Fifty-Nine

Nore

Nore didn’t know what to say. They awaited her response. But Jordan didn’t know what he was asking her. To stay and help them was to live in perpetual torture.

“Well?” Yagrin oozed impatience, as he often did.

“I’ll take your silence as a yes,” Jordan went on. “First, I need your horse. My brother and I need to get back to the Sphere.”

Yagrin’s dark eyes glowed with ambition. Her insides warmed with excitement for him. She wanted him to know that she was proud of him for sticking it to the Order. She wasn’t sure what it had taken to get to this moment, but freedom was what he’d wanted for so long, deep down. He’d just never had the courage to say it. Her lips parted as she warred with what to do.

“I can’t give you my horse, I’m sorry.”

Jordan stared at her dubiously, as if she hadn’t just rescued him an inch from death. Yagrin, on the other hand, appeared disgruntled, irritated that she couldn’t see their needs were obviously far greater than her own. But that was the farthest thing from true. If the Sphere bled out, Nore’s mother would die, and the ancestors would expect her heart to be in that glass box. She needed that Immortality Scroll if she was going to outsmart the Pact.

“The world is literally on fire,” Yagrin said. “But please, take your time.”

“I’ll ride out of this graveyard and never look back. I don’t care about the Order.” It was a bluff, but they didn’t know that. The more she thought about it, the more she wanted them to protect the Sphere. But she needed help, too. Jordan stood now, fully healed. He turned the Dragunhead’s dagger in his hand.

“An heir to a great House who doesn’t care for the Order,” Jordan said. “Our interests may be more aligned than you think, Miss Ambrose. Share your request.”

“I want you to promise to help me in a matter, on your honor as Dragunheart.” They watched her. She wet her lips. This was the boldest she’d ever been in her own skin. She was wearing her own face and she’d just admitted she had no love for the Order. There was no turning back now.

“My needs are twofold. Kidnap the Headmistress of House Ambrose and bring her to me. My brother may have plans to kill her, so it’s a mercy, in a way. And help me find the rest of the pieces to this.” She held up the Scroll.

Yagrin didn’t speak. She bit down on her lip, wondering what he thought of her request. Too savage? Too hopeful?

“That’s not a fair trade,” Yagrin said.

But Jordan took the scrap from her hands. “Intellectus secat acutissimum.” His expression darkened. “Your House doesn’t have the knowledge it’s known for.” He breathed a laugh.

Yagrin snatched the paper from his hands, greedily reading every mark on it. When he looked up, he gazed off.

“This can bring back anyone from the dead?” he asked.

Her heart ticked faster. He still loved her. Or the lie that he knew.

“Within a certain amount of time after death, yes,” she said.

“How much time?”

“That’s unclear. Months. Maybe a year. I—I’d have to do more research.”

“She doesn’t have the full Scroll, Yags,” Jordan said.

“We do have it,” she said. “Or we did.” She explained how Caera Ambrose uncovered the secret, then parts of it were lost somehow, leaving only this scrap and the one her brother had.

“If we find it, you have to give it to us,” Jordan said.

Yagrin’s mouth hardened. Even if she could give Yagrin the Scroll, the girl he loved was dead. Red was the one thing Nore couldn’t give him. She needed the Scroll. But to get it she needed their help. She stuck out her hand.

“Deal,” she said to Jordan.

He shook her hand. “Yagrin, after we push Beaulah back, you’ll go with Nore. Abby—”

Abby cleared her throat. “You don’t speak for me. What do I get out of this?”

“What do you want?” Nore responded.

“I want my magic.” She folded her arms.

Jordan squeezed Abby’s shoulder before he and Yagrin climbed up on Daring. Nore stroked his nose and scratched his neck before slapping him on the hind. They rode off toward the darkening calamity on the horizon.