Page 25 of Fortress of Ambrose (House of Marionne #3)

Twenty

Nore

The winding road along the drive to Begonia Terrace was speckled with sun-kissed vineyards and lush hills, but Nore sat in the back of the driver’s car with clenched fists.

She watched the sky behind them. The ancestors weren’t following them this time, it appeared.

But she’d feel better when she crossed the property line up ahead.

Nore couldn’t stop thinking about the cryptic message carved in broken glass on the pavement.

Soon.

Soon they would have her heart.

Soon she would have to fulfill the Pact.

The dead were getting more aggressive. Thankfully, the person driving the crashed car walked away, despite being pretty banged up.

Ambrose Headship changed at age twenty-two.

The serving Headmistress’s heart was removed from the glass box and returned.

And the new heir gave up theirs. Unless the Headmistress died first. Ellery’s plan.

Succession passed down to a child or it jumped family bloodlines. It did not change between siblings.

She had to die first, then her mother, to ensure Headship passed to him. And it felt like Ellery’s hands were already wrapped around her throat.

Yagrin, who hadn’t spoken to her much since they landed, turned to her now as they were nearing their destination. She longed for the boy who sat inches away to tell her it would be alright. To let her break, for a moment, in his arms.

“You never told me why the dead are after you, specifically. Does it have something to do with your brother?”

“Yes.”

“He’s sending them to capture you?”

“I think so. Or to scare me. I’m not really sure. But I know he wants to get his hands on me to kill me to force Headship to pass to him.”

Nore’s mind flooded with memories of the brother who’d stood in the way of their mother’s cruelty, always telling her that she was good enough.

Her eyes stung with tears. She tried to blink them away.

But her chin dropped to her chest as she relived the horror she’d boxed away since she’d been on the hunt for the Scroll pieces with Yagrin.

“Are you alright?” Yagrin looked at her squarely. Her heart twinged.

She cleared her throat but couldn’t lie this time. “I don’t know.”

“Would you like a book or something?” He patted his pockets. “I have this pamphlet I nabbed from the airport on aerodynamics that you might find distracting.” He handed it to her, and she couldn’t help but grin.

“Why on earth are you reading about nuclear fission?”

“Oh, I just needed a place to toss my gum.”

She laughed, and it felt like weeds being pruned from her soul.

“Seriously, if you are not fine, that’s—” He spread his fingers apart on the seat between them. “You’re allowed to not be okay.”

She studied his dark brown eyes as his gaze danced across her face, wondering what he was thinking.

She shook her head. There was no time for her not to be okay. Her being okay was the only way she was holding herself together, traveling with him, sitting so close while slowly dying inside of longing to be known by him completely. No secrets. No lies.

“You’re allowed to be scared.”

“This hurts me more than anything.” When she heard the words come out of her mouth, she pressed back in her seat, hoping he wasn’t really listening. She’d been too honest.

“I don’t understand. You and your mother are close?”

All that Yagrin knew was that Ellery Ambrose had kidnapped their mother and Nore suspected he was going to try to kill her. She bit her lip. Then she opened her mouth and the truth fell out.

“I hate my mother. But I need her alive.”

Yagrin’s stare narrowed. “Go on.”

“When she dies, our House tradition orders that I am Headmistress. I refuse to be Headmistress of a House that’s never wanted me.

My brother wants the gig, and he intends to kill me to pull it off.

” Her breath hitched. What was she doing?

But by the Sovereign it felt good to finally speak the truth!

Yagrin leaned forward as if he was about to speak, only to turn and stare out the window again.

Her heart knocked into her ribs.

“You want the Scroll for yourself. To keep her alive.”

She was too far upstream in the truth to lie now. “Yes, Yagrin, I do.”

“You never intended for my brother to have it.”

“Did you?”

His jaw clenched.

“I’m sure you can understand what it’s like to walk in my shoes. You hate the Order and do anything you can to avoid it!” She bound her lips shut. She’d gone too far. She had to stop now, before his expression changed from confusion to heartbreak—that was a loss Nore couldn’t take.

Everything else had gone wrong, not as planned.

The one thing that was sort of going right was that she was near him.

And despite the perpetual torture, there were moments of the sweetest delight.

Like in the airport. And rummaging around Chateau Soleil.

And puzzling out the roses. And listening to him try to compliment her intelligence.

His jokes. His disdain for the Order was life-giving.

She’d missed being so near it. In a way, Yagrin knew her in ways no one else did.

He knew the persona she’d made up and the fugitive heir she was.

He just didn’t know they were the same person.

“Say something, Yagrin. Please.”

The car stopped. A gate hidden in lush greenery towered ahead of them. Beyond it were rolling hills covered in vineyards. The window rolled down. Yagrin flashed his Dragun coin at a box protruding toward them, and the gate opened.

“You’ve never been here before either?” she asked. Resolving to focus on the task ahead, she slipped her fake diadem from her pocket and set it on her head.

“Never.” He didn’t look at her when he spoke, but she couldn’t focus on that. They were there for the last piece before she’d have to face her brother. If Yagrin was done helping her because she’d lied to him, she’d just have to find a way to finish on her own. She wasn’t a quitter.

“Begonia Terrace’s security is a known joke,” he added.

That didn’t bode well for the Scroll piece being securely held.

Nore’s stomach was a knot. Beyond the gates, the sun hovered on a horizon of endless hills.

The grounds were rich with color; flowers and overgrown vines covered every structure and lined every paved road.

There were tucked-away courtyards rimmed in boxwoods and quaint stone cottages.

In the distance were three separate houses, their facades almost entirely covered in foliage and flowers.

“Which house is the main House?” But as the car rolled to a stop in the half circle drive where the three similarly sized houses sat, Nore noticed that above each pair of grand doors the thick vines had been trimmed away to reveal an engraving.

Where she expected to see Oralia’s name, each house bore a word.

Corporeal.

Cerebvis.

Sensarus.

“Your guess is as good as mine.” Yagrin stepped out and opened her door. Perhaps he wasn’t furious with her. She was a mirror of his own hypocrisy. He wanted that Scroll for himself, too! He couldn’t judge her for her having her own motives.

The car drove off, and she pondered every bit of Latin she knew. Studying the dead language had its etymological uses. Corpus was a root word often used for things relating to the body. Cereb often referred to the mind.

“Let’s get on with it. This one’s good enough.” Yagrin started toward the middle house, Corporeal. She stuck to his heels. They walked up a few short steps and stood before the door. She gazed around for some sign of security or something, but there wasn’t a soul in sight.

“Can you hear anything with your senses?” she tried to ask, but no sound came out of her mouth.

Yagrin tried to speak, but his mouth moved wordlessly.

Nore couldn’t hear anything, she realized. She watched the trees moving with no sound to the wind. She ground her boot in the gravel. Silent. Audior magic.

She felt around the door handle, grabbed it, and pushed.

The heavy wooden door opened without a sound.

They shared a glance before stepping inside.

The hall was dark; warm lanterns swung from the paneled ceiling.

They walked down the long hall until the foyer corridor opened up to a wide rotunda lined with doors.

The room was larger than any ballroom at Dlaminaugh.

It might have been larger than any room Nore had ever seen.

There was a roped-off circle in the center of the room, but nothing was within it.

A projection of the Sphere used to hang there, she realized.

Ding!

The sudden sound struck like a splash of red paint on a blank canvas.

Then she heard someone playing the piano.

Well. She and Yagrin rushed toward the door where the music carried in.

Inside was an auditorium with seats filled to the brim with people.

And a stage where a lone person stood in a fine teal gown with a sparkly mask on their face, twinkling in the stage lights.

Their body swayed as they moved their arms in evocative motions. With every shift in their body, the piano music played; it was the only sound she heard. Suddenly she understood. The Audior magic was in place so nothing could interfere with the exquisite performance.