Page 112 of Fortress of Ambrose
“I’ve heard about the Sphere.”
“And you’re mentioning it to me because?”
“Well, your brother is at the center of those rumors.”
He straightened in his seat. “I despise games. If you have a question, ask it.”
She set down her teacup. “I apologize if I’ve offended you.”
Yagrin’s fork froze on the way to his mouth.
She let out a long exhale. “I’m still relearning social graces. It’s been so long. Love is the first emotion to go.” Her gaze moved beyond him. “Then it’s guilt and shame. Sadness is a funny one. It would come intermittently, but it would never fully go away.” She dabbed her mouth with a napkin and stood. “I only meant to say that I hope your brother is doing okay. If he’s anything like you, I will hold him up in prayer.”
Yagrin wasn’t breathing.
“You have been very good to my daughter when many were not. Myself included. I may never earn her trust again. But from what I’ve seen in the last few days, if she has you by her side, she’ll be alright.”
Words stuck in his throat. After staring blankly, he managed to say, “How do you know how I feel—”
“When you go without love for so long and then suddenly you can feel it again, younevermistake what it does and does not look like. It’s inthe way you look out for her.” She tapped her ear and pointed to the hall where he and Ainsley were just speaking. “If you’ll excuse me.”
Yagrin watched her go, speechless. He finished the rest of his food in silence, ruminating over her mother’s words. When he finished, Nore still hadn’t showed. Now he was worried. But he stewed his anxiety by reading in the Caelum for one hour. Then another.
By midnight, his thoughts of Nore led him inside the main building. The halls were far from silent, students wandering to and fro with arms full of books. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but something in him was unsettled. When he spotted a girl with luscious red hair curled up in a lounge chair over a pile of leather books, he had to look twice to be sure it wasn’t her. He wandered near Nore’s quarters and spotted Draguns outside her door. They staggered their stance as he passed. And that stopped him in his tracks.
“Mr.Wexton? What are you doing out of bed so late?” Ainsley appeared behind him, holding a flat pillow.
“Why are there Draguns outside her room?”
“Just Headmistress business.”
Shouting voices behind the doors rattled his pulse. He marched up to them, despite Ainsley’s lightning-fast grip on his arm.
“Open the doors.”
“You know we can’t do that,” one of the Draguns said. Yagrin thought he might recognize him.
“Mr.Wexton, please. If Headmistress catches me disobeying a direct order, I’ll be in such trouble.”
“I will ask once more,” Yagrin said.
“I don’t open the door unless—” the Dragun started.
Something crashed inside Nore’s bedroom, shattering, and it sent ice skidding up his spine.
Yagrin summoned toushana, and streams of cold answered in a sputter. His hands filled with weak shadows. He focused on the icy feeling to grow the dark magic, but it didn’t swell. The Draguns reached for theirmagic as well, but their hands came up empty. Yagrin took the second of distraction and shoved his fist up the nose of one and whipped his elbow against the head of the other. Then he shoved his way inside. Blood drained from his body at what he found. Nore stood over her bed with a lamp base heaved over her shoulder.
“If we could just try—” some fellow in her bed, wearing only heart-dotted underwear, was saying, pulling at her wrist.
As she swung the lamp base at him, he ducked, scrambling out of the covers, eyes wide.
“Get out!” she screamed.
“No!” the intruder yelled back.
Yagrin noticed some kind of rope in his hands. Questions flooded Yagrin, but his body was well ahead of his mind. He dashed over and shoved the fellow to the ground before climbing on top of him. Yagrin slammed his fist into his face. He groaned.
“Did he hurt you?” he asked, hopping up.
