A Study in Drowning

by Ava Reid

Preston’s tone dripped with irony, and Effy rolled her eyes. “It must be immensely frustrating for you, to put up with all our Llyrian superstitions. Just because it’s an archaic belief doesn’t mean it’s not true.” “Argant has plenty of its own superstitions, let me assure you. But I think magic is just the truth that people believe. For most people, that truth is whatever helps them sleep at night, whatever makes their lives easier. It’s different from objective truth.” Effy laughed shortly. “No wonder you’re such a terrible liar.” It did charm her to know that despite all his monologuing about good lies requiring a willing audience, he still flushed and stammered over his falsehoods. “I don’t like lying.” Preston folded his arms over his chest. “I know it’s not realistic, but the world would be a better place if everyone just told the truth.” It was a strangely naive thing to say. Effy had never thought much about the lies she told—she didn’t feel good about them, but they didn’t rend her apart with guilt, either. Lying was a form of survival, a way out of whatever trap had been set. Some animals chewed off their own limbs to escape. Effy just tucked away truth after truth, until even she wasn’t sure if there was a real person left at all, under all those desperate, urgent lies. But it had been a long time since she’d even tried telling anyone the truth. She just assumed no one would believe her. Preston especially, with his pretentiousness and disdain for anything that ...

Magic.