Page 24 of Shadows of Perl

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Page 24 of Shadows of Perl

“If the rumors are true, perhaps her beliefs have shifted from what you once thought. And I’m hearing from the Council she’s erased the recent Cotillion from the memory of all those in her House.”

“I wouldn’t put much past her, but that is hard to believe.”

“You’re saying Darragh is innocent of tethering her graduates? Amassing an army?”

“I’m saying I’ll believe it when it comes from someone who is not a habitual liar. Or someone who doesn’t have a vested interest in seeing the fall of that House.”

“Beaulah.”

I incline my head. “However, I will admit that Darragh Marionne and Beaulah Perl have both shown me that they see the rules of this great Order as flexible.”

“Do you support dissolving the House?”

My heart squeezes, pumping faster. We’re already down one House since House of Duncan dissolved. Replacing Darragh seems to be the best option. But there are no easy answers for a House without heirs.

“That is not a decision I’m prepared to make, sir.”

“Perhaps not now. But—” He parts open the velvet box, and inside is a heart pendant on a silver chain made of the brightest red gem I’ve ever seen. It’s encased in silver and inscribed with each House sigil. The Dragunheart’s lavaliere.

“It’s more beautiful than described,” I breathe. The stone was forged into a heart shape and given to the Dragunhead’s second-in-command. The last Dragunheart died over a decade ago. The Dragunhead hasn’t selected a new one since.

He twists the pendant in the light and its red hues ripple, deepening and shimmering beneath its glassy surface.

“Stand, Jordan.” He rises, too. His gunmetal mask, trimmed in black, bleeds through his skin. “I’ve been waiting for the right moment. And I see no better time.”

Breath sticks in my chest and I can’t feel my knees. I force myself out of the seat and stand still, my mask hardening on my face.

“Your raid went flawlessly. The target was Kix Vorgsiv, a descendant of a Darkbearer line we didn’t have on our radar. But with some convincing interrogation, we’ve uncovered an entire nest of them, hunkered down together at a safe house near Sacramento. I am very proud of you—not just for this raid, but your leadership these last few months.”

“Duty doesn’t require credit.”

“And that is precisely why you’re getting it.”

I don’t have words, so I nod.

“It’s odd, isn’t it?” he says, detaching the necklace from its box. “For generations, we’ve protected thousands from being hurt by those with toushana. But our nickname comes from the killing we do, not the saving. It’s the burning that people remember.”

I ponder a moment, thinking of the guy we apprehended at Yaäuper. “Is it that strange?”

The Dragunhead listens intently.

“Our power is not in our command of toushana, but in the fear we strike into others. We want them to remember it. It’s the only thing that keeps them from banding together and trying to overthrow this place.” My thoughts move to the girl, the outlier, who fears nothing.

His mouth slides into a satisfied smile as he gestures for me to stand in front of him. “It is my job to be of sharp intellect, sage wisdom, and swift decision. But I am not perfect.” He cups my shoulder and it feels like the weight of the world. He ropes the heart necklace over my head. “This fourth day of November, I hereby name you Dragunheart of the Prestigious Order of Highest Mysteries.”

I steady myself on the desk as the world blurs through my tears. I’ve done it.

“Nothing compares to this honor, sir.”

He dusts off my shoulders, pulls out a handkerchief embroidered with intertwined leaves, and polishes each one of my pins. “One day you will rise to the Head and have to find a new Heart. Keep your eyes”—he taps my chest—“and your heart open. Can you do that?”

“Yes, sir. I can do whatever needs to be done.” I blink and see a freckle-faced girl with eyes brighter than the sun on the back of my eyelids. Then I picture my magic closing them forever.

The seconds tick past like hours as I sign a few papers Maei needs to formally announce my position. An interview with Debs Daily is set up, and before I realize it, it’s late. The Dragunhead settles at his desk and spills brown liquid into a short glass.

“Sir,” I say as he offers me a drink. “I would like to locate Quell and Yagrin personally.”

“Protecting the Sphere is more important than bringing a pair of rogues to justice.”




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