Page 118 of House of Marionne

“You have the oath in your purse in case you get stuck?”

“Yep.”

“Duct tape and pins?”

She pulls out a flat fold of tape and pins from her bag. “Wardrobe-malfunction-ready, yep.”

“Lips?”

“Painted.”

“Diadem?”

“Polished.” She tilts her head down, and I double-check.

“Boobs?”

“Pushed together.”

“Okay, you’re definitely ready.”

“Oh, Quell.” She throws her arms around me. “Promise you’ll come visit. A year is a long time. But the Healer facility where I’m interning allows visitors, so you have to come.”

The reality that this room won’t ring with Abby’s voice tomorrow night twists me in a knot. I’m going to miss her. “I will do my best.” But the truth is it’s probably easier this way. That she leaves first. Because I don’t know where I’m headed after my own Cotillion.

Someone knocks at the door.

I open it, and three cameras flash at once.

“Oh, sorry. You want her,” I say, ducking out of the way and blinking away the white spots.

Mrs. Feldsher rushes in with a bunch of other people who all resemble Abby. Their arms are full of flowers, and her father’s face shines with a sleek mask. I back up as they swarm her with cheers and look for Mynick.

“Whoa, watch it.” It’s Mynick I’ve backed into as he comes through the door.

“Abs, we should probably get going,” Mr. Feldsher says, before checking his mask in the mirror.

“See you two out there,” Abby says as she and her family hurry out the door.

“Hey, thanks for the invite.” Mynick offers his arm. “Shall we?”

“Why, thank you,” I say, taking it, mocking the formality of it all.

He snickers. “Thanks again for doing this. I owe you one.”

“I’ll be sure to think of a way you can repay me.”

By telling me all you know about Nore Ambrose.

* * *

The Grand Ballroom is decked out in hues of blush and gold. Arched windows have been sheathed in shiny fabric that cascades to the floor. Everything shimmers.

There are six chairs on the small center stage but only five daggers. I skim the program.

“Shelby’s missing.”

“Who?” Mynick asks, snaking his way between the tables toward the one marked with Abby’s surname.

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