The door to my room parts open tentatively, and I glimpse Grandmom’s face.
“I’m ready to talk, please.”
Grandmom is in a blazer and skirt, with a fleur brooch beside her neck, gloves on her hands. She comes inside, light streaming in behind her. And I suddenly realize I’m not sure how long I’ve been trapped in here. She takes in the room and her expression twists.
“You’re on your way out?”
“To a meeting, yes.” She tightens her mouth at the mess I’ve made of her precious things. “I didn’t want to keep you waiting in the event you’ve come to your senses with Cotillion tomorrow.”
Tomorrow! My chance isn’t lost. “I have.”
“I’m listening.” She faces me, rigid and unreadable, her classic expression. I stare at her a moment and realize I could be looking in a mirror. But because I didn’t grow up here, shellacked by this world, I am not beholden to it. Not yet.
I can tell by the way her hands hook together, the draw up of her shoulders, she’s nervous. Cautious. Whatever I say has to convince her completely. She can’t suspect I’m lying or who knows what she might do. I know her dirty tethering secret now, and she’s proven she doesn’t balk at getting rid of those who can cause trouble for her. I clasp my hands behind my back, digging my nails into my skin as if in them are buried roots of courage.
“You were right.” I paint on a sad veneer and fidget with my hands. I even pace a little bit for good measure. “The shock of everything threw me. I can’t imagine a safer place to be. Home. With you, here in Chateau Soleil.”
The word sticks in my throat.
Home is Mom. Home is my toushana. Home is wherever I choose it to be.
My forbidden magic flickers in me, and its chill soothes.
“I will complete Third Rite and bind with my magic, erasing my toushana forever.”
Grandmom circles me, and my heart thrums faster.
“Forgive me, please, I still want to induct if you would have me.”
Her fingers play on the pile of wood that used to be a dresser. “King Louis XVI gave this to my great-great-great-grandmother. A gift at her Cotillion from his own collection.”
I knew it was special; it was too fancy not to be. But I refuse to feel guilty.
“He was big into the arts back then and was enthralled by magic. Something he never could get to conform to his will. So he befriended our family. People like to be close to our world. But it takes much to be in it.”
Grandmom faces me, scorn and question burned into her expression.
“I don’t know that he would have had the stomach to induct. Too weak. Their monarchy fell at his hand, you know?” She runs her fingers across the pile of rubble and its ashes stir, as if unsettled by a gust of wind. She pulls back on the pile with her fingers, and the broken pieces of the dresser cinch back together, shedding their blackened finish for its former gilded veneer.
I gasp.
“I keep it here as a reminder.” A knob that had rolled across the room snaps to the dresser and it sits perfect as if it had never been destroyed. “Kings can be brave; they can do wonderful things. Beautiful things. And yet their monarchy can still fall. Their legacy moving on without them.” She glimpses herself in the mirror, which has re-formed as well. “A hundred years from now, House of Marionne will be more than fancy dressers and gilded ballrooms.”
She steps toward me.
I don’t step back.
“Running the Order isn’t unlike running a kingdom. You do what you must for the greater good. And in this case, that is our family. Our bloodline. The future of this House. Do you understand that?”
“I do.”
She’s unmoved and turns away from me.
“Which is why binding to the House with the tether is so important,” I say, hoping to dent her doubt.
That swivels her head around.
“It ensures my loyalty is unwavering, that I’m committed to serve this House, whatever comes.”
She folds her arms.
“If I am in this, I am in it all the way.”
“Then prove it. Give me your key chain. Rhea would never accept you grafting yourself into this world. You have to let this dream of her and you go. If you’re in this, as you say . . .” She holds out her hand. This I didn’t expect.
If I do this, I have no way to communicate with Mom. But it would seal Grandmom’s trust that I mean what I say.
“Well?”
“Yes, of course, Grandmom.” I dig the key chain out of my pocket. There has to be some other way to find Mom when I leave this horrid place. I set it in her hand, and she turns it to dust in an instant.
A piece of me fractures. I hope that wasn’t the wrong decision.
“Very well.” Her chin rises. “That dresser was fortified with protection magic. Your toushana is untrained, but it runs strong in you. It might give you a fight on that stage. Your heart must be sure or it’ll turn to metal. You must be resilient and resist hard. While maintaining poise. No one must know what you’re battling.”
“I understand,” I tell her. “I can do this.”
“I hope you can see how much I love you, Quell.”
“And I am so grateful.” I slide my foot behind the other, one knee inside the other, and fold in a perfect curtsy.
Grandmom opens the door. “You should get yourself some proper rest. Cotillion is tomorrow. I expect you in my room by six a.m. Do not make me have to come to find you.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She slips on a ring from a desk drawer. Then smooths her hands over my face, beneath my eyes, and over my hair, and nausea rises in my throat at her touch. “Now run along.”
I pass a mirror and glimpse her Shifting handiwork, her gift for hiding the truth. Looking at me you’d never know I’d spent days locked away crying my eyes out.
It’s late evening and most are in bed as I hurry down the hall to my room. I offer a plastic “Good evening” to a handful of onlookers. Some ask where I’ve been, to which I just smile. Inside my room I bar the door closed. The minute I leave here, I don’t know how long I’ll have before Grandmom outs my toushana to the Dragunhead. I have to find Mom fast.
And I’m going to need help.
There’s only one person I’d trust to help me with something so dangerous. But I’m not sure how to send him a message without knowing his full name. I crack my door open but find one of Grandmom’s Draguns standing sentry outside it. Sneaking off to the Tavern won’t work.
Who else can I trust? Abby? I grab a note to write to her, but I hesitate when the pen hits the paper. I’ve never asked anything of her more than advice here or there. I chew off my nail, hoping I’m making the right decision.
Abs,
I have so much to tell you. It’s not safe here anymore. For now, do exactly what I say. Go to the Tavern and find a trader by the name of Octos. Tell him I need his help. He will come with you. Don’t come to Cotillion. Meet me afterward in the forest on the usual trail we would take to the Tavern. I’ll explain everything.
—Quell
I grab another paper and write to Mom, telling her there’s been a change of plans and asking her to meet me in the same place as Abby.
Butterflies swarm in my stomach as I seal the envelopes and write their names on the front. I stuff the letters into my shirt and reopen my door. The Dragun doesn’t say anything, so I don’t say anything to him. I recognize him as the one who’s occasionally outside of Grandmom’s door. I slip past him and he stalks me, like a shadow.
“Just going to Mrs. Cuthers to be sure we’re set for tomorrow.”
He gestures for me to continue on, but when I take another step, he sticks to my heels. Mrs. Cuthers’s door is unlocked when we arrive. The Dragun hovers in the doorway watching as I rummage around inside, pretending to look through stacks of boxes she has. Her desk is mostly tidy, and I pretend to shuffle through the few things she has there, careful to angle my body just so, to block his view of the wooden tray on her desk. My heart hammers as I slip the envelopes out of my shirt and into the outbox. They disappear immediately.
