Page 91 of House of Marionne

“I got it.” I set my hand on hers.

She nods, her teeth pulling at her lip with worry. As if everything she’s worked for amounts to this moment.

“I’m overcome with so many feelings. If I had to sum them up, I’d say I’m eager to make this Season unforgettable for myself, my House, but especially for Headmistress, my dear grandmother, who has worked tirelessly to prepare me for this day.”

Grandmom’s lips part and she digs in her bag suddenly, flicking away something at her eye. If I’ve embarrassed this House before, I’ve certainly made up for it now. Popper’s magic jots that down, and he wishes me luck before departing.

Shelby hovers in the doorway. She waves before tossing back a whole flute of champagne.

Grandmom clears her throat. “You have a whole host of people to talk to, but let’s meet this afternoon. I have something for you.”

“All right. I’ll see you then.”

Grandmom departs, bidding the other Council members who haven’t left goodbye just as Dexler hugs me and hands me a wrapped box. “Fratis fortunam.”

“A fortuna. Thank you, you shouldn’t have.”

“It’s tradition. Open it whenever. No rush.” Dexler departs, and I spot a familiar diadem atop long dark hair and a kind face.

“Abby—”

“Quell—”

We say at the same time.

“This is for you, congratulations.” She hands me a small box similar to Dexler’s.

“Thanks, Abby. And I’m sorry.” The apology expels like a much-needed release. “I should have stayed. A friend would have stayed.”

“When you left, it honestly felt like you didn’t care that it was a moment about me. But when I thought about what it must have been like for you . . .” She sighs and I grab her hand. “What I’m trying to say is, I noticed you don’t ever talk about your mom or your life before here. But I can tell you miss her. Thinking back on it that day, it was written all over your face how uncomfortable you were. I feel bad that I didn’t think of that. I’m sorry.”

“I’ve never done this before, so I’m sorry, too. If I was insensitive or selfish. I felt bad leaving, really. It just was a lot at once.”

She squeezes my hand back. “Fortunately, perfection isn’t on the list of requirements for being my friend.”

I snort. “Friends?”

“Friends.” She slings an arm around my shoulder.

* * *

A fire burns in Grandmom’s sitting room, and evening glows outside the windows as a gentleman with sooty fingers hoists a large frame onto her wall. I’ve settled in a chair beside it when her bedroom doors open.

“Oh Jerry, it’s brilliant,” she says, gliding in. “Quell, Jerry is our senior cartographer.”

“Class of ’79, simple Shifter.” He tips his hat. “Pleasure is all mine.”

“Pleased to meet you, sir.”

“I’ve just had the French Quarter redone,” she says, indicating the frame. “What do you think?”

I take a closer look and realize it is a map of central New Orleans, but there are streets where structures should be and entrances on the wrong sides of buildings. The lines are drawn with the utmost precision and each place is scaled precisely like the building beside it. My fingers trail the outline of a round structure at the back of what should be the French Market and I tense, realizing I know that place. That’s where I saw those Draguns kill that man when the walls changed. Grandmom watches me as if I should say something.

“It’s, uh, very impressive.”

“Isn’t it? Jerry, see my secretary, she’ll make sure you’re all squared away. And let’s do the others in the hall, why don’t we? I really like the gold fillet.”

“Very good, ma’am.” Jerry departs, and Grandmom turns to me. “Now, to you!”