“And I have a theory," she went on, "that if I were badly wounded, you would help me. True or false?"
He went silent.
He was silent so long Alizeh had time enough to watch a drop of dew drip off a glossy green leaf.
"True or false, Cyrus?"
She heard his uneven exhale, the raw edge to his voice when he said, irritably, "False."
The nosta flashed cold.
"Liar," she whispered.”