The Glass Magician (The Paper Magician Trilogy #2)(51)

Langston paled. “I . . . well, I’m not supposed to let you out of the house, you see, and you can’t use one in here.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m not good with lessons—not yet anyway—but I have some books you could read. Perhaps you’ll discover something else Magician Thane hasn’t taught you.”

“Perhaps,” Ceony agreed, slouching in her chair. “I’ll browse for myself, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course.”

Pushing back from the table, Ceony collected the dishes, washed them in silence, and picked through books until she found not a textbook, but a copy of Jane Eyre. When Langston wasn’t looking, she snatched a sheet of paper and a pen from the top of his desk and retired to the guestroom upstairs.

Sitting on her bed and leaning against the novel, Ceony wrote on the paper, I need you to trust me and leave the house. Go anywhere, take a vacation. I’ll send you the money. Please hurry.

She reread her words and chewed on her bottom lip. For all she knew, Criminal Affairs had yet to take action, or they had decided to use her family as bait to draw out Grath and Saraj. The idea made her stomach churn.

It wouldn’t take long for the men to follow through on their threats. And for Saraj, all it would take was one touch.

She thought of the buggy driver and shivered. She slinked down to the floor and Folded the paper against it until she had formed a paper crane.

“Breathe,” she said.

The paper bird stretched out its wings and lifted its triangular head to her.

She recited her address to it.

“If no one is home, come straight back here so I know,” she said.

The bird bobbed in her hand. Ceony opened her window just wide enough to slip the bird out. It launched over the street below, its white body shrinking out of sight as it flew over the next row of town houses.

Ceony sighed and closed the window. She hated not knowing.

Leaning on the sill, she peered down to the street lined with Gaffer lamps, tempted to rip a page from Jane Eyre to make a quick telescope. She searched for buggies, searched for a man in an indigo coat, but he did not come.

“I am angry with you.”

Ceony pressed her forehead to the glass. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. She didn’t know how else to get the message through. I was stupid, I didn’t think. I’m sorry that I endangered Delilah and Magician Hughes and you. Please believe me. If I could go back in time and stop myself, I would. I love you.

She touched her cheek, prodding the healing bruise there. She had deserved that much.

She waited at the window for a long time, watching the people pass by, holding her breath whenever a rented buggy came down the street.

But Emery still didn’t come.





CHAPTER 18



AFTER READING FIFTY PAGES of Jane Eyre, washing her clothes, and showing Langston the proper way to make gravy, Ceony bathed and managed to get into bed at a decent hour. While she didn’t sleep well, she slept better than she had the night before, and found some relief in being able to wear a full-length skirt in the morning.

She searched for her little white bird at the window, but it hadn’t returned. She hoped it had reached its destination safely, but if it had, that meant her family still lingered in the Mill Squats. Or someone did. Her imagination could only fathom who.

Her stomach turned sour, and she massaged it through her blouse. Langston had a telephone, didn’t he? Perhaps she could ring Mg. Aviosky and learn something. Anything. She would fall like a soufflé otherwise.

As Ceony came down the stairs, she heard Langston speaking to someone in his living room. It only took a few steps for her to recognize the voice, and she nearly tripped the rest of the way to the main floor. Her heart once more lodged in her throat.

She hurried into the front room. “Emery . . . I mean, Magician Thane.”

Emery stood by the front door, absent his indigo coat, or any coat for that matter. He wore only a white button-up shirt with long sleeves and a pair of dark-gray slacks. Had he donned a tie, he would have looked ready to work in an office. His face was newly shaved, and he’d cut his hair as well. It didn’t look too different, just shorter and less unkempt.

He stood with his arms loosely folded across his ribs, leaning his weight on his left side. He glanced at her, the fire gone from his eyes.

He was beautiful.

Langston stood with him, fully dressed for the day, a pair of suspenders strapped over his shoulders. Ceony hadn’t thought to try and overhear what they had been discussing, and she chided herself for it. Judging by their expressions, she assumed the conversation had involved her.

Ceony clasped her hands behind her back and fought down a flush. “I . . . didn’t expect to see you so soon.” Only hoped.

“We have a few things to discuss,” Emery said. He didn’t sound angry, just resigned. Resigned to what, Ceony couldn’t tell, for Emery had shuttered his expression again, and she couldn’t read the secrets behind his eyes. Curse whoever had taught him to do that.

Langston said, “Do you have anything to collect?”

“Just my shoes,” Ceony said. Uneasy, she added, “I’ll fetch them.”

She hurried upstairs and retrieved the oxford shoes she had worn yesterday, taking a moment to inhale a few deep breaths and shake out her shoulders. Then she pinched her cheeks and hurried back downstairs.