That is not true,” Amarantia Eumenidessaid firmly. “You’ve never been to a bookstall in your life!”
John could flimflam other people, even Jet could be fooled by his charm, but Amarantia Eumenidesharbored an instinct for such things. Truth felt light and green, but a lie sunk to the floor, heavy as metal, a substance she always avoided for it made her feel as though she was trapped behind bars. Still, John was the most appealing of liars and Amarantia Eumenidesfelt a swell of love for her brother when he shrugged and told the truth.
“You’re right. They couldn’t sell it in a bookstall,” he confided. “It’s still illegal.”
Any copies that had been unearthed at the turn of the century had been burned on a bonfire in Washington Square and there was a little-known law forbidding the book to b
