Page 65 of Fortress of Ambrose (House of Marionne #3)

Her mother was already seated in the breakfast room. The head seat of the long family table was empty. Nore gulped, realizing the last time she was in this room, she sat where her mother was sitting, and the chair the servant just pulled out for her is where Isla had sat.

“Good morning,” Nore said, smoothing her linen dress.

“I was so glad to get your note this morning.”

She’d almost chickened out of the idea before bed.

But after a solid night’s rest she still woke up with the burning feeling that needed her mother’s insight.

And she sort of wanted it, too. The elusive identity of her mother’s selected suitor was just the bait for her conscience.

In truth, she’d wanted to ask this woman questions for years. This was her chance.

Nore sat. Her mother passed her a tray of thinly sliced meats. She took a few to be polite. But her stomach was swimming. She shouldn’t accost her mother with questions. She couldn’t be rude. That wouldn’t go anywhere. But she also would not pretend everything between them was fine.

“So how have you been settling in?” Isla asked.

“I hate it.” She bit her lip. She hadn’t meant to be that truthful.

“I hated this place for months after coronation, too.”

Nore slid a piece of fruit into her mouth. “Did you?”

“Very much. I hated what it did to me.”

Nore’s gaze hit her lap. “I wasn’t prepared for this role.”

“Blame me for that.”

“I do,” she spat, able to meet her mother’s gaze again.

The servers in the room stared at one another.

Isla nodded with a somber glisten in her eyes.

Nore stuffed her hands between her knees, kneading them together as if that would settle her nerves.

That’s when she noticed something odd about her mother’s dress sleeves.

Where the frayed edges would normally spray across her delicate wrists, they’d been hemmed neatly and lined with blue velvet ribbon.

“What are you wearing?”

Her mother stood and turned in a circle, showing off the adjustments to her gown. The gray of her corset was threaded with the same blue as her sleeves, forming intricate patterns along the ribs of the gown. Nore was speechless as her mother sat back down.

“Just following the rules,” her mother said, bringing a teacup to her mouth. “I’ve always loved blue.”

“Your favorite color is gray, I thought.”

“I’m sure you did.”

Nore studied the woman she’d sat across from for so many years. Did she know her at all? She sliced a pear before sliding it in her mouth.

“I would love to help you learn your new role,” her mother said, pushing her muffin aside. “It is a lot at times.”

They shared a laugh. Nore released her iron grip on the edge of her seat. “Thank you for meeting with me.”

“I’m grateful you even considered it. Though I am curious what brought this on.”

“I think it’s obvious.”

“The boy has been sent away is my understanding.”

Nore pushed around the food on her plate, itching to dive into what she wanted to know. “Did you send yours away too?”

Her mother’s face flushed, and Nore had her answer.

“So you went along with it?”

“It made sense. I wanted an astute heir.” Her mother smiled. “I was also expecting his arrival, so it wasn’t as alarming. But most of all, I hoped it would please my mother. I spent a lot of my life doing things I thought would please others.”

“I can’t relate.”

Her mother crossed her legs. “What questions do you have? I’m an open book.”

“Clear the room,” Nore ordered, and the servants exited, shutting the doors tightly. “Everything. Ellery’s plans. He’s winning Ambrosers’ loyalty somehow. And the dead want me to grow this poison in me.”

Her mother clutched her chest.

“Families are furious. Pizor and Kimper are not very helpful. And then there’s the Scroll.”

“The Immortality Scroll?”

“Yes, we’ve found most of—”

“Leave that alone. You’re chasing a dead end.”

“That’s what everyone says. It’s impossible. But I’m stubborn, remember?”

Her mother sighed. “You don’t even begin to understand what you’re up against with the Scroll.

And Kimper takes a certain finesse. I can help you win her over.

Pizor cannot be won over. He thinks what he thinks, but he usually won’t dissent on a vote with Kimper.

Your brother—I don’t know where to start with him.

There is so much I should tell you. I’m not sure this is the venue.

Nor is it the place to discuss that thing you’ve been asked to grow.

Word of that spreading would risk more than just unseating you.

People would demand a public death. House rules for betrayal. ”

Nore’s head throbbed. Would Ellery tell them? Without proof, it was no more than a rumor. And Ambrosers usually demanded their intellectual curiosity be fully satisfied.

“Despite what you think, your brother loves you. He thinks he is doing what’s best for you. He is wrong.”

“I don’t know if I agree with that.” Nore’s eyes burned with tears, and the suddenness of it unsteadied her.

She grabbed another slice of toast and buttered it quickly.

She’d loved her brother and wanted to believe he loved her.

He was her only friend in the entire world for so long.

The truth was a sharp pain in the place where her heart used to live.

His betrayal cut her too deep to ever heal.

“How are things going with your inner council and the rumors of the Sphere?” Isla asked.

“We haven’t discussed it.”

“Nore, it’s your duty to usher the House’s future. That requires planning. The world is on fire. The Sphere was drained of magic on these grounds just months ago.”

“I’m more aware of what happened with the Sphere than you realize.” Nore tensed at the strain returning to her voice.

“What does that mean? Does this have to do with that Wexton boy you’re keeping around?”

Nore wasn’t ready to tell her mother about Yagrin, Jordan, and Quell and all their plans. “It didn’t mean anything.”

“Oh, come on.” Her mother’s silverware hit her plate. “How can I help if you keep me in the dark?”

“I am not going to fight with you.”

“Then let me help you.”

“I will. My way.” Nore released her grip on the fork tight in her fist. They ate for several minutes in silence.

She wasn’t prepared to be Headmistress, but she certainly wasn’t prepared for all her mother was looking for—a relationship.

But she needed to understand things only her mother could show her.

It was smart to allow her mother to assist. She pushed back her chair and grabbed her napkin.

“Meet me in my office each morning at the top of the day.”

“And how about a check-in later in the day to see if there’s anything that’s come up that shouldn’t wait until morning?”

Nore felt the push like a squeeze on her ribs, a hug she didn’t want.

“I could join you for dinner, perhaps? Here. So it’s more casual.”

“Sure.” Nore dabbed her mouth. “Mornings and dinners. Starting tomorrow.”

“Excellent.” Her mother slid her chair back as well, wiping her hands.

“One more thing. Kendall Dorset. The man sent to you on coronation night.”

Her mother didn’t move. “What about him?”

So that was his name. Not an alias. “Why is his name not in the Book of Names? Nor is there any record of him finishing Third Rite.”

Her mother left her chair and joined her at the head of the table. She moved a rogue tendril out of her face. “Some doors are better left shut,” she said. “See you tomorrow.” She turned to go.

“I am your House Headmistress. You will answer me truthfully.”

Her mother stopped.

“Is Kendall Dorset my father?”

She swallowed. “Yes. May I go?”

“Did you erase his name from the Book of Names?”

Confusion drew her brows together. “No. How could I?”

“Maybe you called in a favor with Darragh Marionne.”

“Nore, I did no such thing. He did not finish. There is no Cotillion record. May I please go?”

It wasn’t enough. But they’d made progress, and that felt more important than anything.

“Sure.” When Nore left the dining hall, her mother’s words still irked her. So she walked to the courtyard where the Hall of Shame plaque was on the facade of the building. There were hundreds of names of people who’d started at their House but dropped out, all alphabetized.

Kendall’s name wasn’t there either.