House of Marionne

I wake to Grandmom’s hand on my back.

“What are you doing here?” I sit up. “I—I mean, good morning, Grandmom.”

“You came in quite late last night. Past curfew.”

I swallow.

“The consequence for that is usually three lashes.”

I wince.

“Not to worry, that practice has been done away with, in our House at least. But I want you to know curfews exist for a reason and I won’t take my heir setting a poor example. People are looking to you as the standard. You are to be . . .” She gestures for me to finish her sentence.

“A cut above the rest.”

She sits beside me on my bed, her posture heavy. “There is one more thing, and I wanted you to hear it from me first.”

Her shoulders sag with a weight that unsettles me. I scrub the crust from my eyes.

“Nore Ambrose has gone missing.”

My blood curdles. My mouth falls open, a gasp stuck in my throat.

“I have to know, Quell, when she left in a rush at the Tea, did you notice anything out of the ordinary?” Grandmom’s pointed stare pierces my insecurity.

“She’d torn her gloves and had to throw them away. But that’s all I really noticed.”

“And what about the letters you’ve exchanged? Did she mention anything that gave you pause?” Grandmom’s sulk has stiffened and I look for some hint of why she’s asking me this, but all I find in her eyes is unyielding insistence.

“She wanted to meet up again. It didn’t strike me as odd.” I look somewhere else other than Grandmom’s stone expression.

“It would be unfortunate if Nore was in trouble and she told someone and that someone didn’t say anything. It might look like that someone wanted her to be hurt.”

“I swear I don’t know anything.”

Her jaw ticks. “So she didn’t confide in you? Or tell you anyone she was scared of?”

“No, none of that.”

“Very well.” She stands, and I push the trash can with Nore’s letter under my bed when her back is turned to avoid things I don’t want to have to explain. “The Council has postponed all events, including your Cotillion, until Nore is found. I’m sure you understand.”

“Yes, of course.”

“I’ll be in and out traveling for a bit to be hands-on with the investigation. If you need anything, you’ll have to see Mrs. Cuthers.”

“All right. Thank you. I hope she’s okay.”

Grandmom glances off, then at me. “Right, yes. I hope so, too. Oh, and this came for you just now.” She hands me an envelope, and I rip it open.

“It’s from my mom,” I say before realizing there might be things in the letter Mom doesn’t want Grandmom to know.

“Thank you again.” I hold the note to my chest, and her nostrils flare as she lets herself out.

Remember, stay put. See you soon.

I clutch the letter to myself in relief before sticking it in a drawer as the knowledge that Nore is missing tugs at my conscience. Once I’m sure Grandmom’s farther away, I bolt out the door. I have to find Jordan. The halls are full, but I’m numb to their rotation. There’s no sign of Jordan in the dining hall or the security booth. I even go to the Gents Wing and bang on his door. Nothing.

Panic seizes in me, and my toushana wakes to greet me. I tense, willing it back down, but I can still see Nore’s face draining of color. I rush to the foyer, through the broom closet door, and down the corridor toward the forest, trying to choke down the bile rising in my throat. I push through the doors, and outside morning fog hugs the trees.

My chest is tight, my bones colder as the Dust in me fights back but fails against my snowballing panic. Jordan, I need to find him. I need answers. But first— In the privacy of the Secret Wood, I fall to my knees and sink my hands into the earth and let the cold burn through me. Decay spreads around me like a swelling pool of blood, and my pulse slows. I blow out a breath and sit there until my knees ache, until my toushana finally settles like a feather done being blown about by the wind. My black diadem pricks my memory. I hope I don’t regret this.

I inhale the woodsy morning scent of cypress and earth, reminding myself I’m still alive. I’m still here. I rise and start my cleanup, dusting my shame from my pant legs.

“Quell?”

I turn and there’s Jordan. My heart stops.

“What are you doing out here?”

“I . . . was looking for you.”

“Here?” His mouth twists in suspicion.

A bit of truth is the only way I’ll get out of this. “I followed you here, that night after the Tavern. I—I saw what you did with your . . . you know.” My gaze hits the ground for fear he might see how much I’m holding back.

He sighs. “I hate you saw that. I hate you know that’s what this place is.”

“What do you mean?”

“Look around.”

His words seep into me like a sieve, and for the first time I really take in the forest in morning light. It’s littered with broken trees as far as I can see. But most are more than broken, they’re bent in half, bits of them decayed. The ground is blotchy, not just where I’m standing, but more or less all over.

I’m not the first to come here to use toushana. Nor is he.

I hug around myself.

He steps closer to me, misreading my discomfort entirely. But it’s a balm I cling to, a shield I will use.

“I heard about Nore from Grandmom, but she wouldn’t say much.” My chest squeezes, awaiting his answer. “Does she have . . .”

“You will repeat this to no one.”

I nod.

“We’ve heard whispers about her. But we didn’t have orders to officially pursue her, so we haven’t. But Quell, this feels like an inside job. I’m going to volunteer to help with the investigation. It’s not my House, so I have no grounds to, but—”

“You want to.”

“Yes.”

“So you’re leaving again.”

“It’s the right thing to do. This reeks of treason.”

The more he’s with them, the greater chance he could rub elbows with the Dragun after me. I don’t like this. I want to keep him in my presence, plug my fingers in his ears. I want to shield his eyes from a world that would tear us apart. I want to hold what we have, selfishly, with both my hands. And I refuse to feel wrong for that. “Stay, please.”

“I won’t be gone long. She is probably . . . you know.”

Dead. I swallow and nod.

“And if so, I intend to get to the bottom of who killed her and why. This has got to stop.”

I tense in his arms, and he wraps me tighter in them.

“Please, remain on the grounds while I’m gone and . . .” He pulls away from me. “I need to show you this. But you can’t tell anyone.” He presses his hand firmly to himself. Then his fist disappears into his chest. I gasp as he pulls his hand back out. His kor flickers on the tip of his finger. With his free hand he gathers a fistful of air. Fog forms at his lips and in seconds shadows appear inside his palm. He joins the toushana to the red flame and it flickers silver. “I can shift my kor from just an energy source to a magnetic one. It’s called Tracing.”

“I’ve never heard of—”

“And you wouldn’t. It’s a mystery, written into the folds of Dragun lore.”

“What does it do?”

He holds the silver fire to my chest. “Magic is strongest in the heart, that’s why when you bind, you press your dagger into it. If you let me put a piece of my kor inside you, our hearts will be like poles of a magnet, tethering us together, so that anytime you’re experiencing extreme distress, I can sense it and come to you immediately.”

“You think I’m in danger?”

“No, but all it takes is an overly ambitious fool,” he snaps. “Please.”

“Does it hurt?”

“It shouldn’t. It just can’t be removed. Ever.”

I can think of a thousand reasons to say no, but I can think of several others to say yes.

“Okay.”

He holds the silver flame to my chest, and pressure gathers at the meeting of my ribs. He flicks at the base of the silver fire, and a single lick of flame leaps from his hand to my chest. He places his palm over the spot, and his kor seeps into me, its flicker glowing beneath my skin. He replaces the rest of the flame back into himself. For several moments, I’m a bit woozy. Then I wriggle as it settles deep inside with a shudder, the metallic glow dimming. I touch the spot where his magic disappeared. There’s no going back now. I have to keep myself under control, calm. And get through Cotillion.

“Promise me you won’t leave the grounds until I return.”

“I promise.”

He turns to go, and my heart pounds faster.

He stops. “It’s going to be okay.”

“You can feel that?”

He smiles and walks away.