Page 67 of House of Marionne

“Five? You’ve set me up to fail!”

“Hardly. I’ve set you up to shine.”

None of my peers have to deal with this. “What do you get out of this?” It has to be more than a reputation as a good mentor.

“Who said I get anything out of it?”

“Something I’ve picked up on from being so observant is that you’re very calculated. You requested me specifically, you shadow me almost everywhere I go, now you’re pressuring me to finish well and fast. The only reason that makes sense is if my performance is somehow tied to your own.”

His brow bows up in surprise, but his chin rises in its familiar arrogance. “It doesn’t matter. You shouldn’t need a reason to push to be exemplary. You should want to be. You’re a Marionne, it’s expected.”

“I appreciate the help, but I’ve got this.”

The severe angles of his face sharpen. He steps closer.

“If you take my insistence for altruistic encouragement, you gravely mistake me, Miss Marionne.” His stare darkens. “There is much on the line here, for both of us.”

I was right. He doesn’t see me; he sees my performance. The idea of me. He pulls my chin up to his, and a stranger stares back at me. He is not just the boy who walked with me through the park. Cold and heartless, he can turn off his humanity like a light switch. He is a trained killer. Trained to hunt people like me.

“Five. Days.”

I shove his hand away and storm off.

TWENTY-ONE

“There you are!” Abby waves a paper in front of my face as I return to our room, before I lose the fight against bawling my eyes out. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” I snatch the paper from her and gasp at its swirly letters announcing she’s been cleared for Cotillion. A satin ribbon is cinched across its center, embellished with a jewel.

“Headmistress Darragh Marionne is commanded by the Council of Mothers of the Prestigious Order of Highest Mysteries to summon Abilene Grace Feldsher to an Afternoon Presentation Party at Chateau Soleil’s Annual Magnolia Ball, on Saturday, the second week of June,” I read. “Your invitation, already! Where’s the rest of them? This is only one. I want to come!”

“It’s only a sample. Duh. You have to prepare your own invites for your guests. But Headmistress formally sends one to each of us officially inviting us to be presented for membership.”

“This is so exciting. Did you tell Mynick?”

She deflates. “Yes, but Headmistress would never let an outsider escort me.” She perks up. “At least I’ll get to go to his. His House doesn’t have the same stuffy rules as Headmistress Marionne.” Abby slaps a hand over her mouth. “No offense! Please don’t tell her I said that.”

“Oh, Abby, I’m so happy for you!”

“But that’s not the best part!” She shakes me by the shoulders.

“No?”

“My name’s been circulating society, finally now that my Cotillion date is set, and look!”

She shoves a stack of envelopes addressed to her in every color into my arms. “I’ve been invited to all of these!”

I scrunch my nose.

“Can you believe it?” She flips through the envelopes. “The Chadwell Ball, Senator Beaumont’s Summer Soiree, the Rose Ball, and is there one for the Tidwell?” She flips faster, gets to the end, then frowns. “They have real swans there. It’s usually at some swanky hotel in New York City or on old man Tidwell’s wine country estate. Swans, Quell! And they let you drink real champagne. Nobody asks your age.”

I’ve never seen Abby so excited about anything. She throws herself on the bed beside me. “Quell, there are ‘the rich’ and there are ‘the wealthy.’ The wealthy live in an entirely different world. A world that because of the Order”—she gestures at the opulence around us—“we fit in.” She shimmies the envelopes at me.

I laugh at the ridiculousness. “You’re serious?”

“The world is opening up to me. It’s my time to experience all of it. What use is magic to me if it doesn’t help me have the life I want?”

We serve magic, it does not serve us. Jordan’s words trickle through my memory.

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