Page 78 of House of Marionne

He glances up at my diadem. “You know, I’m not sure if I’ve said it, but you’re very impressive, Quell. Your level of ability is quite rare. It’s been incredible watching you come into your magic.”

“You have a funny way of showing it.” I pluck one of the smaller stones from the pile and ease it onto my dagger.

He looks off again, and it’s like he’s somewhere else entirely.

I slide my hand over my blade and summon warmth to my fingertips. The teal stone bubbles down into the dagger without too much trouble. I grab another. “How can you tell?” I ask, trying to bring him back from wherever he’s run off to.

“I can sense it. Are you feeling more ready for the exam?”

“I’ll be ready. I’d actually like to get out of here as fast as I can.”

That swivels his head around, back to me.

“What?” I ask, pressing another stone to my dagger. This one melts in slower than the ones before it, but it still goes, the metal shimmering yellow once finished. I grab a couple more.

“I can’t imagine itching to leave this place.” He parts his lips but closes them again.

“And why is that?” I ask, unable to bury my curiosity.

He lets the silence swell before speaking. “I’ve been groomed to be a Dragun since I was very young.” He faces me, and for a moment I consider scooting closer to him. “My House is run a bit different than things here. The training is more rigorous, for lack of a better word.”

“Did you have to go there because your aunt is Headmistress?”

“Partly. But we also live within her territory. Sola Sfenti illuminated the magic in me for the first time when I was eight. And my father handed me over to Headmistress Perl right then,” he says more to a flower nearby than me.

“As a kid?”

“In my House, that’s how it’s done. To honor the Mother of Magic and the children she lost we commit more time to mastery of magic, not just study. Much was sacrificed to shepherd magic through the centuries, and the Mother of Magic paid a lot of that cost. Her children and their children lived their lives on the run. Can you imagine?”

I look away. “That sounds awful.”

“If you look at history, whispers of magic have incensed every ruler since the beginning of time. And for what? So that they could dabble in it, play with it like a toy to put on a shelf once they’re bored of it? In my House we start priming prospects for magic six years before the rest of the Order does. One year in honor of each of the Mother of Magic’s children. Headmistress Perl inspects children in our territory around age ten, and if they show the potential to access more than one strand of magic, she takes them in right away to help their chances of becoming a Dragun.”

“Like you live with her? As an orphan?”

“Sure.”

“You call her Headmistress, not Aunt.” Perhaps they’re not close.

“And you call your Headmistress by her title as well.”

I don’t know what to say to that.

“I’ve known what I would do for as long as I can remember. I can’t imagine coming here as you have later in life. That doesn’t sound ideal.”

I stare at the Dragun, trying to see the boy behind him. There’s a wariness that carves the angles of his face that I hadn’t noticed before. A deep sag in the set of his shoulders. I hadn’t really thought about how where he comes from likely hangs his posture and sures his steps, as so much of where I’ve come from has etched my path into stone. He slips another green candy into his mouth.

“I wish I had known about this place.” The truth slips out, and it seizes my heart. His expression crinkles as if he’s sifting through my words for treasure.

“So it’s true, then? Your mother’s departure from here was more than a sabbatical?”

I flinch. “Is that what people say?”

“I’m just trying to understand you, what your life was like.”

He takes off his coat, offering it to me. I’m not cold, but for some reason I take it, considering the earnestness in his expression. There’s only honesty there.

“Forget I asked. What are you thinking of specializing in? Cultivator like Headmistress?”

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