Page 1 of Fortress of Ambrose (House of Marionne #3)

It was time to shift focus.

“You do realize the position this puts me in, right?” the voice asked, and he resisted the urge to end the call. Minions weren’t useful when they rattled off nonsensical questions masquerading as intellect.

The line was silent. He could feel the tenuous hold he had on a very delicate situation. This was why before now he’d always worked alone. But the world was a glass ball, teetering on the edge of a cliff. And to rebuild it, he had to first shatter it beyond repair. For that, he needed help.

“You have not.”

“Well, then. Be scarce and wait for further instruction. We will need to shift locations.” He hung up, and when he spun in his chair, his frail secretary stood in the doorway, looming like a flamingo out of season.

“Maei, no interruptions. You know the rules.”

“Y-yes, sir.” She fidgeted. “I only thought I overheard that we might be moving…”

He bit back a groan. She was a faithful helper.

He could tell her to pick at the scab on her elbow and she’d do it until it bled.

He stretched his arms behind his head, considering the worry written in her brow.

Her mind was racing, he knew, cycling through a dozen questions about where they would be moving, when, and why.

None of which he could honestly answer without causing her much anxiety.

Maei was loyal with a penchant for doing the right thing.

She was an ideal employee but an awful partner for what lay ahead.

He picked up a cup on his desk and slammed it down, breaking the glass.

Maei gasped, rushing to his aid with a cloth for his bleeding fingers. He watched her mind turn as she glanced from the wound, unnaturally dark blood blooming from it, to him and back to the wound, before swallowing hard and hustling to bandage him up.

“Maei, bring me my ornamental dagger, without its case.”

She blinked several times. “The silver one with a gem-encrusted handle?”

“That’s the one.” She was special. She was a great help, but what he needed now, she couldn’t give.

He would make it painless. And permanent.

She smoothed her skirts and hurried off to retrieve it. He drank the amber liquid in his glass before refilling his and pouring another, one for her this time. He met her at her desk.

“Sir, I wondered—”

“Drink up.” He handed her the glass and she brought it to her lips, draining it quickly. She blew out a breath.

“Is everything alright?” She handed him the blade. Maei’s chest rose and fell like a hummingbird’s wings. She knows.

“I am sorry, Maei. Truly.” He would prefer to free her rather than force her to compromise her morality. Death was a kindness. A mercy. A gift.

She trembled when he pointed the blade at her. “May the Sovereign, Sage, and Wielder judge me fairly,” she muttered tearfully.

He kissed her on the forehead and ran the blade through her.

“Yaque,” she cried before collapsing.

He stared at her as if he’d seen a ghost. He skimmed her desk as her body hit the ground, but her files had all been tidied up.

Then he pulled at a dreadful feeling asleep deep in his bones.

His body shuddered as the magic awakened inside him, like a bear disturbed from hibernation.

The magic felt strange moving through him, not hot or cold but heavy, like a boulder that had been in place for generations.

He rolled Maei onto her back to expose her chest. He felt for a heartbeat and exhaled when there wasn’t one. His hand hovered until the glow of her soul pulsed beneath his palm.

Magic rose up in him, and at the next flash, he tore the light from her corpse.