Page 35 of Fortress of Ambrose (House of Marionne #3)

Twenty-Eight

Jordan

Quell is too hard on herself. I wait on the stairs for her until the world sways. She doesn’t come down. By noon, I drag myself to my bed and sleep. Finally.

When I wake, a day has passed. My bruise is almost completely faded.

Smooth skin covering my ribs. There’s no pain.

Quell hasn’t come by. There is no note. I’m not sure what other problems having the Sphere’s magic inside me could cause.

And I’m not willing to “feed the toushana,” whatever that means, as Zecky suggested. I need this magic out of me.

I turn his card in my pocket, pondering how trustworthy Zecky could be. He’s really smart. He knew stuff about toushana even I haven’t heard. Willam would know. I look for him but find Yani.

“There you are,” she says. “You’re a ghost around here.”

“I’m looking for Willam.” I try to walk past her. She gets in my way. “What do you need?” I ask.

“I just wanted to know what’s wrong. I heard you have some kind of wound. Is it from the Sphere’s magic?”

“That’s not your concern.”

“I want to help.”

“Busy yourself with cleaning up around here, help Dexler, or learn to knit for all I care.” I keep walking.

“I know he healed you of something. Is the Sphere’s magic hurting you? I heard you screaming.”

I stop.

“I know you think you can’t trust me. But you can.”

My blood writhes. “Eavesdropping on me doesn’t help your case. Spend your time getting in good with Willam. Maybe he’ll take you under his wing once this is all said and done. I’m a lost cause, Yaniselle.”

“Then I’ll prove it to you. I’ll show you.”

I don’t bother with a response. Before I round the corner, she says, “Willam’s in the library.”

When I reach the library, he is sifting through books on the shelves with Knox.

“What are you looking for?”

Willam drops his book. Knox is much more cool and collected. “We’re looking for historical texts on House organization, land acquisition. Those sorts of things.”

“I came to talk and thank you.” Maybe niceness helps. “Zecky did a solid job.”

“So then, you’ve come with your answer about our House.”

“I’ve come to say I’ll consider it. But I’m still recovering. Quell is dealing with a lot being back here. Give us more time. That’s all I ask.”

“That’s reasonable,” Knox says before Willam can respond. The shirt he wears today dips below his throat, and I notice some kind of sprawling tattoo across it. But he tucks his chin down, adjusting his collar before I can make out what it is.

“Was there anything else?” he asks.

“Tell me more about Zecky. What’s he like?”

“Brilliant. A bit arrogant, but the really smart ones usually are. He plays it too fast and loose opening up his safe house to new people. But I wouldn’t trust anyone else with the lives of my family.”

Knox studies me. “Jordan, you’re not alright.”

“I will be.” I leave them and read Zecky’s card again. If he can help me, I can start rebuilding. He proved himself once. Feeling out trusting him with this is at least worth a shot. What other options do I have?

Cold magic hums in my chest as I slip out of House of Marionne under a dimming blue sky.

Toushana tugs sharply in me as I glare back at the estate.

Quell won’t be happy about me doing this behind her back.

But I hurry out of the property’s gate into open acreage, where I can cloak. I reread the card.

The chorus of bells chime.

There, never brighter, has the Sovereign shined.

The well listens, the well sees, the well knows how to find me.

I pull at the shadows, hoping my cloak works as it should. A prickle of cold claws at the underside of my skin. Tippets Square.

To my relief, the world disappears.

It’s not dawn, and the Minneapolis streets are full of people. I steady myself, waiting for the cloaking magic to wear off. That’s when I notice a patch of fabric from my coat is missing, severed nearly at its seams. Not all of me made it with the cloak.

Magic is weakening.

I slip into the crowd with my collar pulled, careful to stick to shadows.

With a quick stride I cross an intersection to enter Tippets Square.

The entire block is home to dozens of churches, attracting tourists from all over.

At dawn, the church bells chime a special melody all at once.

At the center of the square is a courtyard with stone statues—each an artistic interpretation of what Sola Sfenti would have looked like when he roamed the earth centuries ago.

The plaques at their feet label them as mythical gods from some kind of Unmarked lore.

I pass a couple trying to stop their child from decorating a statue with chewing gum.

Beside the stone statues is a sparkling fountain shooting water in the air.

I check the card again and sit on the fountain’s edge.

A few minutes pass, and when the bells ring, I set the card in the water.

It dissolves, sinking below the surface.

Then a ghost of Zecky’s face appears where the card vanished.

“Bay Hill Church, front steps.”

I hustle out of the square, toward an ornate stone building surrounded by hedges. I climb the steps about halfway and busy myself reading its plaques. Someone clears their throat behind me.

“Are you feeling alright?” Zecky asks, pretending to admire the carved detailing in the stonework. “I didn’t expect to see you so soon.”

“I came for assistance with another matter,” I say, keeping my back to him.

“Yes, your situation is precarious,” he says.

“You can do all kinds of things that are out of the ordinary?”

“Extraordinary, you mean.”

“I want it out.”

He traces his jaw. A beat of silence passes between us. “And what are you going to put the Sphere’s magic into?”

My heart ticks faster. Trust is a risk. Sovereign, don’t let this be a mistake. “Your great-great-however-many-greats-grandfather made the Sphere once. I don’t see why his successor can’t make another one.”

Wind shuffles the trees. Somewhere birds chirp. But Zecky doesn’t respond.

“We can assemble a team, like they did before,” I add.

Zecky still doesn’t respond. I face him.

“And in exchange?” he asks.

“Working on the new Sphere isn’t glory enough for you?”

“Glory doesn’t ease hunger pangs.”

“Name your price.”

Zecky walks up the church stairs and strolls along the promenade beside a lush green courtyard. “I want a House.”

“You’re making your own houses, I’ve heard.”

Zecky scoffs. “Willam and his friends are idealists. I’m a realist. I want an ancestral House. Something with roots. Something proven. I hear one could be available. That someone close to you might be willing to abandon their post.”

House of Marionne. His words slice like a knife between my ribs.

He could never. Unless Quell wanted to. But Zecky didn’t have to know that. “Get this magic out of me without any issues, and all things are on the table.”

“You should follow me.” He quickens his pace, and I hustle to keep up.

But as I disappear down the steps, I spot a familiar face patrolling the fountain, the same I thought I saw at the airport, that guy who used to hang around Abby. Mynick. I hurry behind Zecky.

Deep underground below Bay Hill Church is a maze of stone hallways.

The church is actually a hollowed-out locked building concealing a safe house beneath.

Zecky guides me through a main room with two ornate doors on either side.

We enter the northernmost one, which opens up to winding, dimly lit halls.

The air has a biting chill, so cold it causes the toushana inside me to stir.

Wailing groans behind each door we pass send bumps up my arms.

“This side is a healing clinic. We’re used by every safe house in a thousand-mile radius. Churches get traffic all the time. It’s a good cover. The southern entrance is where we’ve made our home.”

“You don’t sound very mobile. That’s a risk.”

“We’re nimbler than you think. Evading the brotherhood has become much easier thanks to you.” He smiles, and I feel sick. “I’ve collected some of the ripest, most lethal minds in magic you’ll ever meet. Who should we fear, Mr. Wexton? You, our newest patient?”

When we stop at a small room with an examination table, toushana lurches in my chest. My feet are frozen. In a new Order, labs like this wouldn’t have to be underground.

“Inside, please.”

“Shouldn’t we assemble an engineering team first for the new vessel?”

“Constructing the Sphere took my ancestor nearly a year. First, I need to have you thoroughly examined by an expert Retentor and Cultivator to ensure we can get the magic out of you without damaging it.”

My heart thuds, the cold inside my bones pricking me like needles urging me to run.

“I assure you there’s nothing to fear. I am not a man of brute magical strength. You could level this entire building in seconds. If anything, bringing you here is more of a risk to me than to you. I’m just a Healer who takes advantage of opportunities as he comes across them.”

I note the nearest exits, Zecky’s relaxed posture, his steady breath.

He gestures again for me to go inside.

With clenched fists, I do.

“I’ll need to pull Erla and Ube for this. They’re my best brains. And then there’s the matter of the vessel. We’ll have to find the right thing. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll be right back.” He closes the door, bolting it shut with a clang, and the sound ricochets in my chest.

I imagine Quell’s face when I bring her this temporary vessel, the strength I’ll feel having this chaos out of me. Maybe Zecky could come for another visit and explain how it works to her. Maybe he has ideas about how to free families like his and Willam’s while stopping the carnage of Darkbearers.

Zecky returns with a spindly fellow in a blue tunic and leather slacks.

His petite shoulders and small frame make him look younger than he is.

White stubble covers his jaw on his otherwise bald head.

A slick black mask slopes across the top half of his face, fading into his tanned skin as he enters.

He slips on glasses. Behind him is a woman who looks a lot like him.

Her blond hair is cut in a low fade. She wears deep green pants and a jacket to match.

A gold diadem sits on her head, and jeweled earrings in the same hue dangle from her ears.

She holds a gold diadem with colorful stones in her hands.

A diadem not connected to anyone’s head.

An icy feeling—that is not magic—seizes in my bones.

“Erla and Ube are siblings,” he says. “And this—”

A wide-hipped, dark-haired woman in red robes boasting a magnificent silver, jeweled diadem enters the room. “Is Runetta Bell,” Zecky goes on. “She was dropping off a few things, heard you were here, and says you know each other?”

She gives me a hard look. I’ve never seen this woman before.

“Yes, we have been friends a long time.” She hugs me as Zecky is pulled into a whispered argument between Ube and Erla. “Auspicious meeting you here,” she says under her breath. “I’d heard you were looking for a lady a few weeks ago.”

“I don’t think that was me.”

“Oh, it was you, Dragunheart. In the Sixth Ward.”

“Lady Ruby?” The Trader I was looking for.

“In the flesh.”

The world teeters on its edge. How vastly my circle has changed in months. A fugitive, partnering with the most sought-after names in the Order. I’m not sure if I should be honored or disgusted.

“The girl in the alley.”

“There wasn’t enough of her left to bury.” Lady Ruby’s mouth thins. “I overheard your exchange. When Darkbearers attacked, I had to flee. The cargo I carry is precious.” She gestures to the diadem.

“You brought them that?”

“Some safe houses pay well for magical artifacts.” Her fingers circle her chin. “You know, I tried tracking you once I realized the rumors about you are true, to offer my help. You’re incredibly hard to find. And I find things for a living.”

“I think we’ve sorted out their confusion,” Zecky says, forcing his way between us. “We can get started.”

Lady Ruby smiles. But worry deadens her eyes.

“If you’ll excuse us, Runetta,” Zecky says.

“I assume you’ve said your hellos.” She is practically forced out the door by Ube.

Erla wipes a cloth over the multicolored stones in the diadem at a back counter with shaky hands.

I’m sure working on magic under these circumstances is an intimidating task, but her nerves set mine on edge.

“Lie down here, please,” Ube says. Erla backs away from the counter and stands against the wall, rigid.

“Erla, make yourself useful or leave,” Zecky orders, and she barrels out the door. I stand beside the table he’s asked me to lie down on.

“We need to see how the magic in your body is moving,” Ube says.

“Zecky’s seen all that.”

“We need a fresh picture since the recent healing. It should only take a minute.”

“Ube, check on your sister,” Zecky commands, inspecting the diadem before setting it back on the counter. “I’ll help him relax.”

When the door closes, I climb onto the exam table and lie flat on my back. Cold thrashes inside me. This is a mistake.

I try to sit up.

But I can’t move.