Page 128 of House of Marionne

“I think there’s a raid happening tonight,” he whispers. “There’ve been more lately because of all the concerns about the Sphere. We never should have come.”

“A raid?”

But before Jordan can respond, I spot a familiar dark-haired man with a low shave. He’s dressed nicer than the last time I saw him that afternoon at the Market, but I couldn’t mistake that face. Beside him is another I faintly recognize. I steady myself on the hard wall as the hazy memory of a man bound to a chair screaming rattles in my mind. The smoke that choked him, the way his head lolled. That man there, across the ballroom, is who stood over him, puffing on his cigar.

If those other men from the Market are here, the Dragun after me must be, too.

THIRTY-EIGHT

YAGRIN

Candlelit chandeliers swayed ever so gently from the ceiling of the Yaäuper Rea Ballroom. Yagrin tugged at his tux jacket, then eyed the seam of the doors for any indication of tampering. There was none. He reared back ever so slightly on his heels, pushing his magic up through his body to his head to sharpen his Dragun senses. If there was even a whiff that tonight’s exchange of Headmistresses’ goods downstairs could bleed into this ballroom, he would run out of there right now. Mother be damned. But it appeared all at the Tidwell was in order, glittering and decadent. He glanced at his watch. Ten minutes.

“Your heart’s racing.” Red worked her hand into his clammy fist.

“Yours is, too.”

“You really don’t have to be so nervous. I’ll be fine.”

He escorted her through the crowd, smiling at the familiar faces. “Don’t make eye contact with anyone unless it’s completely unavoidable.”

“Yagrin, just because I like living on a farm doesn’t mean—”

“This is not a game, Red.” He ushered them to a dark corner.

“No, it’s a party.” Her finger traced the slope of his nose and it melted him. How he wished none of this mattered. That having two left feet could be the worst of his anxieties tonight. But the veil he wore when he was with her had been ripped off when they stepped through the Q’s doors.

“The rules, tell them to me again.”

She sighed. “Don’t talk to anyone; if they try to talk to me, make a quick excuse and hurry away. If someone asks how I know you, I should say that I don’t. Not even your name. And not give any explanation beyond that. Let’s see, oh, and under no circumstances am I to leave this ballroom.”

“Promise me.”

“Yag—”

“Promise me, please.”

“I promise.”

He tried to exhale but couldn’t. He wanted to believe he could have this moment with Red, give her what she wanted and appease his Headmistress, too. His two worlds could coexist without colliding, even if tonight would be a near miss. He checked his watch again and looked for his peers or the freckle-faced girl who Mother had reminded him twice may be here tonight. But when a portly fellow walked toward him with wide eyes, Yagrin swept Red in another direction.

“Go over to the ice sculpture. Stay there until I come back and grab you.” He left her there, and shame twisted his insides. This wasn’t what Red wanted when she insisted on coming. But it was the best he could offer. Word could not get back to his family or anyone from his House that he was there with someone. They’d begin to ask questions, find out she was Unmarked, and assume he’d shared the secrets of their world. His stomach soured at the thought of what they would do then.

The big-bellied fellow plucked a slender purple-leaved cigar from a shiny case embossed with a cracked column as he caught up with him. “I thought that was you. They keep it so dim in these places. How have you been, my boy? I didn’t realize you all would be here tonight.”

“Fine, sir.” He craned for a glimpse of his Dragun brethren.

“All in order?”

Yagrin smiled politely. He wasn’t foolish enough to affirm or deny their private business.

“Well, I won’t keep you, I can see you have things to attend to.” He watched Yagrin for a response, but Yagrin remained stoic as he told the nosy House alum goodbye.

He was headed toward the sculpture to rejoin Red, who was poking holes in the ice, when he spotted a black and red gown from the corner of his eye. He glanced that way for his Housemate, but she was gone. Where were the rest of them? He peered through the crowd. The ballroom was massive, twice the size of the ones at Hartsboro. He navigated through the bodies of chattering people, head down, grateful at least the size of the crowd was working in his favor. He spotted another Housemate with mussed-up dark hair and a tailored suit. The fellow tapped his watch and held up three fingers at Yagrin.

Downstairs in three minutes.

Yagrin flipped his coin and blew out a breath before quickly checking on Red. She’d broken off a chip of ice and was stirring it in her drink.