The Glass Magician

“For now,” Ceony said, her tone as formal as she could make it, “I would like to continue studying under Magician Thane.”


Ceony walked to the door, but before opening it, she said, “If it makes a difference, I’m sure Magician Thane would not give you a similar speech. I can assure you my infatuation is entirely one-sided.”

Ceony hurried back into the hallway, which felt significantly cooler than the lavatory. She pressed both hands to her cheeks, then her neck, urging her skin to cool. She pinched the front of her blouse and shook it to get some air. Her heels clicked loudly against the hallway’s tiled floor.

She blinked rapidly to avoid crying. How dare Mg. Aviosky stick her nose where it didn’t belong!

She sucked in a deep breath and held it for several steps.

Her shoulders remembered the weight of Emery’s arm around them, and she could feel the warm press of his lips against her forehead as she shivered in the black waters of the river by the cottage. She thought of how he often wore an inscrutable expression to conceal his thoughts, of the late nights he spent in contemplation. What did he conceal behind those mindful expressions, those unreadable glances?

Entirely one-sided. But was it?

She banished the thoughts from her mind and swallowed the small lump forming in her throat. Now was not the time for girlish ponderings.

Glancing over her shoulder, Ceony saw no sign of Mg. Aviosky, but she did catch Delilah’s eye. Ceony must have looked a wreck judging from the way Delilah’s face scrunched. Ceony managed a nod—they were safe, as far as Grath went—and turned away, fanning herself with both hands. Giving herself a moment to calm down.

Emery was waiting just outside Parliament’s east doors, standing by a buggy, apparently having a conversation with the driver. When he saw Ceony, his eyes narrowed.

The driver hurried around to his side of the car. Emery met Ceony halfway and asked, “What’s wrong?”

Ceony shook her head and stepped past him. “It’s nothing,” she said. “Just Magician Aviosky being herself.”

The concern didn’t leave his green eyes—if anything, it intensified—but he didn’t push for an answer. Reaching around Ceony, he opened the door to the buggy and helped her in.

It was a long, silent ride home.





CHAPTER 11



CEONY, LEANING AGAINST THE cover of her origami textbook, carefully aligned the edges of her full-point Fold before setting the crease with her thumbnail. She lifted the newly formed triangle and opened it up, then pressed it down into a square Fold. It was the fourth crane-style bird she had Folded, for she knew from experience one could never have too many paper birds.

A knock sounded at her bedroom door; Ceony glanced under the bed—ensuring her secrets were well concealed—before saying, “Come in.”

Emery opened the door and took two steps into her room—a threshold he had only begun crossing one month ago. He eyed the partially formed bird in Ceony’s hands, the birds beside her, the links of a shield chain, and likely the Folded stars, bats, and Ripple spell scattered over the floor. Ceony hadn’t bothered to hide those; she figured it would look less suspicious with everything out in the open.

“You’ve been busy,” he commented, scratching the back of his head. “And here I thought I wasn’t giving you enough free time.”

Ceony flipped her paper over and formed another square Fold. “I do plan to test for my magicianship at two years,” she said. “I need to practice if I’m to pass.”

Emery smiled without teeth, but his eyes showed something else—nostalgia, or something similar. Dolefulness, maybe?

“So ready to leave?” he asked.

Ceony paused in her Folding. “It’s not like that—”

“I know,” he said, and the look disappeared, his eyes masking whatever shadows played about that light in his head.

Ceony hated it when he did that.

He rescanned the room, perhaps frowning inwardly at the lack of organization in Ceony’s work. “Do keep in touch, after the magicianship,” he said. “I’d be surprised if it took you more than two years.”

Ceony kept her focus on her bird. Are you saying that because it’s what you want, or because it’s the polite thing to say? she wondered.

Emery stepped back into the living room, closing Ceony’s door with a delicate touch. Ceony formed two chicken Folds before retrieving her scissors and her paper doll—stolen back from the cottage—from under her bed. She needed to make every possible preparation before facing Grath tomorrow.

She had nearly finished. Two more snips, and the silhouette would be free. If Ceony cut it out correctly, the spell would work. If not, she’d have to start over from scratch, but she didn’t have time to do that before her one thirty appointment tomorrow.