Free The Queen of Lies by Michael J. Bode Page B

least suspect. It might even be you.
    Enjoy the game. Trust no one.
    — FOREWORD TO THE SEA OF DECEPTION , ALLEGEDLY WRITTEN BY LADY ALESSANDRIA, “QUEEN OF LIES,” AND PUBLISHED AFTER HER REPORTED DEATH
     
    J ESSA’S HUSBAND-TO-BE WASN’T ugly, but he certainly left much to be desired otherwise. His wavy blond hair sat like a bird’s nest atop his head, somewhat hiding his dark-blue eyes. He was completely shaven on the face, giving his jawline a girlish quality Jessa found distasteful. His build was short and modest. He wore an ill-fitting coat over a wrinkled shirt and a large gold chain with two clunky medallions, along with a pair of leather sandals.
    He waited for Jessa at a table on the wine barge under the canopy section. An Invocari hovered behind him, hands folded. Jessa had started to recognize the Silverbrooks’ Invocari bodyguards—this one had a bit of a gut and ginger hair on his knuckles. A few other couples drank and talked at other tables, but they made a good show of not staring as the hostess brought Jessa to his table.
    She wore a modest white gown that seemed old-fashioned compared to the other women on the barge, who bared their shoulders.
    He stood up sharply and stuck out his hand. “Lord Torin the Fourth.”
    Did he really expect her to shake his hand? Clearly he was unschooled in refinements, but then again manners in Rivern were curious when it came to women. She actually had seen the countess sporting a pair of trousers in public.
    “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” Jessa awkwardly placed her fingers in Torin’s hand as if they might pinch them off. He squeezed them for a moment then released her.
    “Will you sit?” He awkwardly motioned to a chair, suddenly realizing he probably should have pulled it out when he had greeted her. It scooted back a foot or so.
    Jessa giggled as she took a seat. “Impressive trick.”
    “It’s no trick,” Torin said. “I’m a Master of the Seal of Ardiel. And a Master of the Seal of Veritas, which I’m required by Rivern law to inform you of.” He took a deep breath. “I hope you don’t mind that I started us off with a bottle of Lowland red cuvée from 560.”
    Jessa and Torin both took their seats.
    “Oh, not at all. I don’t drink,” Jessa said. Mother does enough of that for the both of us.
    “Oh.” Torin’s brow furrowed under that mass of hair. He was so close to her that Jessa could have reached out and quickly brushed it to the side, but she resisted the urge. “I guess this was a bad choice for a first date then. We can go somewhere else—”
    “It’s fine. I enjoy being on the water and watching the people.” Jessa looked out across the railing of the wine barge’s deck. All around her small boats and gondolas plied the massive fork of the Trident River while people bustled back and forth between tall stone buildings on its banks. The deck hummed from the vibration of some sort of mechanized propulsion that she felt slicing through the current.
    “Oh, right.” He gave a sigh of relief.
    The waitress appeared with a bottle in her hand and set it down along with two glasses. “Lowland red cuvée. A blend from Barstea County. The grapes are grown on the north bank on the site of the old city, which is said to be haunted. The wine is aged in Maenmarth timber for twelve years. It’s a personal favorite of mine. Please enjoy.”
    Torin smirked and waited till she walked away before saying, “She’s lying. It’s probably terrible.”
    “How does that work? Your Veritas Seal?” Jessa asked. She’d never met a mage with a seal, outside of the occasional notary Mother brought in for important affairs of state.
    “Lies sound different,” he explained. “When someone says something that’s not true, their voice reverberates. You hear what they’re saying, but you can also barely make out what they aren’t telling you. It’s not intelligible speech, but it’s louder when what they say differs from what they