Page 9 of Fortress of Ambrose
“I’m not your typical Ambroser.”
Yagrin’s lip twitched. A pair sauntered by, flipping through a stack of books. When the coast was clear, she pulled out the journal and set it on the table and they both reached to unlatch the strap at the same time, fingers brushing.
She snatched hers back. He did, too.
“Go on,” he said. With a twist, the brass hook opened for her, and his heart skipped a beat. For once, thoughts of the Sphere bleeding out weren’t swarming in his head. Instead he could see a nest of dark red hair shrouding a face bright with laughter. He could hear her laugh deep in his soul. A laugh that set his heart on fire. A laugh that once comforted like a hug but now haunted him like a ghost. In the Unmarked world, she wasn’t consumed with anyone or anything, other than what brought her happiness. She lived wild and free.
And she died because of me.
Yagrin tightened his fist as Nore opened the journal. She flipped pages, noting the dates on each one. The pages weren’t long entries as he expected,more of a smattering of one-liners. Some pages had sketches with a word or phrase next to it. And a date. Everything had a date.
He found a page with a sketch of a girl with large eyes. Next to it was the wordconundrum. And today’s date. Nore peered over to see what he was looking at, her fiery hair grazing his arm. It sent tingles through him. It wasn’t the same shade as Red’s, and Nore didn’t look anything like her, really. But the touch was enough to send shock waves through him as he stood on the precipice of possibility that he could see Red again. Nore pulled her hair over her shoulder. He cleared his throat.
“That one is from the tattoo shop,” she said. “He drew it while we were talking.” She turned the page and gasped.Scroll research.Nore’s mouth pushed sideways. Yagrin put some distance between them and blinked, staring at the words. The letters had been traced several times.
A simple title, in minuscule handwriting, inconspicuously placed at the bottom corner of the page. Like an afterthought. There were comments on the weather. Some doodles of a rose garden. The next several pages were mostly missing. Black and jagged as if they’d been burned out.
“There’s something here.”
Yagrin watched Nore trace a constellation drawn on the page. Each of its four corners connected to a sketch: Flowers. A wolf’s head. A book. And a drama mask. Her tongue poked her cheek.
“There’s some connection between the Houses and the Scroll. This means something.”
“Does it, or is he just an amateur artist?”
She slammed it shut. “We have to get him to tell us what it means.”
“Did he say where he was going?”
“He did when he asked me to dinner.”
Yagrin didn’t know what he was expecting her to say, but that wasn’t it. So be it. “Where is the dinner and what time? I’ll make him.”
“You’re going to hurt him.” There was a lilt of surprise in her tone.
“He’s going to tell us what we want to know.”
“You don’t strike me as a violent person. There has to be another way.”
“I could care less what a little heiress thinks of me.” He pulled out and flipped the Dragun coin in his pocket. Just because they’d been working together for weeks didn’t mean she knew him.
Last Season, she was a name on a page, an invisible heir to a House he couldn’t give two shits about. Oh, there were all kinds of rumors about the heir to House of Ambrose and her overprotective mother. Some said she was sickly. Others thought she was conceited so she separated herself from everyone. There were otherstrangerumors, like her mother had possessed her magically. And it went horribly wrong, which forced her to keep to herself. But House of Ambrose was a place for the magic obsessed. It was thelastplace or people he ever thought about.
Nore’s lips pursed and a challenge glinted in her gray stare. But she only turned and gestured for him to follow.
Dublin hadn’t wandered far.
They found him interrogating a host outside a restaurant. He was exactly as the media described him: neat, long hair, warm tan skin that oozed withask me where I’ve been, and a tone that dripped with condescension.
Nore folded her arms. “I don’t think he should see me.”
“Stay. You will alarm him.”
As if on cue, Dublin turned and gaped at Nore.
“You!”He strode toward them, glaring at her with a dark expression. Something sharp flashed, hidden in his hand.
Yagrin reached a protective arm backward. The hostess yelped, pulling out her phone.
