Page 88 of Fortress of Ambrose (House of Marionne #3)

“You are the spitting image of your mother.” He stares at my profile, unmoved. “I was deeply sorry to hear about what happened to her.”

I can see my mother’s face, the real tears in her eyes over cherished lies.

“You should have told her. It’s very hard for me to act like you didn’t break her heart.”

“You don’t have to pretend, Quell. Be angry. I am angry at many things I’ve done in my time. Do you know how many mistakes a person makes in a hundred lifetimes? They will haunt me forever.” He pulls a bauble out of his pocket, a gold chain with two dangling hearts. One with an N and one with Q.

I look away.

“I deserve nothing but your contempt. But can I at least tell you how we got to this point?”

Unable to think of a single reason to not listen, I gesture for him to go on.

“It started as a plan to fix things. Magic was never good or bad. It was its own power with a diversity of uses. Both magics had a role and place, and they exist best together. Ever since the secret of magic leaked, greed burned hot in people. Misa rose. The Uppers were established, which came with more regulations about what magic was and who could use it. People and governments alike were consumed by the power magic could give them. I watched it all. Can you imagine the responsibility I felt? Knowing it was my grandmother who fled to protect magic. It was her direct ancestor who had found magic in the first place. I had to fix it. I know you’ve felt that pressure before. ”

I don’t respond. But I also can’t move, taking all of this in. He is not who I thought he would be. Much of what he says makes so much sense.

“When Misa fell,” he goes on, “people were murdered by the thousands. Families fled into hiding. I helped set up the House system, picking the families who I trusted to have a House in their name. Making good on promises I’d made to their ancestors centuries before.

Some Houses were to be instituted right away; others, for the sake of the appearance of democracy, would need to be established in time.

But even the House system grew unwieldy.

And toushana became more shamed. So I thought of a scheme, I’ll be honest, to force magic to exist in balance. ”

I watch him, still unable to move, not believing my ears.

“I remember the glory of ancient magic, the magic my family died for. That power lives in me. And magic is in the blood now, so to pass it on I had to have a child. I decided there would be two. One with a ferocious toushana. And another with brilliant mwertae magic—its ancient name—like the world has never seen. But genetics are not as easily controlled as magic. My first daughter never showed magic.” He again looks at Nore, whose lips are now slightly parted.

Breath sticks in my chest.

“And my second,” he continues, seeming not to notice, “was caught in a system that wanted to kill her. It took quite the scheming to make sure I was selected to be in charge of the brotherhood to oversee things.”

“Many have died or lived their lives in fear because of your command.”

“In the grand scheme of centuries, what are a few hundred? I can save those who matter. And I did. I became Dragunhead to make sure you and Nore lived.”

“You want credit for saving me? No, my grandmother and mother did that.”

“That is fair. But can’t you see? I want what you want, a world where toushana is free.”

I meet his eyes, overcome with a feeling I don’t know what to do with. “So what do you want now? Because you’re working with your son, who tried to kill your daughter.”

He sucks in a nasally breath. “Ellery is a complicated boy. Has been since he was born. He would never have killed Nore. He loved her.”

“That is not love.”

“I won’t make excuses, there’s been much wrong done. But we are standing on the edge of the future. And I am telling you, daughter, what we can build is greater and better than anything that’s ever existed. Will you hear my plan?”

He turns his back to Nore, and my heart skips a beat. But he’s still a few paces too far from her for Nore to be able to reach him.

“Go on,” I say.

“I know you’re fond of my Dragunheart.”

“He has a name.”

“Jordan. His body can’t handle the magic inside him.

He is an obstacle for you and for magic.

I tried to get rid of him. If we put the Sphere’s magic all inside me, an immortal, it will not kill me, and it can be forever safely possessed.

From there we can change the world, do away with the Houses and build new ones that instruct toushana.

We gave mwertae magic too much dominance. It’s time to flip the scales.”

My conversation with Jordan after the horrors in the lab plays like a song in my mind.

“You would hold on to all this power? For safekeeping.”

“Exactly. No one else can.”

“I see.”

“It is good, isn’t it?” Tiny creases hug his old eyes.

Even in this moment, the person sharing these confessions wears a mask.

I don’t even know what my father really looks like.

He spreads his arms as if for a hug, and a reckless urge comes over me, to take something I never had, in case it’s as sweet as I always imagined it could be.

My toushana flickers in warning. But I embrace my father in a big hug.

So big, he stumbles back a step.

Then another, nearly bumping against the funeral stand.

I hold tightly to him and say, “Someone I admire once told me that the world is changed by inspiring hope in others. Not one person having all the power.”

Nore rises like a ghost behind him, all fiery red hair and angry eyes. His stare widens as she wraps the cloak around him like a jacket. His movements become slower. He groans. I race to help Nore get down from her burial table.

I turn back just as the Dragunhead throws off the cloak.

Nore and I freeze. He shifts the weighty robe to a heap of threads. Fury burns in his feeble eyes.

I stumble backward into the funeral bed. Nore shrieks as he grabs a fistful of her hair.

“No!” My heart hammers as I reach for my magic. I hold my palms open, but not a wisp appears.