Page 4 of A Taste For Lies (The Apex Kingdom #1)

Chapter 4

ALORA

T he beauty of Heshan, for someone like me, is that all the Elite houses are nestled high in the mountain, perfectly situated for their privileged inhabitants to admire the sweeping views. This means arriving on foot as an Elite is not just typical, it’s expected. They spend their evenings at whichever mansion is hosting that night’s revelry and their days sleeping it off.

What would be unusual is showing up alone. The Elite are obsessed with personal safety. Most nobles have a personal Apex, trained from the moment they emerged in puberty to be that Elite’s guardian. The two are usually of a similar age and typically the same gender, the better for the Apex to stay close to their charge.

Count Zhao’s ostentatious mansion looms before me, its wrought-iron gate guarded by a figure I recognize from my lengthy reconnaissance. The uniform catches my eye: the Apex guardian for the count’s younger son.

My pulse quickens the moment my brain processes the implications. The male’s charge is too young to attend the ball, so they must have thought to put his guardian to better use at the entrance. All my plans for sweet-talking a human go right out the window .

I have no way of knowing what this male’s gift is or whether his Apex sense is auditory, olfactory, or sight. His inner creature could be a venomous viper or an eagle-eyed hawk.

I hate unknowns. Especially when it comes to Apex.

But the male is already looking past me with narrowed eyes, clearly wondering where my own guardian is. An automatic smile forms on my lips as I rack my brain for how to manipulate the situation to my advantage.

The Apex doesn’t return my smile. “My Lady.”

And just like that, his accent in the common tongue jolts a memory from my reconnaissance. I can speak this Apex’s hometown dialect. My shoulders dip with relief. Now I know exactly what to do.

“Excuse me”—I address the guardian in the unique vernacular of the Yuelains, my accent pitch perfect—“could you direct me to the main entrance?”

He blinks, looking taken aback by my unexpected use of the humble language, especially dressed as I am in Elite style. My elaborate dress is covered, but my cloak is thick and rich, my hair is artfully arranged, and, thanks to Eleni, my makeup is flawless.

The cognitive dissonance plays out over his face—I look like an Elite, but I sound like him.

“You’re from Yuelai?”

I pretend to be caught out, forming my mouth into a round “O” before clapping a hand over it. “I cannot believe I just did that,” I say in the common tongue, with precise Elite elocution. “Please, please don’t tell anyone.”

“How do you speak…?”

It takes barely a moment for fake tears to fill my eyes. Crying on demand is a surprisingly useful talent in my line of work.

As expected, the guardian’s gaze darts to and fro, looking anywhere but at the Elite woman breaking down on his lord’s doorstep. “Oh please don’t cry, My Lady. It’s not my place to ask.”

“My Apex”—I sniff loudly—“she taught me. And now she’s gone. At events like this, I suppose I just want to feel closer to her. She should be here. ”

He draws a sharp intake of breath. Another Apex from his hometown, lost while protecting the Elite. “Can I… Could I perhaps ask…her name?”

I shake my head vehemently. “I can’t, I can’t. It’s just too fresh.”

He rubs the back of his neck, no doubt filling his own narrative into the empty space I’ve conveniently left.

Peering up at him from under kohl-darkened lashes, I murmur, “Would you keep this little indiscretion between us? My parents are already furious with me for my continued attachment to her. They keep pushing me to find another guardian, but I just…”

His gaze softens. “Of course, it will be our secret. Lady—?”

“Lightfire.” I manage a tremulous smile. “Just come to town.”

“May I accompany you to the door? It wouldn’t do for you to arrive without an Apex.”

“Oh! That would be lovely, but—don’t you need to be here for the other guests?”

He glances over my shoulder. “You’re likely the last to arrive. And it will only take a moment.”

I sigh in genuine relief, patting my eyes dry and ensuring my makeup is still intact. “Thank you. I don’t even know your name.”

He puffs his chest up a bit at an Elite lady paying him attention and gestures up the path. “It’s Jei, My Lady.”

As we stroll up to the mansion, my entrance assured, my mind is already whirring towards the next step in the plan.

Jei guides me inside and departs with a deep bow, leaving me in the foyer. Resigned, I pass my fine cloak to the waiting servant. I would really prefer to hang onto it—odds are, this is the last I’ll see of it.

The opulent ballroom envelops me in a haze of extravagance. As usual, the air is laced with the strong perfume of Shanterran white lilies. I wrinkle my nose. Quite strong tonight.

Crystal chandeliers cast a dazzling array of light upon the polished marble floor. The chatter of guests echoes against it, creating a symphony of whispers, a melodic backdrop to the event. My ears catch fragments of conversations—the intrigue, the scandals, the delicate alliances that define Elite society.

Through the throng, my eyes snare on the young Lady Zhao, and something settles in my stomach. Because around her neck, just as I’d known they would be, gleam the Pearls of Azure.

The luminescent orbs glow with a blue-green-tinged simmer, casting a radiant aura upon the young Lady Zhao’s face, making her appear otherworldly, mysterious. Having seen the lady myself in the unflattering dawning light of day—stumbling her way home from the past night’s revelry—I can say with great certainty, this is not her natural state.

It appears I’ve arrived at the perfect time. The other guests have already noted the pearls and moved on, though surreptitious glances linger.

The stage is set.

My gaze drifts to the brute guardian from earlier, the one who unwittingly gifted me this opportunity. He’s now standing sentinel behind his charge’s daughter. His stoic demeanor betrays nothing, but to me, it’s clear—he guards a treasure he both cannot stand to be without and resents to his core.

I subtly shadow Lady Zhao’s steps as I wait for my moment, pretending to sip from a glass of sparkling wine I swiped from the refreshment table. I don’t drink while I’m working as a rule, but it helps me blend in.

Rule Number Eight: Stay silent and observe.

A different kind of reconnaissance… My lips kick up involuntarily. I suppose it can be glamorous sometimes.

Something distracts me—a prickle of awareness, the unmistakable weight of eyes on the back of my neck. But a furtive glance behind me doesn’t reveal anyone watching.

What does catch my eye is an enormous man in a tailored black suit, towering over the other revelers. He’s bigger than the count’s brute, only nearly matched in height by the more slender Apex in a guardian uniform at his side. The Elite’s back is to me, but the guardian’s tawny eyes are fixed on Lady Zhao and—I frown—the pearls around her neck .

Are they thieves posing as an Elite and his Apex in an attempt to steal my commission?

Before I can ponder further, a young Elite man about Lady Zhao’s age approaches her, his own guardian in tow. I’m close enough to listen in on their conversation as they exchange bows and pleasantries. I recognize the lord from other nights spent among the Elite—a second son from a less prosperous family. Exactly the kind of suitor Count Zhao thought to attract for his daughter with this display.

“My Lady, I find myself compelled tonight to ask you a question…”

Rule Number Two: The first thing is first. When faced with multiple challenges, concentrate on solving the most immediate one first.

I can’t afford to be distracted right now, or these interlopers really will take my prize. As the Elite bumbles through his proposal, the lady’s dark eyes shining, I keep my gaze trained on her father’s guardian. He’s close enough to hear every word. A red flush begins to creep up his neck, his jaw clenching harder with each word exchanged.

I set down my drink and thread through the crowd on silent feet to stand directly behind them, all the while monitoring the proposal. My fingers find my lynx charm as my heart beats a little faster, anticipation fizzing through my veins.

The young Elite barely finishes his speech before the lady squeaks, “Yes!” The absolute picture of Shanterran Elite propriety, she clasps his hand demurely, attempting to restrain the excitement on her face.

The guardian may be much larger than me, but he’s entirely focused on the events unfolding in front of him. A strong, unexpected push from behind and he stumbles right in between the newly engaged couple, shoving them apart.

My hand moves to the small dagger concealed against my thigh, easily accessible through the custom slit in the right pocket of my skirt. With a fluidity born of repetition, I deftly sever the necklace string. The pearls glide like magic into my palm, then right into another hidden pocket .

I let out a loud, theatrical gasp, and more heads crane to glimpse the spectacle. But by the time they’re focused on the scene, I’m already standing on the other side of the room.

“Did you see that?” I stage-whisper to the Elite now standing next to me. “Lady Zhao accepted the lord’s proposal, and that Apex went mad with jealousy!”

Excited twittering starts up around the room. A blush stains the lady’s face as she quickly puts space between her and the brute.

“Lady Zhou”—the new fiancé is staring daggers at the guardian, who is more than twice his size—“is this animal bothering you?” I flinch automatically at the slur, but no one in my radius so much as bats an eye.

“Oh!” Her hands flutter anxiously as she steps to the Elite man’s side. “I can’t imagine what’s come over him…”

Count Zhao, his cheeks red from drink, barrels through the crowd. “Hua? What’s the meaning of this?”

“Lady Zhou has accepted my proposal to wed. This Apex seems to think he’s entitled to an opinion about it.” The fiancé says “Apex” like what he really means is strider dung.

The guests recoil, forming a ring of empty space around the guardian, lest any drop of this scandal touch them. I use the natural shuffle of bodies to slip towards the exit.

Hua is baffled, trying to simultaneously assuage her new fiancé and her father. The guardian starts defending himself loudly, and my lips tip up. Wrong move. His protests only serve to enrage the Elite men further. A surge of exhilaration courses through me. Almost complete.

I throw the final log onto the bonfire I’ve built.

“The Pearls of Azure! They’re gone!” I cry out, pointing to Lady Zhao’s now-bare neck. “That Apex must have taken them!”

As the shouts grow louder and multiple guardians rush forward to restrain my patsy, I chance a glance towards where the huge Elite and his guardian were standing…only to find them carefully navigating their way through the rambunctious crowd in my direction .

Time for my exit.

But instead of heading to the front door and my waiting cloak, I slip up the stairwell. On the third floor, two doors await me. According to my research, the one on the left leads to the count’s private study. Pausing, I press my ear to the wood. No sound. Perfect. With a few deft moves, I pick the lock, silently thanking Xinlei for the excellent lockpicks, made of his own design. The door clicks open, and I slide in.

The count’s study exudes masculine luxury: heavy wood furniture, dark textiles. And…there! Across the sumptuous room, the moonlight from the window reflecting off it, is a glass case where the pearls would typically be on display.

No need to break into an empty case. Instead, I slide a tiny amber figurine of a lynx from another hidden pocket and place it gently on top. My calling card.

For a moment, I admire the beautiful symmetry of the amber lynx atop the empty case. But the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs jolts me out of my reverie. Just one set. It has to be one of the rival thieves.

Forget letting me go to Veridia with Eleni. Xinlei will murder me if I get caught because I was leaving a godsdamn calling card.

In less than a second, I determine that the hushed footfalls are too close and too fast for an escape. I’ll have to hide.

Throwing the window wide open to stage a false exit, I duck under the count’s massive wooden desk. My hand instinctively moves the pearls from the pocket in my skirt to the more secure one sewn into my bodice. They’re almost…thrumming, like tiny bees are trapped inside. My fingers tingle from the brief moment they touched my bare skin.

The footsteps are heavy—maybe the big man. My heart pounds double-time.

There’s no reason for whoever that is to open the shut door and come into this room. Even if I’m right and those men were thieves, why would they expect me to hide here?

The door creaks open anyway .

My breath stills. They should see the open window and assume I’m long gone.

But no. As if in a nightmare, the owner of the footsteps (alone for now, but I can hear two more sets start up the stairs) beelines straight for my hiding place under the desk.

I mentally curse in four different dialects. What the hells is happening right now?

Two black trouser-clad legs ending in surprisingly utilitarian boots stop right at the opening to the desk.

Then a rich male baritone in a cultured Elite Veridian accent says, “The Lynx, I presume?”