Page 39 of Fortress of Ambrose (House of Marionne #3)

Thirty-Two

Quell

I stand unmoving, worried I’m gaping at some kind of dream.

Or magic trickery. I blink harder, but the scene doesn’t change.

My mother—or an illusion of her—stands ten strides away from me in a dark blue dress tied at her back, with her hair pulled into a low bun.

I saw her bones amid her shredded things, with my own eyes.

The wind picks up but sweat still beads on the back of my neck.

Is this real?

My mother sets down her woven basket. She tents her gaze with a hand, staring in my direction. Then she hikes up her skirt and gallops toward me.

“Quell!”

When my mother slams into me, I shake, a deep sadness unraveling in my bones.

This can’t be real. But I don’t move, not willing to shift an inch and risk shattering this dream.

Words claw their way up my throat and gush down my face as tears.

I wipe my eyes, noticing the way she rubs circles on my back just like she used to.

The way she embraces my head, holding it tightly against hers.

The familiar gray of her hair, the worn lines of her face, her chewed-off nails, the mole beside her right ear.

She even smells like she used to. Like flowers after a fresh rain.

Like hope and resilience, and everything in me that’s good.

This is my mother. I’m hugging my mother.

“It’s me, baby. It’s me.” She holds me. Her voice is soft, her love tender. But I am a rock in her hug, arms stiff at my sides. Hope scrapes at my ribs, stabbing at the organ thumping in my chest. I tighten my fists. I’ve seen this trick before. I’ve fallen for this lie.

“Raquell, look at me.” She presses her forehead to mine.

“I am your mother. I carried you thirty-nine weeks and two days. You came into this world feet first and screaming. I had you at Chateau Soleil with the best attending Healers in the Order. We left there just before your sixth birthday. We visited places but eventually settled on our own.”

I pull away from her, but she doesn’t let go of my hand. “My mother’s dead.”

“When we lived in California, there was a lemon tree in our front yard. On your way to school you would look for the sourest one to gift to Ms. Newman, your—”

“Science teacher.” Tears cascade down my face.

“Yes, because she was not very nice, and so you thought it would be funny. You’ve always shaken things up.”

“Mom?” My body tremors.

“Yes, baby.”

“I saw—” But the images that come to mind steal the words I managed to find. I can’t speak the horrors out loud.

“Your grandmother saved me. And brought me here. I can explain everything.”

A tidal wave of emotions knocks my knees from under me as I collapse into her arms. I melt into her. If this is a dream, I never want to wake up. She strokes my hair, and I realize she is touching my diadem, which must have slipped out without me noticing.

“You are so beautiful,” she says, admiring its gems. The knot I’ve been since we parted ways feels like it might finally come undone.

“Mom.” I hug her tighter. We stand there until she coaxes me inside the small house behind her.

My mother’s living quarters are cozy but comfortable.

The window in her sitting room overlooks the ocean in the distance.

“What is this place?”

“This is my legacy. This is Nova Misa.”

“There are hundreds here that your grandmother has hidden over the decades. Most are gifted with toushana, which of course is a death sentence out there.”

Her words jumble in my head. “My grandmother poisoned them with toushana. And then killed them.”

Her nose crinkles. “Is that what she told you? She is not a perfect woman. But she covered her mistakes with honor, not murder.”

A cover story. That was her cover all those years. “She took the blame.”

“My mother was not concerned with how others saw her. She didn’t mind playing the monster because she knew who she was inside and what she was doing.

That was her hope for you, and where she went wrong with me.

She wanted you to know yourself fully. And love that person.

” My mother squeezes my hand. “I am so sorry, Quell, for not coming to find you. But when Darragh rescued me from that wolf lair at Hartsboro, she risked everything. I hated her before that moment. I didn’t trust her. ”

“Why? You never told me.”

“I don’t trust the Order. Growing up, all I knew was that my mother wanted me to follow in her shoes.

Sometimes, Quell, people wear masks for so long, they forget where the truth ends and the lie begins.

She had toushana. And she watched her little sister, Moriette, be turned over to Draguns for it.

A six-year-old little girl, sent off to die by her own mother. ”

I recall the statue in the garden at Chateau Soleil, an ode to her grief. Grief is an odd thing; people deal with it their own way.

“Her saving me after I ran from her my entire motherhood told me how much I meant to her. She knew she was dying and was making preparations. She told me that she built a legacy she wanted me to carry on and that it wasn’t until I left Chateau Soleil with you that she realized I was the one who could run this place for her.

Since my name wasn’t in our House’s Book of Names, the induction log for our House—because back then I took classes but refused to formally induct—Headship couldn’t pass to me.

And my name wasn’t on the Sphere either, since I didn’t finish Third Rite.

It’s like I wasn’t an Order member at all.

I am practically untraceable. But the ways she had to bend toushana to keep doing that took an even greater toll on her magic and her health.

It destroyed her from the inside out. She wanted to use whatever life she had left to fix things with me.

And make sure both of us could walk in our legacy.

She told me the best thing for you was to teach you to trust yourself instead of deny yourself.

I’d done a horrible job at that, living on the run.

Not letting you experiment with your magic and get to know who you are.

“When I was little, your grandmother never appreciated me either. My magic wasn’t dark, but it wasn’t as impressive as hers.

And she thought impressive magic was the key to my safety.

So she pressured me to be great. And I despised her for it.

And every chance I got, I ran.” Something shades her expression.

“But I always came back. I love my mother. Every daughter does, even when we don’t want to.

But when you were born and I realized you were different, I wasn’t willing to allow her to put that pressure on you.

I didn’t know if she’d follow the rules and report you to the Draguns.

I didn’t know where the perfect Headmistress mask ended, and I wasn’t willing to find out.

So we left, Quell. And I raised you to forget every part of you that is special. I am so sorry for that. Deeply.”

I fidget with my clothes.

“She told me that you bound with your toushana. At first I panicked. I was scared that you weren’t strong or capable enough to figure out how to survive. Then I realized: choosing to bind with your dark magic tells me everything I need to know about my daughter.”

Fresh tears prick my eyes.

“You didn’t need me to protect you. Your grandmother was right. You needed me to set you free.” She looks at my diadem again and allows silence to join us.

“Should I get us tea?” she finally asks.

“Sure.”

As hard as it is to face her words, they suture me back together. I wouldn’t have found my own footing with her. The trouble I went through pushed me to discover who I was. Who I am.

When my mother returns with hot cups, I sort through the memories of the harsh grandmother I knew. The mother who left me to fend for myself, burying herself in a lie. And I hold the cup so tightly, my skin burns against the porcelain.

“You let me believe a lie while you live here, hiding.”

“A sacrifice. Your grandmother wanted to work on getting the Immortality Scroll for you, if worse came to worst, so she needed me here. The girls here were not born with the privilege of our name. This is the only safe place for them, until the world out there changes.” She takes my cup from me and holds both of my hands. “Again, I’m so sorry.”

My mother pours another cup of tea. It wouldn’t be what I would have chosen, but I understand it. We drink and chat about the silliest things for the longest while. I tell her about how much I love dancing. How much I love Jordan. And somehow I admit we’ve kissed. That part is embarrassing.

Then the conversation shifts to where I’ve been and how I’ve been.

And what I am doing here now. I update her on everything about my time at Hartsboro, the battle at the Sphere, teaming up with Nore and Yagrin to find the Scroll, Darkbearers after Jordan, and retreating to the Chateau with Willam’s safe house family, talking until my mouth is dry.

She doesn’t interrupt. At one point she clutches her chest.

She takes a sip before setting her tea down. “You mentioned Darkbearers are after Jordan. It sounds to me like the Dragunhead is looking for you.”

“What makes you say that?”

“He sent a letter to your grandmother before she died, for me, looking for you, while you were at Hartsboro, I suppose. Dexler recovered it. Do you have any idea what he would want with you?”

“None.”

“You are strong, daughter. Bound to toushana with a heart for people. He wants the power that lives in you, I bet.”

“Well, he won’t have it.”

“The Dragunhead is dangerous, Quell. When we fled Chateau Soleil that first night, I thought we’d sleep in a Tavern, that somewhere magical would be safer.

But when I snuck into a warehouse back room, the Dragunhead was there.

As if he’d been waiting for me. At first, I thought your grandmother had sent him to arrest me for kidnapping you or something ridiculous.

” She hugs around herself. “I tried to leave, but he forced me to sleep there while he watched. When I woke he was gone. Your grandmother also told me that he made not one but two visits to House of Marionne over the years while we were gone. You must stay far away from him.”

A breath of silence passes between us. Another who wants to use me.

“You are welcome to stay here. Jordan could come, too. But my legacy is here; yours is out there. You have the choice what it will be. It’s your life.”

Toushana curls in my chest, comforting me.

“I could never repay—”

My mother’s finger touches my lips. “Hush that foolishness.” Her love radiates through me, and I’m warm all over. She has sacrificed so much for me, living her life on the run and now serving here. My grandmother, too. But there is no regret in her, only relief.

Perhaps sacrificing for the person you love isn’t a burden.

Perhaps it’s a choice.

And everyone should be free to make their own choices.

The way my grandmother and mother chose me. They sacrificed to give me the power to make my own choices. To choose myself and fight for who I want to be.

What do I want?

With so many clamoring to use me, it’s time to make decisions. And own them.

“What do you choose, darling?”

The weight of the world is on my shoulders, so many people’s expectations. Save the magical world. Repair the ancestral House. Bring justice. Broker peace. My legacy will be mine because that is freedom.

“I choose love.”

I choose Jordan.