Page 56 of Fortress of Ambrose (House of Marionne #3)

Forty-Five

Yagrin

Nore’s expression when she’d left the coronation reception that morning haunted Yagrin. He splashed water on his face. He took a long bath. Then he did a long run around the estate in the frigid cold and came back for a hot bath again. Nothing helped.

So instead of eating lunch, he came back to his room to read up on House of Duncan.

But he was accosted with memories from Begonia Terrace, Nore’s body collapsing, the horrors that ran through his mind as he rushed to her to search for a pulse, the deadly fury in her brother’s eyes as he shoved her heart in the box hoping it would kill her.

He closed the only book he’d found in the library on Duncan.

Had Yagrin gone mad? He was definitely madly in love with her.

And she was madly in love with him, too.

But the ire in her expression when she left him on the dance floor felt like a dagger in his chest. She doesn’t mean any of the things she’s saying.

She can’t. When they danced, he could feel the way she clung to him, the way she curled toward his touch, the way she trusted him.

Something deep down inside her remembers how it feels.

He held his chest, imagining he could still feel her, smell her.

He wished he would have learned her secret sooner.

He would have whisked her away from this horrid Order.

They could have run, hid, disguised themselves.

It wouldn’t matter as long as he had her by his side.

But now here he was living in an ancestral House just to be near her.

Maybe their love was strong enough to break the curse of the Pact.

He had to make her remember the feeling. To free them both.

He hungered for sight of her. When the clock above the hearth struck seven, he slipped into the halls toward the dining hall, ignoring the inquisitive eyes and studious stares.

Yagrin walked with his head down out of his guest quarters building and into the main building, where the dead waited.

He couldn’t see them very well, but he had grown used to the oddly placed darkness, which hovered along the hallways, and the sudden chill in the air. He knew they were there.

As he rounded on the family’s private dining room, he spotted Nore’s maid.

“Evening,” she said, her arms full of fresh linens.

“Is she in there?” His thumb jabbed backward toward the room ringing with the ting of dishes behind them.

“Not yet. She may be exhausted, honestly. Coronation day and night are quite busy.”

Night? “I’m sorry, what?” He leaned in to hear her better.

“It is nothing personal, Mr. Wexton. I know the Headmistress is fond of you, despite what she says.”

That sent a rush of heat through him. But her words tangled his thoughts in a knot. What did she have going on coronation night, and why would he take it personally?

“I am Ainsley, by the way.” She stuck out a hand, and they shook. “I know the guest quarters are not quite what you’re used to. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask for me.”

Her hospitality caught him off guard. “Nore likes a thin pillow, by the way. If they’re too thick, she gets pain.” He touched his upper back. “Right here.”

“Comfort isn’t one of our pillars of value, Mr. Wexton. Also, Headmistress hasn’t mentioned that. I’m sure she’s managing just fine.”

He was about to ask if they had masseuses on staff, but he swallowed the question. He’d almost forgotten who he was talking to. He’d check on her when he saw her at dinner.

“Would you at least notify me if she’s ever restless at night?”

“Tonight I cannot. But I can ask about it for future.” Ainsley curtsied and left before he could thank her. He sauntered into the dining room and filled his plate, waiting for Nore to arrive. Isla was sitting at the far end of the table.

“You haven’t returned to Hartsboro.” She slipped a bite of meat into her mouth.

He wouldn’t be leaving Dlaminaugh unless Nore made him. “No, not yet.” But he wasn’t sure what Isla’s relationship with his aunt was like, so for now his business would be his own.

“How is your family doing with everything happening in the world?”

“I am not sure.”

“I’ve heard about the Sphere.”

“And you’re mentioning it to me because?”

“Well, your brother is at the center of those rumors.”

He straightened in his seat. “I despise games. If you have a question, ask it.”

She set down her teacup. “I apologize if I’ve offended you.”

Yagrin’s fork froze on the way to his mouth.

She let out a long exhale. “I’m still relearning social graces.

It’s been so long. Love is the first emotion to go.

” Her gaze moved beyond him. “Then it’s guilt and shame.

Sadness is a funny one. It would come intermittently, but it would never fully go away.

” She dabbed her mouth with a napkin and stood.

“I only meant to say that I hope your brother is doing okay. If he’s anything like you, I will hold him up in prayer. ”

Yagrin wasn’t breathing.

“You have been very good to my daughter when many were not. Myself included. I may never earn her trust again. But from what I’ve seen in the last few days, if she has you by her side, she’ll be alright.”

Words stuck in his throat. After staring blankly, he managed to say, “How do you know how I feel—”

“When you go without love for so long and then suddenly you can feel it again, you never mistake what it does and does not look like. It’s in the way you look out for her.” She tapped her ear and pointed to the hall where he and Ainsley were just speaking. “If you’ll excuse me.”

Yagrin watched her go, speechless. He finished the rest of his food in silence, ruminating over her mother’s words. When he finished, Nore still hadn’t showed. Now he was worried. But he stewed his anxiety by reading in the Caelum for one hour. Then another.

By midnight, his thoughts of Nore led him inside the main building.

The halls were far from silent, students wandering to and fro with arms full of books.

He wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but something in him was unsettled.

When he spotted a girl with luscious red hair curled up in a lounge chair over a pile of leather books, he had to look twice to be sure it wasn’t her.

He wandered near Nore’s quarters and spotted Draguns outside her door.

They staggered their stance as he passed. And that stopped him in his tracks.

“Mr. Wexton? What are you doing out of bed so late?” Ainsley appeared behind him, holding a flat pillow.

“Why are there Draguns outside her room?”

“Just Headmistress business.”

Shouting voices behind the doors rattled his pulse. He marched up to them, despite Ainsley’s lightning-fast grip on his arm.

“Open the doors.”

“You know we can’t do that,” one of the Draguns said. Yagrin thought he might recognize him.

“Mr. Wexton, please. If Headmistress catches me disobeying a direct order, I’ll be in such trouble.”

“I will ask once more,” Yagrin said.

“I don’t open the door unless—” the Dragun started.

Something crashed inside Nore’s bedroom, shattering, and it sent ice skidding up his spine.

Yagrin summoned toushana, and streams of cold answered in a sputter.

His hands filled with weak shadows. He focused on the icy feeling to grow the dark magic, but it didn’t swell.

The Draguns reached for their magic as well, but their hands came up empty.

Yagrin took the second of distraction and shoved his fist up the nose of one and whipped his elbow against the head of the other.

Then he shoved his way inside. Blood drained from his body at what he found.

Nore stood over her bed with a lamp base heaved over her shoulder.

“If we could just try—” some fellow in her bed, wearing only heart-dotted underwear, was saying, pulling at her wrist.

As she swung the lamp base at him, he ducked, scrambling out of the covers, eyes wide.

“Get out!” she screamed.

“No!” the intruder yelled back.

Yagrin noticed some kind of rope in his hands. Questions flooded Yagrin, but his body was well ahead of his mind. He dashed over and shoved the fellow to the ground before climbing on top of him. Yagrin slammed his fist into his face. He groaned.

“Did he hurt you?” he asked, hopping up.

Nore brought the lamp base down again. This time it struck the fellow’s head, and the metal shaft snapped in half. He howled in pain. She snatched the rope from him.

“Headmistress, can we help?” Draguns rushed inside, one holding a pillow. Ainsley was gone.

“Stand back,” Nore shouted as she tied the fellow’s wrists together with the precision of a sailor before tugging it tight. Then she lugged him to the door.

“You will drag him through the halls like this all day. If anyone wants to control when and how I make an heir for this House, this is a kindness compared to what I will do to them.”

“Yes, Headmistress,” the Dragun gushed. “We are so sorry. The oath—”

“I don’t care about your oaths. I don’t care about your traditions. This is now my House!” She slammed the door in all their faces. Yagrin was breathless. She was furious, but fully clothed, thank goodness.

“Did he touch you?”

“You think he’d be alive if he touched me?” She lifted the sleeve of her nightgown. “I nicked my arm on the broken lamp.” She held it out to him.

Yagrin ran his hands along her soft, smooth, and unmarred skin.

“I tried to be nice, offering him tea to sit down and talk through whatever this tradition is. He genuinely seemed confused. But instead of taking the cup, he grabbed me by the wrist.” She huffed. “So I whacked him, good.”

“Uh, yeah. I doubt he’ll ever be signing up for anything like that again.”

Her frustration melted into a guffaw. It took about an hour for their conversation to move on and Nore to settle from the stressors of the day.

When she did, Yagrin was sitting in a chair by her fire, holding a picture of Nore as a baby and her brother sitting on her mother’s hip.

After a shower, she sat beside him on the floor.

“Thank you for checking on me, I’m not sure I said that.”

He waved the words away.

“I mean it.” She stretched her neck, holding her shoulder. Yagrin had long noticed the lack of any pillows on her bed. She was in pain. Red always had neck pain if she didn’t sleep just so. Now he knew why.

“May I?”

Her gray eyes said yes. She didn’t answer, but she moved in front of him, sitting beside his toes, her back pressed against his shins. He gathered the long locks of her hair and moved them aside, exposing her bare shoulder. He bit his bottom lip to try to stop thinking about kissing her there.

As he moved his hands over the muscle between her shoulder blades, she arced backward, lengthening her neck.

He studied the new lines of the face of the girl he loved.

He’d known Red’s every dip, blemish, and curve.

And he adored each one of them. But Nore’s lips were shaped a bit differently.

Full and pink. And soft. So very soft. Goodness, she is beautiful.

He closed his eyes as he kneaded her muscles, and the moment he’d let himself kiss her at House of Oralia flooded his senses.

Desire burned in him, but he focused on getting the hard knot out of her back.

He dug his knuckle deeper, and she moaned in relief.

“There.” She straightened against him, pressing against his firm touch. He worked the heel of his hand harder, up and down in a smooth motion, deeper with each movement.

When he finished, her fingers found his. She cupped his hand and turned to face him.

“I don’t know if I can do this.” Her stare burned with fear. “Being Headmistress.”

“You can do anything. But do you want it?”

“I don’t have a choice.”

Yagrin laced his fingers between hers, and she let him. “We will make you a choice.”

“You cannot fix this. I’m bound by a Pact. They have my heart.” She shook her head. “There’s no way out. There’s no way for us. For this.” She laid her head on his lap, and he raked his fingers through her hair, drawing circles on the crown of her head the way she liked.

“It’s okay to be terrified. It’s okay to not have the answers. I was made a Dragun and never wanted any of it. My future was decided for me before I was even born. It’s okay to not like that. And resist it.”

Her lashes batted as she looked up at him, listening. She was really listening. Not thinking of ways to get rid of him or mean things to say to push him away. He could see the girl he loved in those eyes.

“You are a fire that will not be extinguished,” he said.

“Fire needs air. I can’t breathe here.”

“Then let’s break you out of this cage. Maybe there’s a way out of the curse.”

“Somewhere under my mother’s thick skin is love for me.

I see it when she looks at me now. And I loathe it.

It’s too late. But it made me realize that if she couldn’t find love for her daughter because of the Pact and she damaged me the way she did, how is there hope for us? I don’t have hope, Yagrin.”

“You don’t need hope. I have enough hope for the both of us. You just need trust.”

She sighed and tried to look away. But he gently pulled her by the jaw back around to face him. “I know you like no one knows you.”

She blushed.

He smiled as he let his fingers trail her neck. His throat went dry. “I meant I know you have what it takes to beat this. I will fight for you to remember every day.”

She kissed each one of his fingertips. Somewhere behind those steel eyes, the girl he loved was still in there.

“Let me help you remember.”

“Please.” She slipped her shoulder out of her gown. “I want to remember it all.”