The Glass Magician (The Paper Magician Trilogy #2)(36)

Ceony didn’t know much about what Lira had been like before becoming an Excisioner—only that she had been a nurse and far more pleasant—but she knew she and Emery’s ex-wife were very, very different people.

So how could she possibly believe that a man like Emery would fall for a simple girl like her?

Ceony fell back onto the bed and stared up at the beige ceiling. She thought again of the fortuity box she’d Folded the day Emery awoke from his Excision-induced slumber. Its vision had been as crisp as anything she’d seen in Emery’s heart, yet the future was always changing. Any psychic at the county fair knew as much. Would Emery’s future include her at all if she were to read it now? She didn’t think she wanted to know, assuming the paper magician cared enough to humor her a second time.

Ceony pushed Lira out of her mind and thought instead of all the small moments that had fueled her hope—the signs that Emery might harbor some affection for her, too.

And Mg. Aviosky had obviously sensed something between them if she had gone so far as to set up another apprenticeship for Ceony. It couldn’t all be in Ceony’s head.

“You’re my apprentice. I don’t . . . don’t think I need to remind you of that.”

Ceony deflated. Or perhaps what Mg. Aviosky saw truly was entirely one-sided. No wonder she hadn’t spoken to Emery first. Mg. Thane, that is.

Shutting her eyes, Ceony let her mind drift until it settled on a memory six weeks after her trip into the paper magician’s heart. An especially hot Wednesday afternoon. It was the first moment she had thought, Maybe this will work. Maybe I’m someone worth falling for.

She had taken it upon herself to start a small vegetable garden in the narrow backyard of the cottage, where the soil wasn’t covered in paper plants. She crouched over the small lot she had prepared, dark topsoil spread out before her and staining her gloves, the sun casting patterns over her skirt as it shined through the wicker brim of her hat. She picked herself off the ground after planting the last seeds—radishes—and bent backward so that her sore back cracked in four places.

Emery appeared beside her. “Congratulations, Ceony, you’ve successfully made a very large stretch of dirt.”

“You’ll thank me in a month or so,” she countered, pulling off her gloves. “And next year you’ll be begging me to make it even bigger.”

Emery smiled, then reached forward and ran his thumb over Ceony’s cheek, brushing off some of the dirt there. Ceony, of course, had humiliated herself by flushing redder than the tomatoes that would soon be growing at her feet.

But he hadn’t moved his hand, not right away. He hesitated, looking at her, those beautiful emerald eyes burning holes through her skin.

“Wh-What?” Ceony stuttered.

He smiled and dropped his hand. “Oh, nothing. I was just thinking about how much I like your name.”

Ceony opened her eyes, bringing herself back to the present. She sat up, her gaze meeting the empty eyes of her paper doll. “Cease,” she said, and the paper collapsed to the floor, losing its color in the process.

Then Ceony slid off the mattress and knelt on the floor, reaching under her bed. She hadn’t been able to take much from the cottage—she would have to explain all of it, if Emery ever discovered her cache—but her fingers wrapped around a corded paper stem, and she pulled out one of the red roses Emery had crafted for her birthday, its red paper petals still perfectly crisp.

She fingered the flower’s lifelike bud.

I can wait two years, she thought, turning the rose in her hand. I can wait two years for him, longer if need be. If he would ever love me, I’d wait my entire life.

But even two years felt like an eternity. What if Emery found someone else? Ceony could only pray they returned to the cottage soon so that the paper magician could go back to being a recluse and not meet anyone new.

She sighed and returned the rose to its hiding place. How much time she had wasted moping around like a lovesick schoolgirl!

She gathered her paper doll and stashed it away, then returned to her work. Setting the half-formed paper bird aside, she began Folding a series of small Burst spells. She could not spend more time mooning over Emery. He could wait. He had to wait.

For now, Ceony had to prepare. It was up to her to control the Excisioners. It was up to her to protect him, and herself.

She stayed up late Folding her spells and carefully arranging them in her bag—the same bag she had armed herself with when she faced Lira on Foulness Island.

Before she went to bed, she loaded her Tatham percussion-lock pistol and added its weight to her bounty of spells.

One didn’t always need magic to win a fight.





CHAPTER 12



WHEN SHE AND EMERY arrived at the Parliament building the next day, Ceony protested less vehemently when she was told to sit outside the conference room and wait with Delilah.

“It won’t be as long this time,” Emery whispered as the others associated with Criminal Affairs filtered into the double-door conference room. His breath against her neck gave her shivers, but she hid them well enough. “For the love of all gods, I hope it’s not as long as last time.”

He sighed and turned to the conference room, where Mg. Aviosky lingered outside the doors with a frown. This time, however, the expression was directed at Emery. Ceony wondered at that.