in the city who wouldn’t begrudge that fact.” I cracked my neck from side to side, considering what he’d told me. “Lady Anaïs is dead,” I finally said. “She was killed helping me subdue my father the night I broke Cécile out of Trollus.”
Tips’s eyes widened. “That ain’t possible. I’ve seen her since with my own two eyes!”
“Not her,” I said. “Someone pretending to be her. I wasn’t certain how the impostor was managing it until your little slip, but now I know for certain it’s a half-blood wearing Anaïs’s face.”
Tips’s breath hissed out between his teeth. “Only one who could manage it,” he said. “And that’s your sister.”
“Half-sister,” I muttered, “But yes. Lessa. She’s powerful enough, and she lived in the same household as Anaïs for all of her life until Cécile tricked Damia into giving her to my father. And no one notices the presence or absence of a half-blood servant, no matter how powerful. Add in her ability to lie, and she’s the perfect person to take over Anaïs’s life. So perfect, it almost seems planned.” A sick feeling rose in my stomach the moment the words came out. “He knows.”
“What? Who?”
“My father,” I said, my voice every bit as grim as I felt. “He knows you can lie. Your secret isn’t a secret, at least not from him. I’d bet my life on it.”
Tips blanched. “That can’t be possible. He’d never stand for it if he knew. Your father already hates us – if he’d found out half-bloods could lie, we’d all be dead by now.”
“He doesn’t hate you,” I said absently, staring at the wall behind Tips. “Hate is something he reserves for those with whom he has personal grievances. And he’d never act so impulsively if he thought he could put the information to use.” A plan was beginning to form in my head. It was risky and rash, nothing I would ever have tried in the past, but it might just work.
“I’m afraid to ask,” Tips muttered.
“Think of it this way,” I said. “He knows you can lie to him, but you don’t know that he knows. Not only can he use it against you, he can use you against his enemies by taking advantage of the fact that they don’t know either.”
Tips raised both eyebrows, giving me a dour look. “This is why I hate dealing with the aristocracy – you’re all mad.”
I grinned. “It’s brilliant.”
“Right.”
I leaned forward. “Have you told anyone I caught you out?”
Tips winced. “Not yet. Haven’t found the courage to tell them I slipped up.”
“Excellent.” I would’ve clapped my hands together if they didn’t hurt so much. “I’ve an idea. It’s more than a bit mad, and if it goes poorly, we might both lose our heads. But I think it’ll work.”
“And I must be mad to listen to you, but I’m going to anyway.” Tips leaned on the table, his eyes bright. “Tell me what you’ve got in mind.”
TWENTY-ONE
CÉCILE
My mother wandered past me to look out the window, leaving a cloud of perfume in her wake. “You will stay in tonight, I trust,” she said, letting the drapes fall back into place.
“I will,” I said. “I think a cup of tea and a book are what I need.” I coughed quietly. “My throat has been a bit sore, and I don’t care to overdo it.”
She frowned at me. “I hope you aren’t coming down with something – you’ve seen how much work the Regent’s masque will be.”
“I’m sure it’s nothing.” I glanced at the clock. I’d told Chris to