Page 157 of House of Marionne

“Since she won’t be able to hone her skills here anymore,” he says, veiling my secret.

“But what could he possibly know about magic? He didn’t even finish.”

“Take off your shirt, Octos,” I say. “Let them see you.”

He groans but pulls at his sleeves and slips out of his shirt. Mynick’s eyes widen. There isn’t an inch of skin not covered in tally marks. Mynick’s lips purse with something he wants to say, but only silence grows between us.

“So it’s a plan, then?” I ask.

Everyone nods in agreement, and I hug Abby tight once more, thanking her before they head out. At some point I need to come clean with her fully. That’s what a friend would do. But I don’t know Mynick well enough, and I can’t bear to lose her help if I scare her.

“Thank you,” I say to Octos once Abby and Mynick are long out of sight. “I’m truly in your debt.”

“I was glad to hear you thought of me again. I meant what I said, though. We need to get you more familiar with your toushana. You don’t know what you’re up against.”

“And you do, I suppose?”

“I know enough to be dangerous.”

He digs out a piece of paper from his pocket. “This is one of the last standing safe houses. I’ll meet you there.”

“You’re not coming with me?”

“I have to take care of something first. Cloak yourself. Traveling any other way at this point isn’t safe.”

I hadn’t quite expected to be going it alone, right away. To somewhere where I know no one. “How do I cloak?”

“Lean into your toushana, urge it to make you disappear. Set your mind on where you want to go. Your magic is stronger now that you’re bound. It should do the rest.”

I nod, replaying the instructions in my head.

“Any questions?”

“No, I think I’ve got it.”

“Festina lente.”

“Careful, I’ll be careful.”

“Good. See you soon.” Octos disappears in a cloak of black. I reach for my magic and she stirs, cold and sure. I hold the address firm in my hand and take a last sullen glance at Chateau Soleil in the distance.

I suck in a breath at how it’s changed.

What was once a sprawling palatial architectural masterpiece is decrepit and old. Lights don’t sparkle from its ramparts. Instead, they are battered and caving in on themselves. I blink, and it’s like a veil has been lifted from my eyes. But the realization bleeds through like a gushing wound.

This is what Chateau Soleil always was.

I can just see it now.

Thanks to my toushana.

I close my eyes and call to her, my only trusted friend, and she answers with an iciness that’s comforting. Take me. I mutter the destination, and the world disappears in a cloud of welcomed darkness.

FIFTY-ONE

YAGRIN

One Month Later

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