Page 106 of Fortress of Ambrose
“Yes. And the leather-bound journal was from his trip to the Netherlands when I was twelve.” Nore lost sight of Winkel as the crowd swelled. She couldn’t move.
“This will be over before you know it,” Yagrin said. “Remember to breathe deeply.”
There was so much concern in his expression. It made her feel ill. “I’m not staying for the brunch reception.”
“Then I won’t either. Where are you going after?”
She wanted to tell him she was going to lock herself in her room and try to slip back to her dream from last night. But instead, to spare him, she just said, “To sleep.” It was so nice of him to come and be there beside her. That’s what she needed. She wished she could give him more. “Thank you for being here, really,” she managed.
But an usher came along and dragged him to find his seat.
She was all alone at the back of the ballroom, waiting for the procession to begin. She gripped a nearby empty chair. She focused on Yagrin’s words, inhaling and exhaling slowly. When sunrise streamed through the ballroom’s windows, a chord of music silenced the audience.
It was time.
Yagrin was right. The ceremony was over quicker than she expected. She recited the House creed and took her oath. Her mother cloaked her in the House robes, and she rose as Headmistress. And other than almost passing out when she stood to be applauded by the crowd, she’d survived. When the ceremony finished, couples rushed to the dance floor, and she stuck Ainsley back to her side, asking her to please stay. She scoped for a chance for escape. But every eye in the place was on her. One dance. She could stomachone dance.
Dancing partners lined up, her House’s finest and brightest ladies and gentlemen. But no one approached her. She didn’t approach them either. Instead she chewed her nail down to the nub. The thought of enduring their conversation, their questions, their touching, made the world swim.
“They’re waiting for you to choose,” her maid said. The music hung suspended in the air.
“Bring mehim.” She pointed at Yagrin, who’d become a wallflower. Ainsley’s mouth pursed in thought.
“Forgive me for asking, Headmistress. But is he yourperson? Every Headmistress has a person. Even your mother—”
“Please don’t finish that sentence.”
A single brow rose on Ainsley’s face.
Nore shifted on her feet. “That is not needed. I just, um,ifI had a person, which Ido not, it would make logical sense to be him. Do you understand?”
“Oh, yes.” Ainsley’s lips puckered. “I think I understand.”
“Just get him for the dance.”
Her maid hurried off, and in moments Yagrin’s hand slipped into Nore’s for a promenade around the dance floor. But when she pressed her body against his, holding him tightly, it stole her next breath. They swayed as the melody of the song began, easy and soft. Their chests were pressed so close, Nore could feel his heart beating for both of them.
“You’re nervous,” she said.
Hunger unfurled in his eyes as the tempo grew peppier. Nore danced like there was no one around them, following his feet, the direction in his hips. She got lost in the glee of the movement. It was easy. Everything was always so easy with him.
Yagrin spun her out, then back under his arm until her back hit his chest. His breath warmed her shoulder as he hugged around her for a four count. They swayed left to right, right to left.
When the refrain of the song called for their bodies to separate, it felt like another piece of her had been ripped away. The song dashed to the finish with a skittering harmony. His palm rested on the small of her back as they glided with the music from one step to the next. As if she hadn’t just lived through the horrors of her brother trying to kill her and being locked in a prison as Headmistress for the rest of her life. That was one of the things she enjoyed most about being with Yagrin. The weight of her life at Dlaminaugh disappeared.
The moment the music stopped, Nore pulled away from him. But he held on to her fingers as they turned and bowed to the applauding crowd. Once the dance floor swarmed with other couples, she took her chance to leave, tearing her fingers out of his grip.
“Where are you going?”
“I told you.”
“I don’t understand. The dance. Did it mean nothing?”
“It was—” She exhaled. “A much-needed reprieve. Thank you, Yagrin.”
But the hurt in his eyes hadn’t faded. She turned to go.
“You told me you’dtryto remember,” he shouted at her back.
