Page 101 of House of Marionne

“She’s pretty disappointed.”

“I mean, you’re the heir and all,” he goes on. “Maybe you could put in a good word.”

I feel Jordan tense beside me at the suggestion of rule-breaking.

“So!” I say, before he can open his mouth. “Looks like your training is going well.” I gesture at two fresh inked marks on his arm.

“Right, thanks.” He pulls his sleeves down. “I’m surprised to see you in here,” Mynick says, apparently determined to resurrect Jordan’s scorn. “With what’s going on with those Perl girls.”

I sit up. “Perl girls?”

Mynick’s eyes widen. “You don’t know?”

Jordan faces him.

“Neither of you know, wow.”

“Out with it, Ambrose.”

“Two debs were supposed to show up for Second Rite yesterday but never did. Their parents haven’t seen them either. It’s all everyone’s talking about. That and the heir to House Marionne birthing the sun itself out of her blade at exam.”

The green in Jordan’s eyes darkens. Two girls from the Order are missing. The fear I felt the first time I met a Dragun twists in my stomach.

“Is there anywhere they could have gone?” I ask. “Maybe there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation.”

Mynick shrugs. “Didn’t mean to be the bearer of bad news. Congrats again, Quell. I’ll see you around.”

Jordan stands, and just like that the soft parts of him are jagged. “I have to go.” He grabs his coat.

“Jordan, are you okay?”

“This happened in my House. I should have known about it.” His green gaze is as gray as steel. “I should be out there—”

“I’m sure Headmistress Perl has people looking into it.”

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“I’m just saying it’s not your fault.”

His stone expression leaves no room for argument, so I let it go.

“I need to prepare to help, whatever might come. I should ready my magic,” he mutters.

“Manage . . . that thing we talked about, you mean?”

“All these questions about my magic . . .”

“Jordan, I—”

“You’re obviously trying to make a case for”—he lowers his tone—“life as a Dragun, and I won’t let you. I’d never do that to you.”

“I thought you were proud of your duty.”

“I am.” He buttons his coat.

“I was just—”

“I have to go, Quell. I’m sorry. Can I walk you back?”