Page 142 of House of Marionne

FORTY-FOUR

“Quell, what’s happened?”

I rock back and forth, trying to erase the last few hours. I hug myself all over, tears rushing harder. I can’t stay here anymore. I’ve pushed past any reasonable reason to make it work. Even if she doesn’t discover my secret, even if I finish, I can’t be the heir to a monster.

“Quell, please, you’re in so much distress.”

I don’t look at him. I can’t move. He joins me on the ground in the dirt and puts his jacket around my shoulders.

“What happened?”

The words forming on my tongue don’t make sense.

“So many deaths.”

He shakes me and I startle. I meet his eyes and throw my arms around his broad shoulders, wondering if they’re strong enough to hold the weight he’s asking me to put on him. The world sways. He pulls me tighter to him.

“Whatever it is, I will fix it.”

“You can’t.”

He pulls us apart, smoothing my face with his hands.

“Try me.”

“Jordan, my grandmother . . .” I choke on words that want to come out. That want to be told so I don’t have to carry this horrid burden on my own. “I think she’s responsible for all the missing members.”

He narrows his eyes in disbelief.

“I found death registries in a locked cabinet in her room.” My voice cracks. I can’t believe my ears. The next words come out mixed with sobs, but I’ve opened this well now and I can’t turn it off. “Nore. The two girls from your House. And hundreds of others. I don’t think it has anything to do with toushana.”

I look for shock or anger or something in Jordan’s expression but find neither.

“She just announced that Nore—” Jordan stands, his lips thin with doubt.

I pace. “We have to get out of here. Leave with me. Let’s just go anywhere, we can find my mom and sleep in the woods for all I care.”

I stop and he hugs me tighter. “There has to be an explanation. I know Headmistress Marionne to be a woman of great moral fortitude.”

I wrap myself in his words even though they reek of foolish optimism. I know what I saw. He strokes my hair and I try to slow my pulse, but the ache in my bones rises, threatening. I pull away from him, just in case.

“If this is true,” he goes on, “she can be held accountable.”

“No, Jordan, no one is going to hold Darragh Marionne accountable.”

“We can’t leave.” He scrubs a palm down his face. “Dear Sfenti, I pray you are wrong about this.”

“I’m not!”

His mouth bows with skepticism. “If you’re right, the Order needs us now more than ever. You see that, don’t you?”

“I didn’t come here to get into a war with my grandmother.”

“There’s a way things are done. We honor the Order, Quell, at all costs. Listen to me. Do you trust me?”

“Listen to me!” I reach for him, but the ache in my bones spasms and my arm goes cold just as he grabs it. Fear shudders through me at Jordan holding on to my arm as my toushana burns through me with frigid chill. I try to pull back but his grip on my arm tightens, his stare widening.

“Let me go.” I snatch away and put distance between us, hoping I was fast enough. Hoping he was distracted enough to miss the abnormal shift in my body temperature. But his expression is frozen with something I’ve never seen in him.

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