Page 109 of Fortress of Ambrose
He adjusts his coat. “Uh, can’t. Not tonight.”
But before I can ask why, Ube joins us.
“You asked for me, sir?”
“I have questions about the extraction procedure. Should we bring your sister?” Jordan asks, as they depart. I’m on their heels when a shoving scuffle breaks out in the non-magical lines. I loosen my clenched fists and step in to break it up.
“What exactlyisthe problem?” I ask.
“She was trying to get ahead of me in line,” a young fellow from Zecky’s house says.
“He’s lying,” Dimara says. “She said order by first name, and becauseI know the alphabet, I stepped in front of him.”
“She never said that!”
Dexler tugs at her pearls. “If it’s not this, it’s something else. All night, spats about one thing or another. Willam’s house doesn’t care for Zecky’s. They seem to have very different ideas about coming here.” Fatigue lines Dexler’s eyes.
I scope the room and spot at least three other irritated exchanges about to implode. There are children climbing the grand piano in the hall outside the lounge and another sticking a bauble from the fireplace mantel in their pocket. “They have too much time on their hands. They need things to do. Come up with things for them to do. Please.”
“What kinds of things?”
“I don’t know, Maezre. I’msureyou can think of something. You worked so closely with my grandmother for all those years.”
“But I never worked from that perspective, ma’am. I did what I was asked. I’m no Headmistress.”
Her stare burns my skin. “I’m confident you will think of something.” I set a hand on her shoulder, hoping she knows how much I appreciate her help and how it allows me to focus on keeping magic safe. “Willam and Knox should be able to help figure out how to keep them occupied. I’ll ask them to find you.”
Dexler curtsies, and I amfinallyout of there.
The rose garden is an empty field of dirt. It feels like part of the estate is missing. Something should be planted there. I’ll mention that to Dexler, too. When I make it to the perimeter of the estate, to the outer gate, the roses greet me, blooming wider as they turn in my direction.
I run my fingers across them, pulling at a thread of cold. Toushana grazes the petals’ tips, and they swell in size. I blink. It’s the first time I’ve seen my destructive magic do somethingconstructive. I try releasing more magic. The flower expands, growing unnaturally large, twice the size of my hand, before its petals wither and die, crumbling to ash. Toushana somehow gives these roses lifeandkills them. Odd. The gate dents my periphery, and the sharp spindles run along the edge of the property like spears. The rose is thorny and sharp, but could other things take on toushana constructively without being destroyed? The iron spindles of the gate are grimy to the touch. I stream dark magic to it, fog wrapping around the iron.
And it snaps in half, creating a hole in the gate. One spindle dissolvinginto ash touches the one beside it, and it crumbles, too. I run toward it with my bare hands, trying to find some way to stop it. But by the time the magic fizzles out, it’s destroyed several feet of the gate.
I claw my skin. I came down here tostrengthenour defenses,notdestroy them.
The roses.
An idea strikes me, and I scramble to grab the vines of roses now dangling on the ground across where the gate used to be. If I can multiply them, maybe I can disguise the gap in the gate until I can find a Retentor or Shifter to repair it. The roses are delicate in my hands. I cup a bloom in my palm and smooth dark wisps of magic across it. The bloom grows, and the cinch in my chest untwists. I fill it with enough magic until it’s nearly twice its size. Then I stop. I don’t want to push my luck this time. I repeat the process with the thorns, touching them carefully; they grow in size and sharpness, lengthening to deadly tips. It takes a long while, but once I finish, a tangle of black roses, as thick as the gate, hangs between the broken edges of the gate’s frame.
It’s not perfect, but it’s something.
I need to know more about how the roses work and if there are other ways to use dark magic to help. When I turn to hurry back into the estate, a curtain in an upstairs window flutters.
Someone has been watching me.
Forty-Four
Jordan
I keep Ube two steps ahead of me as I direct him to the session room where the extraction procedure will take place. He smells like a fresh shower, but he is in the same clothes he wore the last time I saw him.
Inside, I run my hands along the walls, feeling for some kind of fortifications like steel or iron that help keep the magic contained to the room, like at Hartsboro. But the wall is just stone.
“Concerned about the procedure going wrong?” Ube says.
“I want to be prepared.” No magic will leave this room. I sit on a stool at one of the tables. Ube doesn’t move, fidgeting with the belt loop on his pants.
