Page 68 of Fortress of Ambrose
“I’m staying until everything here is destroyed. You should go.” I pull on my magic and grab the first plant on the next row, one of dozens still left.
“I’m not leaving you to do this alone.” He says something else, but as I approach the next row, its blooms turn toward me.
All at once.
I take another step toward the flowers. Their stems lengthen before my eyes, reaching toward me, and my heart skips a beat.
What if destruction isn’t the answer?
I extend a hand, and a petal grazes my fingertip. I get close enough for the roses to explore me, slinking along my arms. One vine encircles me timidly, trailing along my chest, wrapping itself around my body. Another vine follows, more confident than the blooms before it. Then a whole section of blossoms stretches in my direction, reaching for and winding around me.
Suddenly everything stills.
The ground rumbles, and the earth beneath my feet shifts.
I gasp.
Jordan clings to my side as the ground opens up.
A gold chest inlaid with fleur-de-lis is buried deep below.
“Lift on three. One, two—” We dust it off. A thorny vine hugs the chest like a chain. Jordan touches it, and its thorns lengthen to razor-sharp tips. But the lock dissolves in my grasp, and the chest pops open.
Inside is a ring of gleaming brass keys.
Jordan tries hisbest to convince me to go to bed as we reenter the estate. The morning sky ripples a soft blue with ribbons of orange. I race up the stairs. These keys fit into a certain-shaped lock I’ve only ever seen on the private family floor of the estate. The third floor, where my grandmother’s quarters are.
“Quell.” He takes the stairs two at a time to keep up with me. “You haven’t slept or eaten in hours. Your grandmother died to save you, but she was also full of trickery. What kind of legacy is she roping you into if you use those keys?”
I stop.
“You want to be free. What are the chances that key is a way to that?”
He isn’t wrong. More harrowing truths about my grandmother, about the Order, could be on the other side of those doors. Some way to tie me further into a life I never wanted. But I need to know. If I don’t, I’ll always wonder what my grandmother really wanted from me.
I feel his love. The ache in him to truly hold me rams in my chest. He would protect me from anything if he could. Even myself.
“Thank you. But I have to do this, and I need to face whatever it is alone.”
My hand is on the banister. He strokes it once more, gently. “I don’t trust her or any of her secrets.”
“She left this for me to find.”
“She’s doneterriblethings.”
“Yeah, well, so have we.” She was complicated. But she was a part of me. If she’s made a way to help us after her death, it’s my responsibility to find it. “The entire world wants what’s living inside your body, Jordan. It’s just us, and a few others, againsteveryone. We need as much help as we can get. Even from a monster.” I leave him there.
And because I know him, I know he won’t move from that step until he sees me come back down.
The doors onthe third floor are locked. I start with the first door and slip in a key. The room is bare, with patterned floral wallpaper and a stale smell. The light switch doesn’t work anymore, but the window provides enough for me to see. There is a small wardrobe in the closet. I try the next bedroom, but it is completely empty.
I inspect three more rooms before I come to one piled with dusty furniture. There are labeled boxes stacked to the ceiling on one side of the room. And a bed, dresser, and small side table arranged to be used on the other side. The closet is full of old toys and storybooks with brittle pages.
But the strangest thing about the boxes in the bedroom is that none of them are taped closed. Several are propped open, as if they were recently rummaged through. On top of one box there is a neatly folded soft pink baby blanket embroidered with fleur-de-lis in golden thread. When I flip it over, I gasp.
R
Rhea, short for Rheanne.My mother.This was my mother’s room.
