Page 93 of Fortress of Ambrose (House of Marionne #3)

Epilogue

Quell

Three months later

House of Marionne is more magnificent than it’s ever been as all manner of guests stream through its doors.

The estate is fully repaired but also reoriented a bit.

The rose garden has been replanted. I replaced the garden of black roses with white lilies, which remind me of new beginnings.

The Belles and Gents Wings have been expanded to accommodate twice the number of students.

And as the grand entrance doors open, welcoming another announced couple, I spot my favorite addition: a new statue.

There are two statues on the grounds now.

The one my grandmother had made of her mother and sister, and another of just Grandmom in her old age, holding a single rose, the way I remember her.

Violin and piano notes dance on the lively atmosphere as more seats in the ballroom fill.

“Still surprised you didn’t get rid of the tradition of a formal ceremony and dance altogether.

” Jordan lingers beside me, keeping an eye on the guests trailing from the entrance into the grand ballroom, where the ceremony is about to begin.

He’s in a dapper white tux. There is no sash across him or heart pendant.

He does not wear any vestige of the Order at all.

And while he is still bound to toushana and would have it no other way, he has washed his hands of any formal role completely.

“No one gets dibs on ceremonies, dances, or formal dinners. We have to keep creating new traditions. There’s much work to do.

But inclusivity means giving access to old traditions to everyone.

That’s freedom.” I chuckle. “That was the easy decision. I’m still not sure having the inaugural induction for the new Order here at Chateau Soliel made the most sense? ”

“Determined to spiral about something, are you?”

“Fair. But nothing worries you these days.”

“Jealous?” He grins an infectious smile that fills his eyes with amusement.

Leaving the Order behind was the best decision he ever made.

I wasn’t sure where it made the most sense to host our first Induction Ceremony for the new and improved Order, a true—Nova Misa—but the other House leaders insisted it was fitting to host it at mine.

There are so many new faces it wriggles my stomach with nerves.

Jordan ropes his arm onto mine as I wave at a familiar face coming through the doors: Kedd, from Willam’s old safe house, with a date on his arm.

The twins are with them, much bigger than I remember.

As the foyer crowd thins, we follow them inside.

There are flower arrangements everywhere, tables draped in every House color, including black.

There are pink-and-gold plates with matching flatware, sparkly dark jewels hanging from branches sprouting out of luscious centerpieces.

Silks slope along the ceiling in rippling patterns in every House color.

Shimmering chandeliers dangle above a center table that runs the length of the room. I spot Dexler and wrangle her over.

“You’ve done a beautiful job on this.” It took her a week to wake up and nearly a month to fully heal. I notice two others behind her. One in particular that makes my heart squeeze. My mother’s arms are open before she reaches me. We hug, and it will never get old. Knox is with them.

“I couldn’t have done any of this without their help,” Dexler says. “It was a team effort.”

Knox smiles. My mother pinches my arm and winks. “Proud of you, ma’am.”

A group of débutants trails behind my mother, chattering among themselves with excitement. She brought them with her from their hideaway. Nova Misa won’t be a legend or a secret anymore. Now it will be real. Dexler whisks them all away to their seats before I get too mushy-eyed.

At the long head table is a place for the Order’s leadership. Drew is in their appointed Headship seat, having their champagne refilled, while Nore, beside them, gushes about something that must be quite funny.

“She looks like she’s recovering just fine,” I tell Jordan.

After the Dragunhead was buried, with Erla’s help, Nore underwent a similar extraction procedure to remove the seed of toushana that had begun to grow in her.

She was truly free, as she’d always wanted to be.

The procedure’s success ended up being a great help to my mother as well, who was able to offer it to any in hiding with her who wanted free of the toushana they didn’t ask for.

Some kept it; others did not. But their hideaway was disassembled, and everyone was invited here today to join the Order properly if they’d like. A Nova Misa for everyone.

“Is Litze here?” Jordan asks, scanning.

“Oh, did I not tell you? Ever since Drew ousted her as Headmistress by popular vote, she’s been on sabbatical in Fiji for an indeterminate amount of time.”

Jordan rolls his eyes, and I giggle. Former Draguns fill the seats, along with many from Zecky’s safe house.

I can’t imagine they are all here, but whoever wants into Nova Misa will be given the benefit of the doubt and a chance.

Everyone gets a clean slate, and a chance to pick their own path.

If they choose violence and carnage, they will be dealt with accordingly.

But they won’t be judged by their past. Knox leads a line of friends bound to dark magic to a row near the front before flagging down Willam to say hello to him.

But he sits in the last seat at the farthest end of the table, tying and retying his bow tie.

“You should really help him,” I tell Jordan.

“You’re right. Poor guy.” He heads that way.

The audience chairs are nearly filled, with all eyes on the center of the ballroom at seven raised stands.

One for each House. There is a hand-painted sculpted fleur-de-lis I found in my grandmother’s study on one stand.

An ancient set of Duncan-esque balancing scales on another.

A tied bushel of dried yew leaves is in an ancient stone vase from House of Ambrose, a bouquet of the most beautiful red roses with spiky thorns is wrapped with a leather strap courtesy of Adola, an ornately hand-carved and painted mask preserved by Drew Oralia, a hand-carved sun on another, and a golden heart on the last stand.

Dexler gestures for me to join her at the front, and my stomach’s nerves never cease to surprise me.

This is the first time the Order has ever welcomed anyone who wants magic to take their pick on House and type of magic.

I look for Erla but realize she’s beaten me to the front, decked out in a jade-green dress ornamented with jewels dangling from her ears fit for ancient gods. She’s breathtaking.

“Headmistress.” She greets me with a hug before handing me a slender box. I peek inside, and there are two daggers there, the one Lady Ruby gave us imbued with dark magic, and the other an ancient leather-handled blade Dexler found in the Chateau’s attic.

“You did it!” I asked Erla to move the Sphere’s mwertae—proper—magic from the diadem into a dagger as well, to make sure they present equitably to the masses. Neither is favored anymore. Toushana will be as available and as revered as any other kind of magic.

“And you’re sure it’ll work for people who have already used some born-magic inside them?”

“Being anointed by binding with the Sphere’s magic directly is such an overwhelming amount of power directly to the heart, it’ll reset their magical affinity.

If they want to keep training in the strand of mwertae magic they already know, they don’t need to be reanointed.

But if they want to try a new strand, of either variety, they can plunge the dagger into their heart, and it’ll function like a fresh anointing of Sun Dust.”

“Saying ‘Thank you’ doesn’t quite seem enough.”

“You can forgive me.” She winks and hip-bumps me. “For abandoning you.”

I purse my lips, pretending to give her a hard time. Everyone got to choose their own House. And Erla really loved Dlaminaugh. So that’s where she’s chosen to stay. They are making her a maezre to head up their Anatomics section.

“You will do well there. My hope is that together we can steer this ship in a better direction.”

“We will.” She gestures at the table. “Look at our leadership.”

I hug her again just as the horn blows, signaling the start of the ceremony, when I realize there are still two chairs empty at the head table. Yagrin enters the ballroom with his cousin Adola on his arm. They hustle to the front, to their respective seats. Adola, Headmistress of House Perl.

And Yagrin, the new Dragunhead.

Of a new brotherhood.

I step up on the dais. All eyes are on me.

Dexler clears her throat, making her way to the front with a walking stick.

She’s been on the mend still, but it’s a relief to see her awake and up on her feet.

When I spot my mother in the crowd, she winks.

I search for Jordan and find him leaning on a back wall. He blows me a kiss and taps his watch.

I finally stop rehearsing in my head what I want to say and just start. “Welcome, everyone, to the inaugural induction into Nova Misa, a magical guild of mwertae and toushana!”

The audience erupts in cheers. I look out to the crowd and see there are all manner of people—ancient House families, newer ones, former safe housers, ambitious young Marked ones, older ones, too.

And I can’t help but feel like this is what Sola Sfenti envisioned when he discovered magic.

Something special. Something lasting. Something for everyone.

“Before I go any further, I’d like Yagrin Wexton to stand.”

He shuffles awkwardly as he stands. Nore beams. I told her my plan, and she loved it to pieces.

“Today you will also have the choice to select admission into the brotherhood. No longer by invite only and with a brand-new mission. Yagrin, tell us about it.”

His cheeks flush. “I have to admit I never saw this role for myself. But, um, I’m looking forward to leading a new brotherhood that, instead of punishing people for how they live, serves to protect the rights of all members to pursue magic of their choosing.”

The explosion of applause is more raucous than before. Some of Willam’s friends stand. It’s contagious, and in minutes the room rings with applause. I thank Yagrin, and once everyone quiets, I manage to give my welcome speech and facilitate induction without passing out from nervousness.

Thirty-seven new faces join House of Marionne.

Half chose the toushana track, plunging Ruby’s dagger into their hearts.

The others chose the mwertae track, binding with the ancient House blade.

And one ambitious pupil wanted to try both.

So we let him. The other Houses picked up a bunch of new débutants for their roster.

Willam nabbed several. He gave a spiel about how his House will be smaller, with more individualized attention and focus on empowering people very new to magic. That perked up many in the audience.

By afternoon, the ballroom was full of dancing revelry, and for the first time in my life, I didn’t want to say yes when Jordan sashayed his way over to me with a quirked brow.

“Come on, one spin around the room?” he pleads with those gorgeous green eyes.

“I cannot move another inch.” I kick off my shoes.

“Does that mean our sabbatical is officially beginning?” He rubs his hands together, and I’m not sure I’ve ever seen Jordan Wexton more excited to do literally nothing but lie on a beach.

“My mother said she will stop by.”

He nuzzles my neck. “Hopefully she calls first.”

“Knox has my instructions. She’s in charge. My mother’s staying on to help.” I shrug. “I think we can tiptoe out of here.” The estate rings with celebration as we exit the ballroom. The air is full of laughter. The Audiors we reserved will be playing until sunup.

“We did good, I think.”

“You did good.”

“Sure.” We lace fingers, and I turn my back to all of the House business, when Yagrin comes darting through the ballroom doors. “You’re heading out?”

“Yes. Try not to break everything we just fixed,” I joke. He laughs. Yagrin and Jordan stare awkwardly. This is the first time they’ve seen each other since everything happened at Dlaminaugh. Jordan and I returned to the Chateau right away.

“How long are you going?” Yagrin asks.

“No idea, really,” Jordan says.

“Mom said you have to try the street food there.”

“I will.” Jordan shifts on his feet. Yagrin does, too. Then they tackle each other in a hug that brings joyful tears to my eyes. They hold each other for a long moment. When they break the embrace, Jordan swipes beneath his eye. Yagrin slaps him on the back before retreating inside.

The car waiting for us outside the Chateau is loaded down with our things. I packed a bunch. Way more than I’ll need.

“After you, Miss Marionne.” Jordan opens the door for me.

“Where to?” the driver asks once we’re snuggled up inside.

“Freedom. True freedom.”