Page 81 of House of Marionne

“I’ll find you later.”

“Maybe, I don’t know.” I hurry off.

The room where Abby has me meet her is a quaint sitting room with a glorious view of the sweeping estate. Abby cradles a teacup, watching as trays of jewels are being set out in front of her.

“Quell, you made it!”

A Shifter curating a pot of tea with a pile of fresh herbs and rose petals offers me a cup, and I take one, looping my fingers into the handle the way Grandmom showed me.

“We’re just getting started. Here, come sit by me.”

The room is a traffic jam of racks lined with dresses in every color and fabric. Some glitter, others shine. Dazzling necklaces and dangly earrings are splayed across furniture.

“Is this the friend I’ve been hearing so much about?” A woman who could be Abby’s twin, only slightly older, sets down a stack of dresses and extends a hand. “I’m Teresa, Abby’s mother. You must be Quell.”

“Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Feldsher.” I curtsy.

“Oh, no, no. I should be curtsying to you,” she jokes, glancing up at my diadem. “She’s every bit as lovely as you said, Abs. Thanks for being here to support her. This has been a long time coming.”

“Mom, really?” Abby shoos away a server offering her a tray of iced cookies. “See why I need you here?” she mutters.

“Which one is your favorite?” I whisper.

“These are my two picks from the swatch samples.” Abby’s mom dangles a gold sequined gown and a shiny red one with embroidered fleurs on it. “And they have reinforced lining along the torso for stronger magic retention. What do you think?”

“Mom, I don’t like those.” She pulls me over to a rack of dresses in dark purples and blues that are simply stunning, and for a moment I imagine what it would be like to be in her shoes. An ache of sadness writhes in me, watching Abby and her mother fawn over the options.

“Quell?”

“Yes, sorry, did you say something?”

“I said I think these colors go better with my diadem.” Abby indicates a purple sequined one.

“It’s too humdrum and doesn’t have all the fortifications these do.” Her mother holds up her two favorites beside Abby’s. “We need function and maximum sparkle.”

“Mom, I don’t care how it functions. I care how it looks.”

“Let’s put it to a vote. Quell?”

“Oh gosh . . . I sort of agree that the gold ones go better with Abby’s diadem. But the purple and blues are gorgeous, too. But I think that’s the one.” I point to the purple one Abby’s wiggling ever so slightly and she grins.

“I should have known I’d be defeated against you two.” Her mother dotes on her with such sweetness that I have to look away. I’ll never have a moment quite like this.

Mrs. Feldsher checks the label. “This one is Civaolin. Let me see if my people can get his people on the phone. We need this done quickly.”

“Can’t you just wear this one?” I smooth my hand on the silk gown, trying to blink away thoughts of Mom.

Her mother guffaws. “She’s funny, too! I need a quiet room to make this call. Abs, can you work on accessories and such next?” she asks before leaving.

“Thanks for having my back.” Abby loops her arm in mine as we survey a collection of statement necklaces with fleur-de-lis shaped jewels dangling from them.

“Your mom is really nice.”

“She’s a lot.”

I reach for my key chain, which isn’t there. It’s in a drawer by my bed, in my room. Mom, I miss you. “It’s just really cool that you get to do this together.”

Abby goes on and on about all the preparations they’ve been making, and I muster as much enthusiasm as I can. But eventually, longing stretches the spaces between my words until I’m all out of them. She shows me more fine things than I’ve ever seen, but it becomes a blur, morphing into one big heavy feeling.