Page 95 of Fortress of Ambrose
“I don’t see the point in staying here if Zecky’s gone. That means the work is gone, which means the money and food will dry up, too.”
“You’re promising a lot,” a younger girl chimes in. “What will you require of us in exchange?”
Chatter erupts, echoing the question.
“You’re going to help me save magic.” A collective gasp sweeps across the safe house. “You have the research, the skills, I’ve seen them.”
“Will we be paid?”
“Your pay is the honor of participating in making history. I’m also overlooking any of your past crimes.” I can hardly swallow, saying that aloud. “The law says you should all be killed for using dark magic here in secret. For operating in secret at all.” No one speaks. Quell shakes her head subtly, and I worry I’ve gone too far. But they should understand this is a mercy. “If the Dragunhead found you here, it would end very differently. Ube, is that your name, sir?”
“Yes.”
“Are you a leader here?”
“No.”
“Maybe you should be. I saw what you can do.”
His sister looks at him. Ube doesn’t respond, but he pulls back his shoulders ever so slightly, standing taller, and it’s the final victory I need.He joins me at the front to stand beside me. Many follow him, including his sister, whose gaze is still pinned to the floor. I look for Quell and expect to find her as pleasantly surprised as I am. But she’s not engaged with the crowd at all anymore.
She stares into the distance at nothing in particular, somewhere else completely.
When we emerge from beneath the church, the body has been taken away and the square is refilling with tourists. The hair on my arms stands. Abby and Yani join the rest of us as I scan the perimeter.
Across the square, leaning against a lamppost, is a familiar spindly man with long gray hair pulled over his shoulder in a braid. He wears a fine coat covered in House sigils.
He tips his head in my direction.
My heart stops.
The Dragunhead.
I stagger backward and bump into Quell, who is giving out instructions.
“Quell.”
She stares quizzically, but when I turn back to the lamppost, there is no one there. I blink.
“Jordan? What is it?”
“I thought I saw the Dragunhead,” I tell her under my breath.
A divot creases Quell’s brow as she scans the area.
“It’s nothing. I must have imagined it.”
She eyes me strangely before taking another look around.
“Let’s get out of here.”
Navigating the cityusing the airports like Knox taught us makes getting the large crowd South much easier than I expect. I watch closely for being followed, but the commute is smooth. Seeing the Dragunhead still haunts me. If it was him, why wouldn’t he approach ordosomething?Perhaps Ididimagine it. The mood of travel is as riddled with excitement as it is with fear and mourning.
This is all new. Zecky was special to them. And I killed him.
I want to reassure Quell, but she seems to have moved on, laser-focused on getting to Chateau Soleil as fast as possible. When we reach the estate, its overgrown hedges and walls of black roses have not changed. Quell gets us inside easily enough. But she hasn’t spoken to me or Abby the entire trek back.
“Is something wrong?” I ask her as she holds back the gate’s spindles, allowing the crowd through.
