Page 102 of Shadows of Perl
“You’re wrong.”
“About?”
“Many things.”
His mouth purses, those disgustingly perfect cheekbones pushing up under his eyes. He shrugs me off with that air of arrogance I found revolting when we first met. It reminds me why loathing him—my instinctual reaction—was the right choice.
“You’re going to help me get Beaulah arrested. Do we have an understanding?”
An idea strikes me so fast, I almost laugh. If Beaulah can take the power into her possession, that means I could, too. I could drain the Sphere into something in my possession to steal the one thing she loves most. I bite away the twisted smile curling my lips.
“I am interested in witnessing Beaulah’s downfall,” I say.
He lowers the blade. It’s not a lie, more of a half-truth. One of the more useful things I learned at Hartsboro. We will track down the Sphere before Beaulah. But when we find it, I’m going to take its innards for myself. And enjoy watching Beaulah’s horror when all the magic she once had, the power she holds, is in my hands.
I offer a hand to shake on it. “I’ll help you track the Sphere.”
Part Three
Thirty-Seven
Nore
Nore ignored the feeling of the ancestors watching her as she strode toward the glittering lights and soft music emanating from the main house. Her stomach sloshed. She was close. If her plans proceeded as she hoped, she would have that Scroll tonight. She watched the time.
While back in her cottage, Nore had researched what the Immortality Scroll supposedly looked like. She pored over volumes of legend and lore, some by Caera Ambrose, the inaugural Headmistress of House of Ambrose, who discovered the Scroll. Caera had published the most information on the topic. But Nore also read writings from several other Ambrosers, some who doubted the Scroll existed at all. Many thought it was a myth, believing that, if such a thing did exist, it would be extraordinarily difficult to achieve. Jealousy often bred doubt. That didn’t worry her.
But there was one question in all her research that made her heart tremor.
Caera Ambrose discovered the secret to immortality and inked its instructions on the legendary Scroll. Their House held this secret for centuries, and yet there was not record of a single Headmistress ever trying to use it. It probably required the rarest elixirs, and strongest strains of magic. But literally no one had tried. When Mildred Ambrose died during childbirth, leaving no one to take over in her absence, her husband let the House pass on, out of their immediate family, instead. And during the early years of their House, when Caera’s great-grandchildren fought to the blood over an assumed illegitimate daughter, they allowed the leadership to pass to the next generation instead of resurrecting the woman. Or at least trying to.
The cost of using such magic must be high.
Nore swallowed. Darragh hadn’t expressed any reservations about what the Scroll’s magic would cost her. She just wanted the Scroll, and Nore was going to give it to her.
Tonight.
She checked the time again as she entered the large ballroom. The tables were adorned with royal-blue linens and copper-colored plates. Surprisingly, there was a single white flower at the center of each table. Onstage an Audior quartet played. Classical notes streamed from the magic at their fingertips like a symphony. Nore moved through the crowd and squeezed the crushed nixelweed petals in her pocket. Nixelweed was used by Retentors to expel digested magic by inducing a rapid succession of sneezes. It basically upset people’s seasonal allergies. But, for her purposes tonight, a little sneezing was all she needed.
Ellery was talking with Mr. Hargrove surrounded by an audience, all with cigars in hand, each wearing their own rendition of the drab gray suit. Nore spotted her mother, deep in conversation as well, with a familiar woman in a gray laced corset and a single pearl resting on the metal diadem arced above her head. Mrs. Hargrove caught her staring and waved her over. Nore’s throat went dry. Showtime. Please let this work.
“Mrs. Hargrove, a pleasure to see you again. Mother.” Nore curtsied, careful to hold her head painfully still so that her curled hair didn’t show her earrings. But her mother’s gaze was fixed on her ears.
“Nore,” Mrs. Hargrove greeted her warmly. “You look quite nice.” Her mother had sent over a simple gown made of rough linen fabric. A burlap ribbon lined its capped sleeves and another tied around her waist. She was fluffing her locks when her mother reached for her hair and pulled it behind her shoulder. Mrs. Hargrove’s eyes widened.
“You really have no respect,” her mother spit. “Here of all places.”
Isla snatched Nore’s hook earrings out of her ears before she could move. She clenched her fists. Yagrin gave her those! Mrs. Hargrove watched them while fiddling with the hem of her sleeve. Keeping up appearances was the opposite of what their House stood for. Public shame was welcomed.
Nore held her composure despite the biting pain in her earlobes. She was getting in that vault tonight. Nothing would ruin her plan. She pulled her fist out of her pocket, careful to keep her fingers tightly together. Nore waited until they began to chat again, as if she weren’t there. She brought her hand to her mouth and opened it ever so slightly. She blew a sharp burst of air through her fist. The petal dust trickled through the air, so fine it was hardly noticeable in the dim room. She held her breath. Her mother’s and Mrs. Hargrove’s noses wriggled.
“Oh, goodness. I— Achoo!” Her mother’s sneeze flew out of her nose and into her gloved hands before she could open her purse for a handkerchief. Mrs. Hargrove sneezed as well, but Nore watched as her mother’s eyes squinted and watered. Her mother sneezed violently into her hands twice more before frantically apologizing.
Nore opened her hand. “Your gloves,” she said, offering to take both of theirs. She couldn’t be too considerate or Mother would suspect her. “I’ll get a fresh pair for both of you.”
“Such a mannerable young lady, Isla,” Mrs. Hargrove said, handing Nore her gloves. “You must be so proud.”
Her mother eyed Nore strangely.