House of Marionne

It’s been two days since I stormed out of Jordan’s room, and my annoyance with him still simmers. Fortunately, Abby’s last-minute Cotillion preparations and my own have kept me busy. And now that her day is finally here, I can count on hopefully getting some answers about Nore from Mynick.

“How are you so relaxed? I’ve been a ball of nerves for weeks.” Abby turns both ways in the mirror, checking and rechecking every vantage point of her gown.

“You think I’m relaxed?” I’ve spent the last two nights thinking about Nore and that letter. I’d hoped she’d write again, letting me know that we missed each other. But nothing has come. The last few days have been mind spiraling, heart racing, toushana thirsting. Not to mention I’ve gone back to the forest to use my forbidden magic. Octos’s warning to keep my dark magic in check has haunted me, worrying me that I may be using it more than is okay. “Abby, I am far from relaxed.”

“Well, you play it off well.” She grabs her riband. “Help me with this, I can’t lift my arms.”

I lay the satin over her and adjust the fleur so it’s on her chest. “You look perfect.”

“Really? Don’t lie to me because I’m your friend.”

“Stop it. You couldn’t be more beautiful.”

“My dagger, where’s my—”

“It’s here.” I grab it, careful to hold it in the cloth it’s wrapped in, and hand it to her.

“Okay, I think I’m ready.”

“You have the oath in your purse in case you get stuck?”

“Yep.”

“Duct tape and pins?”

She pulls out a flat fold of tape and pins from her bag. “Wardrobe-malfunction-ready, yep.”

“Lips?”

“Painted.”

“Diadem?”

“Polished.” She tilts her head down, and I double-check.

“Boobs?”

“Pushed together.”

“Okay, you’re definitely ready.”

“Oh, Quell.” She throws her arms around me. “Promise you’ll come visit. A year is a long time. But the Healer facility where I’m interning allows visitors, so you have to come.”

The reality that this room won’t ring with Abby’s voice tomorrow night twists me in a knot. I’m going to miss her. “I will do my best.” But the truth is it’s probably easier this way. That she leaves first. Because I don’t know where I’m headed after my own Cotillion.

Someone knocks at the door.

I open it, and three cameras flash at once.

“Oh, sorry. You want her,” I say, ducking out of the way and blinking away the white spots.

Mrs. Feldsher rushes in with a bunch of other people who all resemble Abby. Their arms are full of flowers, and her father’s face shines with a sleek mask. I back up as they swarm her with cheers and look for Mynick.

“Whoa, watch it.” It’s Mynick I’ve backed into as he comes through the door.

“Abs, we should probably get going,” Mr. Feldsher says, before checking his mask in the mirror.

“See you two out there,” Abby says as she and her family hurry out the door.

“Hey, thanks for the invite.” Mynick offers his arm. “Shall we?”

“Why, thank you,” I say, taking it, mocking the formality of it all.

He snickers. “Thanks again for doing this. I owe you one.”

“I’ll be sure to think of a way you can repay me.”

By telling me all you know about Nore Ambrose.

The Grand Ballroom is decked out in hues of blush and gold. Arched windows have been sheathed in shiny fabric that cascades to the floor. Everything shimmers.

There are six chairs on the small center stage but only five daggers. I skim the program.

“Shelby’s missing.”

“Who?” Mynick asks, snaking his way between the tables toward the one marked with Abby’s surname.

“Nothing.”

We find our seats when music booms and the lights dim. The audience quiets as the doors part. I lean into Mynick, whispering, “So tell me about Nore Ambrose.”

He teeters off the edge of his seat, craning for a glimpse of the debs as they enter and stream right into their group dance. “What about her?”

Abby catches us looking, and we wave.

“Oh, you know . . . what is she like? Is she in any of your sessions?” Does she have toushana?

“You ask that like it’s someone I actually know.”

“So you don’t know her?”

“I know you more than I know her.” He laughs. “No one gets close to Nore. Headmistress would lose it.”

“So she’s sheltered?”

“To the extreme.”

Before I can get another question in, we stand with the whole room, applauding as the group dances finish and Abby takes the floor with her date. Mynick reclines in his seat and decides to butter his bread instead of watch.

“You were saying?” I lean forward.

“Why are you so interested in Nore anyway?”

Because she may be a mirror of survival in this world I haven’t conceived of. Because I’ve never even met someone who’s afflicted like I am. Because knowing there’s another heir out there, broken like me, makes my footsteps feel lighter. Makes the air a bit crisper. Makes me feel less broken.

“I have my reasons. Besides, you owe me.”

He grins. “No, but I never see her.”

“She’s inducting, she said. You don’t have sessions with her?”

“She doesn’t live inside the estate.”

“Wait. What?”

Pinched stares glare in my direction as Abby’s dance comes to a close.

“She hasn’t set a foot inside Dlaminaugh in years, I heard.”

The ballroom erupts in raucous applause, and a bell chimes. The crowd goes silent as Abby finishes her dance and approaches the stage to bind with her magic. A spotlight follows her to a small dais shrouded with floral arrangements.

“Abilene Grace Feldsher,” Grandmom bellows into the microphone, and Abby steps forward.

Nore hasn’t set a foot inside Dlaminaugh in years.

And yet she came to the Tea and acted like nothing was wrong.

I keep my eyes ahead, digging my nail into the fabric of the chair, trying to sort out what that means for me.

“It is my distinct honor,” Grandmom says, raising her volume, and I watch as Abby climbs the stage. But the rest of what she says blurs into a haze in my head, which is fully consumed with Nore. The dagger disappears into Abby’s chest with a crack; the lights flicker. I almost miss it.

“On behalf of House of Marionne, the Prestigious Order of Highest Mysteries formally welcomes you, Abilene Grace Feldsher, into our fold. Supra alios.” Grandmom curtsies to Abby.

“Supra alios,” the crowd says.

“Supra alios, Headmistress,” Abby mimics, and Grandmom embraces her.

I wave at her from the crowd, hoping she sees me as she faces everyone, smiling but a bit dazed. Her mother sobs into her arms, and Mynick punches the air, radiating excitement. Abby blinks a few more times, rubbing the tiniest scar where her dagger disappeared. For a moment, the skin beneath it seems to glow or something before Grandmom ushers her offstage and calls for the next debut.

Mynick rises from his seat to get to her. I grab his arm. “Is there anything else you can share?”

“Look, I really don’t know a lot. She has her own cottage on the grounds because she takes her lessons privately. But she never comes out. Like she’s scared to socialize or something. At the start of Season, Headmistress told everyone she was supposed to be going on a diplomatic tour. Debs Daily was supposed to be following the whole story, but nothing ever came out in the paper. Everything about Nore is just weird.”

Dread nudges me. “Mynick, has the Council ever, like, leisurely visited Dlaminaugh?”

“Once, and not the whole Council. Just one of the Headmistresses.”

“Who?”

“Headmistress Perl. Sorry, I wish I knew more.” He shrugs before walking off to find Abby.

The ceremony drones on but Mynick’s words pin me in my seat. I could sniff Nore’s secret at a short luncheon, Beaulah would be much more savvy at recognizing the signs. My grip tightens on my chair as the ballroom empties. The walls close in.

Did Beaulah get to Nore? If so, she could get to me.