The Glass Magician (The Paper Magician Trilogy #2)(62)

Emery leaned forward and smoothed her hair. “Shhh, you’re safe. You’re well; we both are. You should rest.”

“I’ve rested for nine days!” she exclaimed, but she paused and took a deep, deliberate breath, trying to settle herself. “What spells?”

Emery frowned. “The Cabinet does not like to advertise it, but not all Excision is illegal. A few are employed by them for cases such as yours.”

Ceony’s skin went cold. “An Excisioner . . . did something to me?” Who did he kill in order to heal me? Images of Delilah bound to her chair filled Ceony’s mind.

Her skin rose in gooseflesh. Her intestines stirred.

“He healed you, yes,” Emery said, and his frown turned to a flat line. His eyes were not impenetrable this time; they were filled with concern. “I wasn’t here, I’m sorry. I left to protect you, but it seems that it was the last thing I should have done.”

Ceony shook her head, her skull throbbing at the action. “Delilah, Aviosky. Grath—”

He ran his thumb over the back of her hand. “Grath is dead, and has already been cremated. Delilah . . .”

Ceony’s mouth grew dry once more. “She’s . . . she’s okay?”

Emery lowered his eyes. “I’m sorry, Ceony.”

Ceony bit the inside of her lip, but that didn’t stop the tears from betraying her. Emery brought her knuckles—her unscathed knuckles—to his lips, but he didn’t speak. Ceony pressed the sleeve of her other hand to her mouth to stifle a sob, and she sunk back into her pillow, staring at the ceiling, trying not to replay Delilah’s murder in her head.

It reminded Ceony of Anise Hatter, her best friend from secondary school, who had killed herself. If Ceony had only gotten to her in time, she’d still be alive. Only this was even more Ceony’s fault. Ceony had been there, and still . . .

The doctor arrived, and Emery stepped back as he listened to Ceony’s heart, not commenting on her tears. He asked her questions in a paternal tone—how she felt, did her head hurt, did she have any pain—which Ceony answered with only nods. The doctor said she could check out in an hour and left, pulling the curtain closed for privacy.

Emery resumed his seat. They remained quiet for a long time.

After Ceony’s tears dried to her cheeks, she asked, “Magician Aviosky?”

“Is alive and well, thanks to you,” Emery said. “She’s checked in twice a day since I arrived to see how you’re faring.”

Ceony took a deep breath, letting herself feel grateful that at least she’d managed to save one of them. “My family?”

“They’re back home, preparing for a permanent move. Your parents were here this morning. You should call them after you’re released.” He paused. “I can call them, if you prefer.”

“They’re safe?” she asked, studying his eyes for their secrets. “Saraj?”

“Saraj has been incarcerated,” Emery said, a finality to his words. His eyes hardened. “It was a matter of luck and trickery that got him there, but we managed it.”

“We,” she repeated. “You weren’t alone.”

“No. The Cabinet would never send a single man after an Excisioner.” He glanced down to his sling.

“He’s been jailed before, though.”

Emery frowned. “Yes.”

“And escaped.”

“Not this time,” he assured her. He sighed. “I’ll tell you the rest later, when things have settled.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Ceony stared at the ceiling for a long time, until Emery’s chair scooted back and he stood.

“I’ll contact your parents and finish your paperwork,” he said.

Ceony squeezed his hand, halting him. “I have to tell you something,” she whispered.

His brow rose, but he returned to his seat without question.

Ceony rolled her lips together and glanced around to ensure no one had snuck up on her. “He did it, Emery. He broke his bond with glass. Grath died an Excisioner. He . . . he bonded to Delilah’s blood.”

Emery frowned. “I feared as much, judging by the autop—by the information I received.”

“But I broke my bond, too,” she whispered. “I’m a Gaffer, Emery.”

He leaned away from her, incredulous. “You sustained serious injuries, Ceony. You may be suffering—”

“Give me a mirror,” she said. “I can prove it.”

Emery held her gaze for a long moment, but finally stood from his chair and left. He returned a minute later with a small mirror on the end of a metal shaft, similar to the tool Ceony’s dentist used to see the backs of her teeth.

Ceony took it from him. Touching the edges of the tiny mirror the way she had seen Delilah do it, she said, “Reflect.”

She handed it back to Emery, whose eyes narrowed as he looked at the new image in the mirror. A picture of Delilah—her smiling face as it had looked the day Ceony dined with her at the bistro. The moment before their world had flipped over, leaving Ceony hanging by her fingernails and Delilah swimming in the dark.

Emery set the mirror down. “How?” he asked. “But perhaps I don’t want to know.”

“You bond to what your material is made of,” Ceony whispered. “I did it with the wooden floorboards in Magician Aviosky’s mirror room. Next you bond to yourself, and then to the new material. It breaks the bond, Emery, and seals a new one. I think I could do it again. I hope so. I don’t want to be a Gaffer. But I need sand.”