The Glass Magician (The Paper Magician Trilogy #2)(22)

He glanced at her, genuine surprise in his emerald irises. “You’re hardly the one who crashed the car, Ceony,” he said in a low voice.

Ceony set the pepper down. “I know. It’s not that, I just . . .”

She released a long breath and stepped back from the stand, moving away from the bulk of the crowd. “It’s just that I was about as useful as that half-cut paper doll in my bedroom. I know you expect more of me.”

Emery nodded, though his eyes looked sympathetic. Ceony waited for a moment before moving on to the next stand, where she grabbed a small bundle of carrots and some thyme.

Once they returned to the center of the road, having navigated around two men who’d had the audacity to bring their horses into the crowded market, Emery said, “I understand why you’d think that, Ceony, but I don’t hold any malice toward you. Certainly you know that.”

She just nodded.

“We all have our fears,” he said, placing a hand on her back to guide her around a gaggle of gossiping women. His touch felt light, but warm, and welcome. “You understand mine; it’s only fair that I try and understand yours.”

She glanced back at him, surprised. “I . . . thank you.”

He rubbed his eyes, which had finally grown heavy with fatigue. “Let’s see . . . list. Rhubarb is over here, I think.”

“Rhubarb isn’t on the—”

“And we’ll need flour if you’re making that pie tonight,” he continued, pointing to a wide stand showcasing various types of produce. Ceony had thought the season for rhubarb was over, but these farmers had some of the red stalks in their wares.

She smiled. “In that case, I’ll also need eggs and butter. I only brought one bag, but I’m sure there’s space in that coat of yours.”

“The gray one has more pockets.”

Ceony selected a few stalks of rhubarb, wondering if the kitchen in their temporary home was stocked with any pie tins, when a familiar, uneasy feeling settled over her skin—the same prickling sensation she’d experienced at the paper mill in Dartford.

She froze for a moment, but Emery’s hand found her back again, and he pushed her farther down the road.

“Look ahead,” he murmured. “I believe we’re being followed. Let’s loop around to check, hmm?”

The hair on Ceony’s arms stood on end, but she nodded and focused on looking straight ahead. Her pulse quickened, pushing against her neck, and she couldn’t tell whether it was from fear or Emery’s fingers pressing into her shoulder blades. She groaned inwardly. How enamored could one woman be?

They turned left through the stands, passing tables of beads and leather goods, and then moved back behind the produce sellers until they once again reached the man with the red peppers. Ceony picked up the closest one to purchase, hoping to make their movements look as natural as possible. Emery flowed right with the act, paying the seller and thanking him for his trouble.

They began walking again, weaving through other customers. Emery reached into his coat and pulled out a roll of paper, which he began to roll even tighter around his pinky finger.

Before long, he had formed a paper telescope.

Ceony glanced at his sleeves. “How much stuff do you keep in there?”

Emery just smiled, then pulled Ceony behind a used-book shop. Peering around the corner of the building, Emery extended the telescope’s length and said, “Zoom.” He searched the street for a few long seconds before shortening the telescope and returning it to his coat.

“Quite the bold man, that one.”

“Grath?” Ceony asked. She wondered how badly he had been burned by her Burst spell.

“No, Saraj. At least, I think that’s him. He’s wearing a hood, and he’s alone.”

“Let me see.”

Emery hesitated.

She held out her hand, waiting, and the paper magician reluctantly handed her the telescope, which still held its Magnification spell. It took Ceony a moment, but then her telescope landed on a fairly tall man—shorter than Grath, she supposed—a ways down the road, wearing a jacket much too warm for the climate, its unfashionable hood pulled up and over his face. It could have been the shadows, but he resembled the man she had seen near the mill and after the buggy accident. She couldn’t get a clear look at his face, however.

Ceony lowered the telescope and ducked back around the corner of the bookstore. Her skin prickled even more—perhaps that was the body’s natural reaction to an Excisioner’s gaze.

Emery took the telescope back from her. “I want you to circle around this shop and head toward the bank. Don’t stop for anything. Go to the flat’s back entrance, understand?”

Tingles like electricity ran up Ceony’s sides and into her skull. She grabbed Emery’s forearm. “Please don’t,” she whispered, pleaded. “Please, please don’t go after him now. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I know what I’m doing,” Emery said.

And that’s why you haven’t caught him yet, because you know what you’re doing? Ceony wanted to say, but she kept the thought to herself.

Another phrase came to mind. “Let me come with you.”

He frowned. “Absolutely not.”

“Don’t you trust me?”

Fine lines creased Emery’s brow. He glanced back around the bookstore before saying, “This is not a matter of trust.”