Page 44 of Fortress of Ambrose (House of Marionne #3)

Thirty-Seven

Ellery

The slow drip of rainwater outside worked Ellery’s nerves. His plan to force his sister’s death by handing her heart to the ancestors had failed. They accepted the seed of poison in her as payment for the Pact.

He burned with irritation that he hadn’t considered that possibility. The toushana was so immature, it hadn’t even grown. He didn’t expect it to be enough to satiate the ancestors’ desires. But toushana was a powerful magic with massively destructive potential.

Even the dead coveted it.

The cut he’d somehow gotten on his arm during the scuffle with his sister stung.

He rubbed more salve onto it, watching the Dragunhead—Sal was his name, but he preferred to be called by his role—tear off morsels of a loaf of stale bread and feed it to a crow in a wiry cage.

He hummed a melody, and it made Ellery want to glue the man’s lips shut. How dare he be so chipper?

Outside lit up with howls, scratches, and all manner of sounds once the sun set, and Ellery’s mind was restless.

The Dragunhead’s cabin was a forgotten pile of wood in the middle of nowhere.

There wasn’t a city for hours. He wanted to pace, but the tight quarters were too small.

There was one tidy bed, made up perfectly in the corner beside a few pieces of countertop.

When Ellery slept here, they took turns, resting one at a time.

Two armchairs were wrapped in blankets between dusty shelves.

Books were wedged on the shelves in any angle they’d fit, squeezed on top, beside, and flattened open.

The place was cramped. Its musty smell was what he hated most. He loathed coming here.

But his sister was insulated by the ancestors now.

He had nowhere else to go.

They weren’t honorable creatures, but they demanded loyalty to their agreements.

He’d angered them by telling them that Isla was ill and Nore planned to outrun the Pact.

So they followed her. He deepened their trust of him by offering them an ancient magic that only required a vial of Nore’s blood to help them cross thresholds where she was.

They were eager to keep a close eye on her.

It took Ellery weeks to learn the ancient magic.

And more weeks spreading word of a reward for a vial of her blood.

He was stunned when after several unsuccessful attacks it was someone posing as a hotel maid who brought sheets Nore’d slept on stained with blood.

When he got the call from Litze Oralia that Nore showed up at Begonia Terrace, he had them come along to put the final piece of his plan into motion. They were so close. But his oversight had pulled the rug from under him.

Sal side-eyed him now. He knew all kinds of things about magic Ellery had never learned before.

That was part of why he was willing to work with him.

He’d shown him a magic to replace Nore’s heart in the box while keeping his mother’s intact.

That was when he thought his mother could be swayed to help him.

He scoffed. Should have just let the old hag croak.

The Dragunhead whistled now, twisting the lock on the bird’s cage before settling into one of his armchairs.

He pulled a wooden dragon out of a basket, along with a stubby carving knife.

He worked the edge of the blade along the dragon’s head, wood shavings curling up and off it.

In truth, Ellery hadn’t expected things to get this out of hand.

He loved his sister, and he wanted to free her.

But she had to trust him. Now that she was Headmistress, he had to kill her outright and hope Headship would still move to him.

Usually when a parent was killed, Headship moved to one of the children—a daughter if available.

If not, the son. It didn’t move between siblings, he thought.

But the Dragunhead insisted he not worry about that detail.

That all magic is manipulable with the right skills.

“You’re quiet tonight,” Sal said.

Ellery bit back the first retort that came to him and grunted instead.

“A disappointing night for you, I know.” The Dragunhead blew dust off the wooden figurine before continuing to work on one of its claws, tilting the blade back and forth quickly over the same spot to bring the wood to a sharp point.

“It is unfortunate to hear the Mynick boy died. He could have proven very useful.”

Ellery had no one else in his corner. Bitterness wasn’t prudent. “Do you have meetings tonight?” he asked, to hopefully change the subject.

“I thought after an eventful day like we’ve had, a quiet evening to think would be nice. It is going to rain. You like the rain, don’t you, Ell?”

“Sure.”

“It’s good for thinking.”

“And what are you thinking about, pray tell?” Quell. Jordan. That’s all he talks about these days. “They fled to Chateau Soleil. We can’t get into that estate easily, my sources say.”

The Dragunhead’s brows rose quizzically.

“I still have a few connections,” Ellery said. “I’m well liked, believe it or not.”

“Of course I believe it.”

Ellery’s chin rose.

“Do you know anything about Quell’s acquaintances?”

“Maybe. She has a friend who dated Mynick, I think.”

“Write them down, would you? Any and all, please.” The Dragunhead tossed Ellery a pen and paper.

“Sure.” Ellery tensed, writing down a few names he’d heard who knew the Marionne girl.

The Dragunhead took the paper and tore each name into its own slip.

Then he placed each one into a separate jar and set it on his highest shelf.

Some of the things he did were very strange, but Ellery had learned a long time ago not to question him.

With his seasoned experience, his depth of understanding of magic was extraordinary.

“And what about House of Perl, what sources do you have there?”

Ellery’s heart ticked faster. “Why?”

The Dragunhead smiled.

“I don’t know who I know that’s still there. But I can look into it. Anything else?” Ellery stewed. He sure was doing a lot. What was he getting out of this partnership? Besides magic advice here and there.

“I can tell your mind is going. Careful to avoid acting on assumption. This was not the big failure you think it is. Timing is everything. I had to be sure the magic could live in a Marked body and that proper magic could be removed. The girl is very important, too.”

Ellery grumbled. “I want to hear more about your plan to get rid of Nore. How are we going to get to her with the ancestors determined to keep her obedient to the Pact? Where do we even start looking for the Duncan piece of the Scroll?”

Ellery intended to lead his House through this chaos of the Sphere breaking.

Ambrose could chart that course like no one else.

But how could they focus on stretching their intellect when their Head had no magic at all?

His sister was really clever, but that wasn’t the same as knowing how to do things magically.

He ground his jaw every time he thought of it.

He was the natural choice. But as a child he’d always been overlooked by his mother and ignored by his father, who was focused on trying again for an heir.

He’d proven himself eventually. But he was done doing that.

He would take what he wanted.

“Don’t worry about the Duncan piece of the Scroll. That was never the best use of anyone’s time. I told you that before. Now you believe me?”

“I guess so.”

“I have a better plan. Trust that I have my hand in many places.” The Dragunhead set a hand on Ellery’s shoulder. “Saving the world is not for the impatient. Are you still up to the task?”

“I am,” Ellery said between gritted teeth. He didn’t care about the world unless it threatened to rip magic away from him. That was the only reason he was willing to put any energy into the Dragunhead’s plans for Jordan and Quell.

“On second thought, the rain is slacking, and the soil will be nice and soft.” The Dragunhead set down the wooden animal and tossed Ellery a shovel.

Ellery balled his fists, but he followed him out the door.