House of Marionne

I thumb through the closet of clothes from Grandmom, but everything is either too formal and stuffy or too clearly says, “I’m desperate for friends.” I’ve settled on a dark plum dress when Abby bursts into the room in full song and dance. She twirls her dagger.

“You passed Second Rite!” I don’t mean it to come out as a scream, but passing First Rite felt like fighting off a slow death, and I only worked on that for a week.

“The Latin portion almost kicked my butt, but I. Did!” She screams in delight, and for several moments, jumping up and down shouting seems to be the only thing I can do.

“I’m so excited for you! Third Rite is next. So, fancy dresses, a lot of food, and dancing? Is that really it?” There has to be a catch. Rites one and two are tough, so the third’s got to be—

“And plunging this bad boy into my heart at Cotillion.” She presses the dagger tip to her chest.

I guffaw. But her expression doesn’t change. “You’re serious.” I take her blade, turning it in my hand, and I’m reminded of the glimpse of what must have been a Cotillion going on the night I arrived here.

“It’s not like actually stabbing yourself. It’s magic.” She smooths her hand along the blade’s surface and its metal ripples dark black and red. She presses it into her finger and the tip disappears. “When you press it into you, as long as your heart is sure, your blood binds with magic, sharpening your instincts, amplifying your abilities. It’s sealing your magic to you, forever.”

“And if your heart isn’t sure?”

“The blade doesn’t shift to air, it stays metal . . .”

I drop the blade.

My heart is sure. Binding with my magic is what I want.

“I’ve heard of people who were kicked out before Binding and missed Third Rite,” Abby says, picking up her dagger. “For most of them magic just lies dormant and eventually becomes unreachable. But for others . . . it’s bad. It can get unwieldy and torment them, sometimes to death.”

I think of Rose, then Octos. That won’t be me. I will complete all the Rites.

She eyes my dress and flashes me a wicked expression. “Scandalous.”

“They invited me out.” Admittedly it’s shorter than I’d prefer to wear and the whole back is exposed. But it’s the least frumpy thing I have.

“I’m coming with, give me fifteen.” She yanks a black dress out of her closet and disappears into the bathroom. Her dagger is fitted in the holder above her desk, and the spot where Mom’s used to be on my desk is empty. Guilt twists in me for getting rid of something so precious.

I glance, as I pass my mirror, at the stranger reflected there. Her head glitters with gems and golden metal. Her shoulders hang a bit differently than before. Her chin holds steady, instead of pointing toward the ground. I slip the dress on, wrapping the strange girl in even more foreign layers. The shiny material is soft on my skin. My fingers trace my collarbone, but my gaze is fixed on the girl in the mirror. I don’t know her, but damn I’d like to.

The Tavern bustles with energy. Abby immediately makes a beeline for the karaoke stage, and I, seeing the size of the crowd, how many heads turn my way, begin to regret my decision to come here. I find the bathrooms and splash water on my face. That girl in the mirror eyes me again, and I struggle to look away.

The lights flicker.

I reach for the door, but it doesn’t budge.

Creak. The stall door behind me rocks back and forth.

“Hello?” My heart stutters.

The lights go out, and I blink, but I can’t see in the darkness. A hook tugs in my stomach. Something moves nearby and the hair on my arms stands. A warm hand reaches from behind me and clamps my mouth shut. Arms lift me off my feet and drag me out the door.