House of Marionne

Grandmom sent staff to gather my dress, shoes, accessories, and things late last night. The next morning, I wake before my alarm, painfully aware that tonight I leave this place. The comfort of this bed, the security of these walls, the laughter held within this room. It’s over. A part of me aches, wishing I could live a moment longer in this nightmare and still pretend it’s a daydream. It’s a naive thought, but undeniable.

I grab my dagger, some enhancers I have left, a few books, and my postcard of the beach. Once my bag is full I exit and pull the door to my room closed. My fist tightens on the knob. I’ve left countless places. But this feels different. Because I believed this place would be different.

The clarity unsticks my fingers from the brass, and I force myself to back away. To see this for what it is. I was seduced by Chateau Soleil’s glitter, the allure that I could fit in a place so magnificent. That being here would tell me who the girl in the mirror is, when it’s how I saw her that needed to change. I’m still figuring out who she is.

But whoever that girl is—she is free.

The House is as quiet as it was when I went to bed. I glimpse the hall that leads to the Gents Wing as I pass, and my anger mangles with sorrow. I don’t want to see him until I absolutely have to. I’m not sure how I’ll bear to even look at him or how it will feel. Forget him. Forget it all.

I climb the stairs and knock on Grandmom’s door.

“Right on time,” she says, her hair still up in curlers. “Well, you don’t look excited. Today’s your big day.”

I reach for a smile but my gut swims with irritation at having to pretend all over again. She and her puppets will fawn over me and I’ll have to bear it. I’ll have to play the part of the obedient heir. One more time. I swallow it down and it burns like bile. But this is the beginning of the end. My lips tug up a bit easier.

“Much better.” She opens the door wider and I step inside.

My dress hangs from the window in Grandmom’s sitting room, caught in the morning’s glow. I run my fingers across its fabric, every speckle intentionally placed, and imagine what it would feel like to put this on and not know. To go out there wrapped in the beauty and perfume of Grandmom’s world oblivious of the rot hidden between its layers. How glorious that must feel. Did Mom get that far? I’m going to ask her. I’m going to ask her a lot of things when we get back together.

I survey the rest of everything set out for me. Sparkly shoes and a handbag in satin blush with a fleur clasp that was specifically made for tonight’s ceremony. It’s all so gorgeous. Maybe I’ll pretend, tonight, that all this get-up, the pomp and circumstance, is a toast to freeing myself. Grandmom watches me closely, from her breakfast table, and for a moment, I worry she’s heard my treasonous thoughts.

A wooden box engraved with the name collins is set next to a boutonniere made with black dahlia and pink peony. I crack it open and my blade gleams at me, shinier than I’ve ever seen it.

“All in order?” Grandmom asks.

“I think so.”

“Plume is managing the setup downstairs. I peeked at the centerpieces; they’re beautiful.”

“Thank you.”

I’m summoned for a bath by beauty Shifters who fawn over me with elixirs to decorate my nails, soften my skin, and give it a glow. When the bath is finished, the Shifter does something else that makes me smell like a garden of roses. Once I’m dressed, I cover myself in a robe and join Grandmom in the sitting room, where a meal awaits.

“Have you eaten?” She slides me a plate and I take a few bites, too distracted by what’s ahead to eat. A bell chimes and the door opens. It’s Mrs. Cuthers with an envelope, with Abby’s name in slanted letters on the back.

“This came for you, Quell.”

I wait for my toushana to strangle me with panic, but it only flutters below my skin in a hushed calm. She knows I’m not trying to get rid of her and she is completely at peace.

“Isn’t Miss Feldsher going to see you tonight?” Grandmom inspects the letter, tugging at its seam, and my heart pounds. But the magic works as it should and it doesn’t open. She hands it to me, flustered. “Well, go on. What does she want?”

If I open the letter, Grandmom will read it. My toushana hums in agreement. If I lie, she may see through me. My dark magic burns colder. No, I don’t think that’s a good idea either. The best thing I can do is try for an earnest distraction. The chill in my veins hums, content, as if in agreement.

“I’m not sure,” I say to Grandmom, tossing Abby’s letter aside. “Mrs. Cuthers, before you go, you have to see my dress!” I hop up from the table with more zeal than I feel and pull her over to the window to behold the magnificence Vestiser Laurent created for me.

“Oh, Quell, it’s exquisite.” She pulls the hanger down and holds it to me, and I spin.

“And the shoes!” I drag her from item to item, doting until Grandmom’s pulled into a conversation with her own beauty Shifter for the day. The excitement drones on and when Grandmom’s not paying the least bit of attention, I slip the note into my bag and stuff the whole thing in a corner.

Grandmom checks her watch. “It’s about time to start your makeup and hair. Pictures will begin two hours before the ceremony.”

I climb into the chair and recognize the beauty Shifter as the same one who helped me on festival day. “Sam, is it?”

“Yes, Miss.” She blushes and works her magic over my face, reminding me ten thousand times to look at her instead of at the corner where I hid my bag. When she’s done, she moves on to my hair. I opt for a simple updo since I’ll be donning giant earrings from the House’s parure. While Sam works my hair with her magic into different styles until she finds one she likes, I spot Grandmom slipping out into the hall for a private word with the caterer. I hop out of the chair.

“Miss, I’m not—”

“Just a second!” I hurry to my bag, dig out the note, and rip it open.

Oh my gosh! I hope you’re okay. I’ll do as you say. And there’s something I need to tell you. I heard Nore Ambrose might be dead! See you tonight.

—Abby

The door to Grandmom’s room clicks open, and I call on my toushana to turn the note to ash. I hide the mess in my bag and return to my chair.

“We’re about done, I hope?” Grandmom says, checking her watch again.

“Yes, ma’am.” Sam hands me a mirror.

Grandmom takes it out of my hand. “No time. Everyone out, please!” She pulls down my dress as the room empties. “It’s only fair that I get to see you first in your gown.” She winks.

I swallow the lump in my throat as I slip the gown over my head.

Grandmom’s lips twist. She taps them.

“Is something wrong?”

I turn for a glimpse in a mirror, but she snatches me forward.

“No, no, I don’t think so.”

I gaze at the sea of sparkling chiffon swishing around me. “I think it’s stunning, Gran—”

“Get Vestiser Laurent here, now,” she says to someone outside the door.

“I really don’t want to make any trouble, this is fine.”

“Nonsense, Laurent was told to stand by for last minute changes.”

Last minute changes? The snag in what I thought was happening unsettles me, but I bite my tongue as Vestiser Laurent enters.

“My apologies, Headmistress, is something not to your liking?” he asks, his expression pinched with concern.

“This is not going to work.”

“I don’t understand. I handstitched this gown with my four-thread twine, the absolute best for magical conduction. The fabric is lined with Cultivator agents, so any magic she uses while wearing it lasts longer. There’s Retentor resistance worked into the inner sleeves, masked by those sparkles, to ensure her magic cannot be easily removed. I’ve put all the bells and whistles on this thing.”

“What use are bells and whistles if it’s ugly? It’s too humdrum. Too expected.” Grandmom turns me and I catch a sweeping glimpse of myself. I look fine. More than fine. Really pretty. But I keep my mouth shut. This is her show, and she has to believe I’m fully compliant.

Vestiser Laurent smiles at me bashfully, and I try my best to smile back in a way that says, It’s really okay, don’t be embarrassed.

“I need you to fix it to my liking. Or I’m afraid you will not be compensated.”

“I can do it just like you wish.” He pulls off his coat and fluffs the end of my gown. “Now, tell me what you’re thinking.”

Grandmom reaches for words as if she could find them in the air. “Quell is the heir of a great House. No one will remember this dress. Quell should be a sight others miss when she’s gone, like a fine piece of art. I am not missing this!”

Vestiser Laurent’s hands work furiously over the fabric, sweat beading on his brow. I watch stunned as his magic transforms the thin breathy fabric into a thicker one with fleurs that shimmer when the dress shifts a certain way.

“Perhaps . . .” He taps his lip. “More moon illuminance could give us better shine than the rhinestone beading.” He pulls his magic as if poking with tiny pins at each speckle, and one by one they shine brighter.

The corner of Grandmom’s mouth tugs up.

“Do you know,” she says to me, her tone decidedly lighter, “a Vardena Toussaint?”

“The first débutante of our House, I believe? Daughter of Bradley Toussaint, Upper, Two of Twelve, founding member of the Order.”

“She set the standard thereafter of what debs would aspire to in her day.” She pulls at my chin. “You will set the standard. You hear that, Vestiser Laurent? You’re not making a dress. You’re defining an era.”

Laurent finishes and Grandmom tugs the zipper.

“Well, what do you think?” he asks.

Grandmom’s silent, motioning for me to turn around and take a look. I glimpse myself in a full-length mirror and gasp, searching for words, but they don’t come.

“Quell?”

“It was beautiful before, truly gorgeous. But this . . . this . . . I—I—”

She is breathtaking.

Me.

I am breathtaking.

“Speechless. Exactly the response we’re going for.” She turns to thank Laurent, and I chance another glance in the mirror. The pale blush fabric glimmers with a sheen, and every twist I make, the fabric sparkles brighter than a starry night sky. The scoop neckline dances on the edge of my shoulder, and crystal beading cascades down my arms as if on an invisible piece of tulle. If I was dressed for a nice dance before, I’m fancy enough to be crowned queen of something now.

Laurent departs, and I gape in the mirror until Grandmom pulls me away to help me with my shoes. I can’t let whatever this is seduce me. I have a plan, and no matter how dreamy the veneer looks on me, I won’t be fooled by it.

“What about the tether?” I ask, focusing on the matter at hand. “How does it work exactly?”

“Just make sure when you bind with your magic, you’re standing in the center of the stage so that it takes,” Grandmom says, pulling at the ties on my dress to cinch them tight. “The magic is veiled over the stage.”

I nod. So bind offstage. Got it.

She grabs my shoulders, forcing me to look up at her. “Today is the first day of the rest of your life, Quell. A very different life than you’ve had. I’m so proud of you. Are you ready, dear?”

“More than you know.”

“Well then, shall we?” Grandmom opens the door and there is Jordan in a tux, holding my corsage.