Scheming Beech

Emory dropped her eyes and began plucking at her skirt, fluffing it over her knees and smoothing it with her hand, then fluffing it again. Her thick red hair tendrilled around her face and she pushed a piece behind her ear.

"I… you caught that… I hoped you hadn't caught that." She bit her lip and wouldn't meet my eyes.

"I caught it."

Emory's eyes flicked up to meet mine, unreadable. "I wasn't… I haven't actually lied to you," she said quickly. "It's only natural. You just assumed—"

"That's not the point," I said, trying not to let my voice betray how angry I suddenly felt that she'd hidden this from me. She had clearly known all along where I was from. Or was this something else? My anger drained away. Was she being deceived by someone? Had she been taught things from my world without knowing it? "Tell me, Emory."