Page 166 of Fortress of Ambrose
From Beaulah’s bedroom, Yaniselle’s body could be seen swaying against the iron railing of the second-floor balconies. It felt intentional. Adola pulled the curtain and returned to her aunt’s bedside, where the Healer was tending to her. She didn’t see who’d hung her there, but this had her cousin’s fingerprints all over it.
The room reeked of sickness. Adola didn’t know what death smelled like, but she was fairly sure this was it. Her aunt’s Healer removed the cooling cloth from Beaulah’s forehead, replacing it with a new one. Adola poured the tea, waiting for the meeting to start. Her aunt couldn’t wander very far these days. So she insisted the meetings took place in person at her bed.
When her Healer finished tending her fever, Beaulah Perl rose to sit on the edge of her bed. Adola rushed her walking stick to her, and she thanked her with a stern look. Appreciation only a niece to Beaulah Perl would recognize.
“Take my arm.” Adola held it out at her aunt, who slapped it away. Beaulah pulled her robe tighter across her body and smoothed the edges of her hair before carefully making her way from the bed to the sitting lounge near the fire adjacent to her bedroom. Adola followed closely behind.
“My tea,” her aunt demanded as the Healer departed.
The others were already in their seats. Ellery Ambrose. The Dragunhead.
“Nice of you to be here, Ellery.” She petted his arm. “That Hargrove girl was never right for you.”
“I quite agree,” he said.
“And, Sal, it is nice of you to come all this way,” her aunt said, gesturing for their guests to take their teacups. She was determined to convince everyone that she would survive this sickness. Adola wasn’t so sure. Beaulah fell ill shortly after the Sphere broke. Adola brought in every renowned Healer in her House, but none of them recognized what was plaguing her.
Beaulah shooed them all away, certain they were inept. She called on her Healer who had served her since she was born instead. No one had been allowed to tend to her since. Adola was thrust into House duties immediately. More forcefully than she would have wished. She had no love for her aunt, but Headshipwouldbe hers eventually. She was committed to proving she could be trusted.
“It’s no problem. I am sorry to hear about your—” The Dragunhead gestured to the body hanging beyond the window. Beaulah fell into her seat and reached for her tea, which Adola set in her hands carefully. Her aunt drank, exhaled, and waved a flippant hand at the Dragunhead.
“She was a tortured girl, her own worst enemy. I knew she’d hang one day. It was never wise of you to trust her to spy for you.”
Ellery hadn’t moved. He was always uncomfortable during these meetings. Just then they caught eyes, and he reached for her hand. Adola set her fingers in his. He stroked her skin, and she remembered to smile.
“It sends a strong message,” Adola said. “They are onto us.” She hadn’t felt like sending Yaniselle to betray Jordan under the guise of being kicked out of House of Perl was thebestplan. Even sending her with Yaniselle’s secret thorned rose column tattooed on her wouldn’t help. Jordan was too suspicious of a person to fall for that. He and Yaniselle also had a complicated history.
“Sending her after my nephew will either work convincingly or blow up,” her aunt had said. She was right about that, at least.
The Dragunhead set his cup down. “Not to worry. Yaniselle got me what I needed to know most. Beyond that, she was a decoy.”
Adola sat up. She’d never imagined herself in the middle of a feud over what the magical world would become. But she intended to have her own House in the new world, whatever it took. She was done being in her aunt’s shadow. If she’d learned anything from her, it was that to get what she wanted she had to take it.
“Aunt Beaulah,” she said. “More tea?”
Sixty-Seven
Nore
Nore climbed the steps to the Caelum. She snaked her way through the library and rapped her fist on Winkel’s door. The door parted, revealing the priest in a shockingly bright blue robe. He was chatting with Kimper and Pizor. They adjusted their drab gray linen robes as they rose from their seats before excusing themselves with only contemptuous glances in Nore’s direction.
“Is everything alright, child?” He let her in.
She had been to Winkel’s private quarters countless times. When she was little, sometimes he’d let her hide in there to get away with her mischief a while longer. But that morning, the mirth in Winkel’s expression was replaced with a frown.
“I’m sorry for coming without notice.” She sat on his kneeler by the fire and a large window overlooking the ice garden. On the ledge of the window was a mug-sized ring of condensation. His hand trembled as he poured her a cup of tea.
“How can I pray for you, my dear?”
“Iwantanswers.” She sipped the warm drink, and he sat on a bench beside her. She felt bad for snapping at him. “Sorry. You’ve been watching the forest, too?”
“I pray day and night for whatever is afoot in there.”
“Ellery is determined to get rid of the ancestors in case they try toprotect me. And the Dragunhead is helping him bykillingthe dead.” She watched him for surprise. “Necrantomy.”
Winkel straightened his glasses and strode to his shelf. His finger trailed rows of spines. “Hmph. Must have lent it out.”
“What is it?”
