Page 112 of House of Marionne

“So what did you do with your time yesterday?”

His entire tone is snappy, short, very business. I search his gaze for some explanation. Why it feels like I’m talking to my mentor instead of my really good friend, but he evades my stare, pulling at the petals on a nearby flower.

“Quell? I asked a question.”

I stiffen at his sharpness. “I’ve been putting together ideas for where I’d like to intern the year after I debut.”

“You’ll want to base that on the prestige of the position, not your interest in the work. It’s all about networking at this point. Getting to know as many powerful graduates of your House as you can. Running a House requires good relationships.”

“Where did you go this past week?”

“I can’t tell you that.”

I don’t know what I expected after not seeing him for so long, but this wasn’t it. Have I lied to myself somehow? I can still feel the sand between my toes from when he transfigured this glass house into a living dream just so I could believe in myself. The way he patiently and gently showed me how to hone my blade before my toushana ruined it. How he comes alive when we talk about books. How he listens and sits with the things I say, stewing over them as if they are a treasure. The way his eyes sparkled like a crisp spring day when he saw me pass Second Rite. I look for him, that Jordan, my friend.

But lines are carved into his expression that were not there before. He’s no more than two feet away, but it may as well be an ocean.

“Quell? Are you listening? Cotillion is in twenty days. What else have you gotten done?”

“I hosted a Tea with the other heirs, actually.”

“And? How did it go?”

“It went really well, I thought.”

“Elaborate.”

I stuff my annoyance down and answer his question because while I don’t like his shortness, I am eager to tell him. “Everyone came and had a wonderful time. Nor—” A Dragun knowing her predicament would be a death sentence. “Grandmom was very impressed as well.”

Jordan listens intently.

“I’m doing well. Even with you not here.”

“So Headmistress Marionne is pleased?”

“She is.”

“Very good. That bodes well for both of us.”

I shift in my seat, irritated. “You’re—”

“And you’ll want to snag a Vestiser early,” he says. “Fortunately my mother dabbled in fabric Shifting between Audior studies, so my tails will be tailored in time.” He fidgets with nervous energy, and it’s equally unsettling and confusing.

I stand.

He steps back.

“What’s up with you?”

“I don’t know what you mean.” He paces, and I can’t help but think it’s just an excuse to get farther away from me. “Have you started honing the rest of your enhancers? Usually you’ll pick up a few extra as gifts here and there.”

“I haven’t started, but it’s on my list.” I pick at my skin, but I’d much prefer to pull out my hair.

“And the memory work. I realize it’s a lot, but you must know the full Order history.”

“Jordan . . .”

“I recommend oral recitations, three times a day if you can.”

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