Page 128 of Heart of Thieves

“What?” Alarm cracks my voice. “Is she all right?”

“Her eyes moved under her lids.” Enzo leans over Lola, peering closer. “You know, like how they do during sleep?”

“Lola!” I say, crashing past Laurel’s bed and grasping Lola’s hand. “Lola, can you hear me?!”

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

LOLA

Nic’s voice hits me like an axe to the skull. I lurch upright, cradling my temples as sights and sounds flood me.

I’m in some kind of medical office, complete with shelves of bandages and ointments, scissors and tweezers, stethoscopes and tonics. Nic and Enzo are standing over me wearing identical worried expressions.

I’ve never noticed how alike they look. Enzo’s got his curls and sharper features, and Nic is broader, but their eyes are the same shape. They grind their teeth in a similar manner. They wring their hands in tandem.

Enzo gently presses me back into the pillows. “Don’t move too quickly,” he says. “We don’t know how that magic affected you. Better to be careful.”

The memory of breaking the Unbreakable Lie filters back all at once, and I sink obediently into my pillows, pressing a hand to my pounding head. “Gods, I feel awful.”

“Where do you hurt?” Nic grasps my hand. “What can we do?”

“Everything hurts.” My tongue is dry, my body aching. “But I think I’ll live.” Then I raise my head to look around. “Where’s Laurel? What happened?”

“She’s over there.” Nic nods at a medical bed nearby, where Laurel lies motionless and covered in blood that looks weirdly lustrous in the light. “She was shot.”

“What I want to know is where the depths Nocturne has gone,” Enzo mutters to Nic. “Isn’t she supposed to be here by now?”

“Nocturne—” I swallow, closing my eyes as the gravity of our situation settles like a weight on my chest. I almost expect the Unbreakable Lie’s buzzing to erupt under my skin, and when it doesn’t, dread turns my stomach sour.

I don’t have to lie to him anymore. Which means I need to tell him the truth.

“Nocturne isn’t real, Enz,” I say.

There’s a pause. “What are you talking about?”

I open my eyes, pushing my smudged glasses up my nose. “It was me.”

He shakes his head, first slowly, then faster as though to scatter the thoughts before they take root. “Wait . . . that whole Enclosure game? The barriers? The big party?”

I nod, reaching out to brush his arm, but he jerks away, combing his hands through his curls as our heart wrenches into my throat. “But I thought it was Lenora . . .”

All my compassion for him evaporates as anger slams through me. “Lenora?” I repeat, teeth gritted. “You mean my mother?”

He wrings his hands. “You found out about that?”

“What the depths is wrong with you, Enzo? Why would you keep that from me?”

He presses his fingers into his eyes. “Because I’m an ass. I’m so sorry, Lola. I shouldn’t have . . .”

“Wait, you met her mother?” Nic interrupts. “When? Where?”

“You met her, too. Years ago,” Enzo mumbles, avoiding both our eyes. “Remember the priestess who visited Warthington sometimes? Apparently she . . . also made the moonshard. But, in my defense, I didn’t realize Nell Lightsworn and the Lenora priestess lady were the same person until yesterday. I just knew Nell got pregnant with Lola after she made the shard. Apparently, she went on to use a traveling priestess job as an opportunity for research, which is when she met us, and—”

“How dare you,” I say, voice lethal, “lie to me about that.”

“She was gone long before I met you!”

“But you knew she existed. Knew who she was.” My voice breaks. “Knew she might be out there, alive!”