Page 11 of Fortress of Ambrose (House of Marionne #3)

Eight

Yagrin

Yagrin wasn’t sure how to read Nore. She stood there in the alleyway, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

He could smell the dishonesty on her even though he wasn’t sure where to pin it.

She’s been living a lie her entire life.

The girl had no magic. He blinked, really seeing her for the first time. And it stunned him.

“The journal is long gone,” he said, trying to move on, reminded they’d made no progress. If he’d known she didn’t have magic, he wouldn’t have put them in that situation. “We’ll have to think of something else.”

Nore shook her head. She reached into the back of her dress and pulled out the leather journal.

“How did you—”

“I wasn’t taking any chances. The one in my bag was a fake. I swapped it quickly with one I found at the hostess booth. He ran off with Sixty Clever Uses for Saffron.”

Yagrin burst out laughing. She was really something.

“Still, we don’t know what the sketches mean. And there was that weird thing he said at the tattoo shop. Maybe I misheard.” She tapped her lip. A bicyclist zoomed past and Yagrin hardly saw him coming. The day had dimmed, with no glimpse of sunlight between the buildings.

“Let’s get moving,” he told her. They walked back toward the main road in the direction of the place where they’d been staying—a room at a hotel unaffiliated with his father’s.

He had to be careful. It was a long walk, a dozen blocks at least, and they did most of it in silence to a backdrop of the buzzing city streets.

He watched her. It wasn’t often someone got one over on him like that.

The not having magic and the decoy journal.

It was a bit impressive. He chuckled under his breath.

“What are you laughing at?” She cut him a glance that could kill.

“Nothing, really.”

“Because I can’t think of anything that’s funny. People are after my blood.” She bit down on her already swollen lip. “We’ve been at this for weeks and the one idea I had ran off thanks to you attacking him.”

He wouldn’t take the bait. Arguing wouldn’t get them anywhere. And he was too distracted, captivated, even, that she’d made it to the ripe age of—

“How old are you?”

Her brow furrowed. She sighed, exasperated. “Here I thought the last few blocks you were drumming ideas about how to find the other half of the Scroll, when you’re clearly replaying your favorite comedy routine in your head and pondering my age.” She rubbed her temples.

“It was just a question. And I’m fully on task. You’re the liar here.” He winced. Maybe he shouldn’t have said that. After all, he told his fair share of lies.

She stopped.

“That came out wrong. I didn’t mean it as an insult. To be honest—”

“I don’t care what you think of me, Yagrin Richard Wexton the First. In case I didn’t make that clear the first time.”

Hearing his full name felt like a punch in the chest. “How do you know my middle name?”

She started walking again, this time faster. He had to jog a little to keep up.

“When it comes to research, I assure you that I have you beat.” There was a spark of challenge in her eye. As if she dared him to question her. He smirked.

“Well, you’ve warmed up.”

She exhaled a long, dragging sigh as they entered the hotel at Washington Avenue.

She watched every corner of the busy lobby with her arms tight around her.

Ellery putting a bounty on her blood had shaken her up.

He’d abandoned his recent engagement, apparently to focus on apprehending her.

Inside the elevator, Yagrin watched as she pulled out her perfect ponytail and flipped her hair forward, then back, before scooping it up into a messy bun.

The cut on her arm was still bleeding, so Nore cleaned it as soon as they entered their room. There were two beds, as requested. She kicked off her shoes and fell onto one of them, trying to be mindful of the cut. He caught himself tracing her features.

“Nore, if having the truth out there made you feel better, I’m glad you’ve told me.”

Her chin slid over her shoulder at him. “Sure.”

“We have Dublin’s journal. We now know Ellery’s on the offense.

And you seem to have relaxed a bit.” He kicked aside the shoe she left in the middle of the floor to avoid tripping over it.

“Now I know not to put you in a situation where you have to use magic. I almost think we’ll work together better now that I know. ”

Her lips pursed. “You mean that?”

“I do. It makes sense, doesn’t it?”

“I mean, yes, it does.”

“Alright. So I won’t throw it in your face anymore. And you can stop worrying about pretending with me.”

She pulled the covers over her. “Fine.”

He grabbed the journal and sat beside her on the bed, flipping through the scorched pages. “What weird thing did he say at the shop?”

“I was just thinking about it.” She rolled onto her side to face him, her fingers lost in the edges of her red hair.

Her skin looked so soft. The room was a little warm, and the walk was long, so her cheeks were flushed.

She had the biggest eyes, a shade of gray that reminded him of fog-hugged mountains.

There was a dark depth to them. When he realized he’d leaned toward her, he shifted to put more distance between them and tried to focus on the words she was saying.

“Dublin said he’d looked for the Scroll and learned about the places where it’s hidden,” she said. “He spoke of places as if there was more than one.”

“Right, the half you and your brother have.”

“He wasn’t talking about our House. He lived there while he studied. This seemed like multiple places that he traveled to…” She folded her legs up against her.

“He did say something weird when I tried to make a deal with him.” Yagrin hadn’t thought much of it then, but it was odd how he’d mentioned multiple Houses.

“Each of the Houses, right? I thought it was weird, too.” She grabbed the book, looking at the sketches again, and he stared, not at the pages, but at her. It was a shame that her position would corrupt her eventually, if she wasn’t already fully corrupted.

“No way!” She shot up and flipped through the journal, stopping three times to skim a page.

“What?”

“When Caera Ambrose discovered immortality, her greatest fear was that someone would discover it.”

“And?”

“Do you think the Uppers just let her keep a secret to something so powerful?”

His heart hiccupped. “No, they’d want to keep it as secret as possible.”

“Exactly. They’d want it protected. Hard to find. And with checks and balances in place.”

Yagrin could feel her brain buzzing. She showed him the page in Dublin’s journal just before the scorched ones. Travel notes from his Scroll search.

“He noted the unseasonably warm weather in a cliffside palace built of flowers,” she explained. “It doesn’t say where it was, but there’s only one place described as a palace of flowers.”

Yagrin’s heart thudded with knowing.

“Begonia Terrace,” they said at the same time.

“Next, his notes mention monstrous mosquitos beside a curious garden, where he attended a tea party,” she went on. “What garden could be more curious than one with black roses?”

Chateau Soleil. Yagrin pulled the journal toward him and read on. Dublin also noted an oily stench that pervaded the third and final place he visited that summer. It was the first place he’d seen a chandelier made of bone. House of Perl.

“The Scroll is not in two pieces.” Her grin was wide. “It’s in multiple pieces, one in each House.”

Goose bumps ran up his arms. He looked at the journal again.

“What other reason would Dublin, who’s seen all the Order has to offer and these great wonders in the world, visit each of the four Houses during the time when he was searching for the Scroll?”

“You’re right.” Ellery and Nore shared the Ambrose piece. There was a piece at House of Marionne, Oralia, and…He felt sick at the thought of going back to Hartsboro. “We should start with House of Marionne. It’s safest, since Quell is Headmistress now.”

“Is she there?”

“Last I heard, she went to try to find my brother. But regardless, with her mother dead, she is technically in charge. We should be safely received.” This plan could actually work.

She hugged the journal, still smiling. She was damn clever.

“Your brain must weigh a thousand pounds,” he said.

She guffawed. It felt odd and nice both at the same time. Until her smile melted to dread as she gaped at the window.

“They’re back,” she muttered at darker, thicker storm clouds forming outside. “We have to go. Now!”