Page 105 of Fortress of Ambrose
“Aren’t I the person who makes the rules now?”
Ainsley blushed, and it gave Nore an idea. Her hair might be straight as a board, but she bit her lip and pulled the servant’s cap off Ainsley’s hair. Dark natural curls cascaded down her back. Her maid gasped. Nore grabbed some color from the beets on her leftover dinner plate and smoothed it on both of their cheeks, then a little bit on their lips. It wasn’t exactly make-up like she’d worn as Red. There wasn’t any of that at Dlaminaugh. The more plain the outside, the richer within, was thelieher House boasted. The light color on their cheeks could be mistaken for a deep blush.
“NowI’m ready.”
“This is scandalous,” Ainsley whispered.
Nore grinned. “Isn’t it?” She roped Ainsley’s arm around hers and opened the door to her room, where the dead waited for her. She and Ainsley walked between them, their stares like daggers dragged across her skin. When she turned the corner, she exhaled. Yagrin, her mother, and a pair of House Draguns were waiting for her.
Isla gasped at the sight of her and offered her a wrapped box. “You’re breathtaking.”
“Thank you, Mother. If you’ll excuse me.” She walked past her and stopped at Yagrin.
“Is that blush on your cheeks?” he asked.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You have to be very careful hanging out with this one,” he told Ainsley. “She’ll get you in a world of trouble.”
Ainsley pressed her lips together, forbidding herself to smile.
“How did you sleep?” Yagrin asked as they walked. The dead followed like the train of a ceremonial gown.
“Fine.” Memories of her head against his chest flitted through her mind. “And you?”
“I dreamed of you.”
Nore looked away.
“Would you like to hear about it?”
“You must enjoy frustrating yourself,” she said.
Ainsley’s gaze darted between them.
“Would you say it’s a hobby?” Nore asked.
“Yes. One I’m really good at.” He smirked.
“Well, I have enough hobbies, so I’ll leave that one with you.”
Ainsley’s brows kissed the longer she listened to their conversation. When they reached the ballroom, Yagrin kept talking, but Nore could no longer hear him. She forced a smile, taking in the space. Hundreds of metal chairs were in long rows, nearly all filled with guests from the House, their families. There were simple reception tables draped in gray. No flowers. No frills, as if the entire ceremony was drained of color. And yet this was the finest she’d ever seen the ballroom decorated.
Her palms grew slick. A knot cinched between her shoulders.
“Nore?” The old voice spun her around. Priest Winkel made his way toward her on his cane. Priest Kimper was right behind him. Of each of the three priests, Winkel was the one who always snuck her candies before dinner and brought her surprises from his travels. He was Priest to the Sage—a master craftsman and skilled warrior god with a deep value of truth and law—spending half the moon’s cycle in prayers and the other half traveling to study cutting-edge magical research. Priest Kimpercommuned with the Wielder—a female god associated with war and fate, foretelling doom, death, and victory. Kimper was an odd woman of few words. But she had a booming voice when she spoke. She passed Nore roughly with no more than a head nod before taking her seat in the front row.
Nore craned for Priest Pizor, who she hardly saw growing up, and found him already seated near the front. He prayed to the Sovereign Sola Sfenti night and day. The Priests all resided in the Caelum, where the bodies of their predecessors were buried among the texts. They only left the library for work or very special occasions.
Like your sixth birthday, Winkel had said once.
“You’ve returned to us. I always knew you would.” He kissed her cheeks, and there was a little girl inside her that wanted to throw her arms around his neck and squeeze. But she only smiled politely. He slipped something into her fist discreetly before heading to his seat. A gem sparkled in her hand, changing from greens to blues depending on how the light hit it. She held it to her chest.
“Headmistress, I am going to check on things to be sure all is in order for you,” Ainsley said, and the maid hurried off before she could stop her. Completely forgetting she’d asked her to stick by her side.
“I haven’t seen you smile like that in a long time,” Yagrin said. “Is that who gave you the elephant with the trick snout that you kept on your fridge?”
There was no hiding with him anymore. It made her feel naked, exposed.
