Page 180 of Fortress of Ambrose
“I need to speak with Quell.” Nore squeezed Yagrin’s arm again. She was up to something. He didn’t want her to go with him into the forest anyhow. It would be dangerous without magic.
“Send your Draguns,” he told her. “Send the dead. Send whatever you have.”
Nore kissed him before taking off. Jordan and Yagrin stood in silence.
“You’re going to make it,” Yagrin told him.
“If I don’t, tell Mother—”
“Youwill.”
He slapped his brother on the back affectionately before taking off toward the estate.
Yagrinloitered inthe ice garden until a swath of dead came, along with three Draguns, two young men and a girl with silvery-streaked dark hair. At first he was curious how Nore had convinced the ancestors, but he realized, as they marched toward the ominous quaking trees, that they shared an enemy.
“What are we looking at, exactly?” the silvery-haired girl asked. He explained what they saw the other night and that he wasn’t sure how many Darkbearers there would be, or what Ellery and Adola would throw at them.
“Whatareyou sure of?” one of the Draguns asked.
“That if we fail, this House falls.”
The blanket of snow made the trek across the estate painfully slow. They didn’t speak as they entered the forest. Yagrin’s boots were frozen. Ellery’s camp was a tent made of stones and draped fabric. A trench of fire had been dug around it, creating one narrow entryway. Light glowed inside the tent. But it was what was around the campsite that raised the hair on Yagrin’s arms.
There were bodies everywhere.
Collapsed on the ground, folded over logs, as if they’d died suddenly, just sitting up. Their faces were purpled, mouths frothing. He smelled an overturned cup, and it reeked of something sour.Poison.
Commotion in the tent at the center of their camp shook Yagrin.
“I thought you said we are their only enemies,” a Dragun asked him.
Yagrin signaled for them to quiet. The Draguns opened their hands, drawing toushana from the air. Yagrin had them form up around the tent, unsure if Ellery or Adola tried to escape, which direction they’d go. The dead cloaked them all in shadow. They were as prepared to confront Adola, Ellery, and however many Darkbearers were in there as they were going to be.
Metal clanged.
Someone grunted.
“Now!” Yagrin screamed, ripping the tent open.
He froze.
“Oh my word,” someone said behind him. Yagrin ducked inside, trying to make sense of the horror in front of him.
Beaulah was hunched forward at a table, eyes lolled in her head, foam dripping from her purpled mouth. Her pale skin was tinged with death. Inches from her fingers was an overturned teacup on the table.
Across from her was Ellery, who didn’t move either. His glassy eyes were widened in shock. He was dead.
Adola sat in the final seat at the table. She rose and broke the silence.
“Cousin, I hoped Nore would be with you. Please accept this gesture of goodwill from thenewHouse of Perl.”
Seventy-Four
Quell
No one in the extraction room breathes as Erla connects the Dragunhead and Jordan with spindly tubes. Light dims outside, and the study lounge turned lab glows with firelight. No one sits on the concrete armchairs or pores over the walls of books. Every person lingers on the perimeter of the room, watching Jordan and the Dragunhead sitting on two tables several feet apart.
“Lie back, please,” Erla tells them both.
