Page 148 of Fortress of Ambrose
Her hands only grazed rocks and broken sticks. “No.” The moment she said it, something cold brushed her fingers. “Wait.” She grabbed hold of the gummy substance and pulled. Out came a suit of skin with hollow eyes and rotting flesh.
Yagrin stumbled backward. Nore surveyed the body, more intrigued than shocked. A magic that could kill the corpse’s spirit and leave the shell of a person behind. How did the Anatomics work? She had so many questions. Though she didn’t covet it, magic could befascinating.
“Jordan. It’s just like he described. The Dragunhead—” Yagrin was white as a ghost.
“We should get out of here.” She kicked dirt back over the desiccated body and pulled a stiff Yagrin back to Daring. She rode in the front of the saddle, and he hugged her. As they fled back to the house, she asked, “What about the Dragunhead?”
He held her tighter. “He also uses this magic.”
Ellery wasn’t working alone. She kicked her horse’s flank harder, white-knuckling the reins. She needed to think. Their list of enemies only seemed to be growing. And this one terrified her.
Fifty-Nine
Jordan
I gape at shadows dripping from my fingertips as the veil settles against the wooden doors to the ballroom. Everyone’s stares burn my skin. But all I can see is the house where I grew up in a heap of ash.
My father is dead.
And my mother is—
The thought chokes me. My brother is as good as gone. And now Dexler’s been caught up in this mess. Worst of all, the life I wanted for Quell is slipping through my hands. Toushana pumps so steadily in my veins, the world’s colors dull. The Dragunhead was in Tippets Square that day, watching, delighted because he knew. Hemustbe stopped.
“Jordan, what are you doing?” Quell rushes over.
“Someone in this room is working with the Dragunhead. They’re cornered now.”
“Some of these people weknowweren’t—” she starts, but my voice booms above hers as cold cracks in my chest.
“Maezre Dexler has been attacked, and a precious artifactfullof the Sphere’s proper magic has been stolen from Quell’s room.” The room gasps. “No oneis leaving until we find the thief!” The widening eyes speed up the thud of my heart. If they fear, they will cooperate. If they cooperate, wewillfind the traitor. I won’t take risks with Quell’s life.
“Form a line, shoulder to shoulder. Children, too.”
Ube shoves himself between a mother and her son. The liar, backstabber, dead man. I know he’s behind this.Make a memorable example, and no one will forget it.I can hear my aunt’s voice, and cold hums in me.He should die in the most painful way.I never trusted him, but I didn’t expect him to outsmart me right under my nose.Because you’re weak.My father’s chastising haunts me.
I try to push away the dark thoughts, but there is truth to them. I am weak. I should have known to keep a close eye on him. On everyone. I was too merciful at the start.Mercy is best used as a weapon. My aunt’s rearing scrapes at my skull, and the toushana billowing around me thickens.
I glare at Ube. Fairness is a perception. A powerful one. We still have to run a successful extraction with these people, and it’s important to Quell to smooth things over. Instead of marching right up to him and ripping his head off his neck, I start at the beginning of the line and take my time, approaching the first person, a middle-aged woman in a mint-green dress with silver stitching and a big, fluffy skirt.
“Empty your pockets.”
“My gown does not have pockets.”
“I thought all dresses have pockets.”
“They should, but they do not.”
“Strange. Lift your arms.”
She does, and her dress bust is fitted to her so tightly, there is no place she could hide a jeweled headband.
“You.” I indicate to a girl with thin, long braids beside her. “What is your name?”
“Imalia.”
“Imalia, pat her down.”
She hesitates but hurries over. What happened to Dexler can’t happen to anyone else, especially Quell.
