Page 145 of House of Marionne

I sit straighter, hanging on her every word.

“That night, I lied to my mother, said it was a migraine, and buried myself on the bathroom floor. It took some time, but I figured out how to manage it.”

“You have . . . toushana . . .” The words break something in me.

“Closer to the fire, dear. It really will help.”

I scoot closer to the heat, trying to untangle what this truth means.

“It’s been my life’s work to keep it secret and create a fortress around myself and my House. You’re lucky yours has shown itself before Third Rite. We should have some options.”

I swallow, gaping at the woman I thought I knew.

“My duty is to House of Marionne. Not the Order. That was my mother’s mistake.” She lets out a huge breath and meets my eyes, hers full of prideful defiance. “So I added a bit of magic to Third Rite for all who debut from my House. Whenever someone plunges their dagger into their heart here, it will bind them not only to their magic, but to this House, in servitude.”

My pulse quickens.

“Plume coming over from House Ambrose had its benefits. Nabbed one of their best-kept discoveries—a way to cloak the ceremony stage with reverse tracer magic.”

“Tracing magic . . .” I hold my chest, remembering the silver flame. “How?”

“A tracer on one person tethers them to another, allowing them to go to them wherever they are when they sense extreme emotion. House Ambrose stretched the bounds of that magic somehow to trace many at once and reverse the direction. Thanks to Third Rite, I can summon any of my graduates and they will come to me in an instant. They are tethered to this House. That way I can use them, their magic, how I see fit and against whom I see fit.” She tidies the collar of her dress.

I scoot away from her.

“The Sphere is under great duress, Quell. And with the tensions between the Houses, finger pointing is only growing worse. The Headmistresses have banded together before to commit atrocities. I wouldn’t put it past them to do it again. Should the House relationships come to blows, Marionne will stand with an army at her back.”

Chills skitter up my arms. “None of that explains all those names of people who have died. In your books.” I point a shaky finger. “You tried to hide your dirt, but I saw it all.”

“See, that all started with an accident. I am a Cultivator, dear. When I first took this post, inductees would enroll here and I would work with them. But my toushana would on occasion be deposited by mistake. I couldn’t very well let it grow in them.” She shifts in her seat. “I’ve had to clean up things a bit.”

She’s so close to me I can smell her. She is honey and lavender, jasmine, and yet her heart is made of rot.

“But I hired Dexler and now she does the hands-on cultivating. Not me. I did that to fix this, can’t you see? To stop being the one working directly with inductees.”

I shake my head, not believing my ears.

“I had hoped your mother would fill that role, but alas . . . she left.”

“Because she didn’t want the Order to kill me!”

“Your mother has never understood that I am on her side.”

“And I wonder why? The Perl girls and Nore weren’t even in your House!”

Grandmom crosses her legs, and I can feel her burgeoning irritation.

“Nore had toushana, Quell, and I think you know it.”

I look away.

“So there’s more than one liar sitting here.”

“We are not the same.” I don’t know what she’s playing at, but nothing she can say makes this okay. I refuse. “You didn’t have to hurt her.”

“I didn’t hurt Nore.”

“She’s in your death log. I saw her name.”

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