Page 71 of Fortress of Ambrose (House of Marionne #3)

Fifty-Six

Yagrin

Jordan’s eyes burned with a madness that stuck like a knife between Yagrin’s ribs.

He’d seen his brother furious at their aunt, at their father, even heartbroken over Quell.

But he’d never seen such rage in his brother.

The numerous times Yagrin found himself lost, cast aside, broken, his brother had saved him. Shouldn’t he save Jordan in return?

As Jordan let him go, Yagrin wrestled with love for his brother and the dignity he deserved but had never demanded.

“Thanks for all the years, brother. I can never repay them. But I’m done being your errand boy.”

His brother fumed. Murder glinted in his eyes. Yagrin couldn’t breathe. If Jordan came at him, he’d give it all he had. Nore deserved that. He deserved it.

But something prompted his brother to turn and march out.

He wanted to believe it was love. That some part of the boy who used to play hide-and-seek with him and tell him stories at bedtime was still in there.

But he couldn’t live for that hope anymore.

He had to start living for himself. Yagrin peeled himself off the wall and straightened his clothes.

He splashed water on his face and wiped the sweat from his brow.

He was going to find a way to break the Pact with the dead.

He and Nore would come through this alive.

That was all that mattered.

Yagrin cut across the snowy fields of Dlaminaugh with sharp steps.

The dead had their claws into Nore now, demanding she grow the toushana inside her.

He had to figure out what they wanted more than they wanted Nore.

They were basically human, which meant they could be swayed if he could appeal to them in the right way.

He stopped.

I know what they want.

Nore’s seed of toushana.

They demanded that she grow it.

They wanted a heart with powerful dark magic. He hurried faster across the snow despite feeling like he might hurl. He would convince the dead to return Nore’s heart in exchange for a heart with the strongest dark magic there was.

His brother’s.