Page 59 of Fortress of Ambrose (House of Marionne #3)

Forty-Eight

Nore

Nore’s covers still smelled like Yagrin. It had been a couple of days since they’d rolled around in her bed before she forced him to leave, after coronation. The next morning, she couldn’t bear to leave her room, still in pieces. Her absence was ruffling feathers, though.

Three families had dropped out of pursuing Rites.

One of their largest donors sent a strongly worded letter to Nore.

It still lay open on her desk. Priest Kimper requested a meeting with her, which she refused.

Her mother had come to her door, but left when Nore didn’t answer.

Nore also noticed the dead hovering outside her window more than once.

She couldn’t hide out in her room anymore.

She had to lead the House. Or at least pretend to.

Ainsley busied herself around Nore’s room, tidying and preparing her clothes for dinner. The maid hadn’t said much or even looked at her since the incident.

“Is this gray off-the-shoulder dress more to your liking?” Ainsley asked, dangling a ratty dress whose only saving grace was the interesting neckline.

“Sure.”

“I’ll find something better, Headmistress.”

Nore rose from her bed and joined Ainsley at her closet. She closed her hand around Ainsley’s as she struggled to pull the dress strap onto the silk hanger. “Are you alright?”

“Yes.” Her maid didn’t elaborate, tucking her chin down and shoving the dress in the closet to pull another.

“Look at me,” Nore said.

Ainsley obeyed with tearstained cheeks.

“Ainsley?”

“I am so sorry. I can’t believe you didn’t know! The former Headmistress usually goes over these things. You should have been given a rundown of his qualifications beforehand. I don’t see you and your mother talking much.” She sighed. “I should have asked to be sure.”

“You have nothing to be sorry about.”

“You cannot be all you are required to be if I am not supporting you perfectly.” This House’s obsession with superiority bled into one with perfection.

And it made Nore want to claw her eyes out.

Ainsley tsked, noticing a slight snag in the seam on the next gown she pulled.

The maid worked magic between her fingers, smoothing her thumb over the thread.

It wriggled free from the dress, and the hole in the garment widened. Ainsley groaned, trying again.

Nore snatched the dress from her hands and tore it as best she could. The rip in the air sent a thrill through her bones.

Ainsley gasped. “Headmistress, that is one-hundred-year-old linen.”

“I don’t care.” She asked Ainsley to sit in the chair by the fire and pulled up a seat to sit beside her. “It is not your fault that I didn’t know. My mother tried to warn me, I suspect. Anyway, if it is anyone’s fault that I didn’t know, it was mine.”

Nore could see the shrug of disbelief in Ainsley’s shoulders, her gaze stuck to the torn dress on the ground. It mattered too much to her. It all mattered too much to them. House of Ambrose was a prison. And she was its warden!

She grabbed a dress from her closet and held it to herself. “I think this is quite nice. Did you pull this one?”

“I did. From a few Seasons ago in your mother’s old things.”

“You have such a good eye for fashion, Ainsley. This is perfect.” In truth, the dress was just as drab as the next.

But Nore didn’t care. Before she was Headmistress, the fashions in her House never bothered her.

But now that she was trapped, every dot of monotonous gray was another form of restraint, a reminder her life had been drained of color and she had no say.

But the sparkle in Ainsley’s eyes now as she readied the dress for dinner that evening made up for the dress’s lack of shiny beading.

Ainsley smiled to herself as she crossed the room to change the sheets.

“Leave them another night, please.”

When Nore finally emerged from her room, she found Priest Winkel combing his bushy eyebrows as he waited outside for her.

“Winkel, I could have met you in the dining room. You must be tired, standing all that time.”

“Oh, I am much more fit than I look, Miss Ambrose.” He stuck out his arm, and she hooked her hand onto it.

“I also…” he said under his breath as they walked.

Here it is. A chastising about how I’m not doing a good job. It was actually shocking she hadn’t gotten one from her mother yet.

“Before we are in the company of so many, I wanted to just check in with you. There are concerns swarming.”

“Because I had my chosen suitor put on display in his underwear?”

“The research and interviews revealed that Vincent is a cooperative and natural leader in all his athletics at his traditional school. His maezres here spoke most highly of his character when we did our research. He presented like a bright, compassionate young fellow. What did you not find suitable?”

“I had no idea of this tradition. My mother never told me. I asked him to leave. But he refused to leave my room, climbing into my bed practically naked, insisting I make an heir with him!”

Winkel froze, gaping. “Your predecessors have been unwavering in their commitment to employ logic to make the best heir. These things are usually celebratory and certainly consensual. The boy may have been confused, but disregarding your unpreparedness and ignoring a direct order from his Headmistress to leave is inexcusable. A few more days of punishment seem in order. I truly apologize. The priesthood take heir matters very seriously. We try to make the best selection possible.”

“Did you decide for my mother?” Nore wasn’t sure where the question came from. She’d never known her father. She’d never even heard a whisper of his name.

“We did.”

A follow-up question stuck in her throat, but she pivoted. “Had I done what you all recommended, what would have happened to Vincent after?”

“Sometimes they’re offered a position at the House. Marriage is an option, but historically only two Headmistresses have chosen that path.” He patted her hand affectionately. “Most often, they leave and live a life well provided for away from here.”

“What will happen to him since I’ve refused?”

“He technically broke an oath. So he will be dismissed from the House once the investigation is done. Because of the unique circumstances, we are looking into an ancient magic that takes the edge of memories away. Beaulah Perl has offered to help us with things of that nature in the past. Your mother always refused her help. But—”

“And I do, too. We do not deal with Beaulah Perl. Period.” She’d learned enough from Yagrin to know that woman could not be trusted. A monster. And with Adola’s standoffish encounter weeks ago, she didn’t trust them at all.

“The other priests and I thought…” Winkel studied her expression. “As you say, it will be, Headmistress.”

“I should be consulted on these things.”

“Yes, of course. We just wanted to give you time to settle in.”

“I am settled.”

As the dining room came into view up ahead, he leaned into her ear. “There must be the promise of an heir, Nore. And soon.”

“My mother didn’t have me until well into her forties. Why am I being rushed? Coronation in our House does not happen until age twenty-two, except in extreme cases. Like mine.” She thought of her brother, and a chill ran down her spine.

“She didn’t wait that long by choice. Fertility issues have plagued your bloodline for generations. You must start early.”

“I refuse.”

He stopped and looked over his shoulders before standing squarely in front of her.

The intensity of his stare made the hair on Nore’s arms rise.

Under his breath, he said, “Nore, the dead only grow more restless with the news of the Sphere. They are already inside the walls, which is unprecedented. You are playing with fire. You need to cement their commitment to you with a magical heir.”

“You knew.” He knew about her lack of magic. And the seed of toushana in her, from her mother.

“Sweet child.” He tapped her nose. “Of course I knew. I kept Pizor and Kimper in the dark. Kimper can be abrasive with matters that require a gentle touch. I am only sorry I couldn’t do more to help you. I aided Ellery as much as I could. But he grew cold even to me.”

Nore didn’t have words. “He’s lost now.”

“The Sage is a craftsman, a maker of things, who upholds truth and law.” He held her arm tight but gently. “Do you understand what I mean?”

Nore shook her head. She’d stopped doing the empty worship rituals as soon as her mother gave up on forcing her to go.

She’d forgotten most of the recitations she’d memorized when little.

All she knew was that it was good to pray to the Wielder in times of danger, the Sage when in need of help, and the Sovereign always.

But she never did any of it anymore. She’d tried praying to the Wielder once, terrified of her mother, and it didn’t help. Why would she do it again?

“The dead require his blessing to accept anything that does not fit the natural law. At Begonia Terrace when the dead accepted your heart, they did not have the Sage’s blessing.

When they returned with a heart like yours, it angered the Sage.

I’ve been begging mercy for you and the dead in my prayers. ”

“Thank you” were the only words she could think of. What did it mean to have a god angry at you? She hugged her free arm around herself.

“Is there anything I can do?” she asked.

“Pay your penance, attend services, and say your prayers, every day, like I taught you when you were a girl. Ask for mercy. The Sage values truth as much as law. Show him your true self, Nore. Hold nothing back, and I believe he will honor you as heir. You are a warrior at heart. He will respect that.”

Winkel’s nails dug half-moons into her arms.

“So sorry.” He released his tight grip. He’d gone pale as he smoothed the sickle indentations from her skin. “I worry about you, dear girl. That’s all.”

“The ancestors have accepted me. But if the gods don’t honor me as heir, then what?”

“Then we are at war.”