The Glass Magician

“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.

Emery opened the door. “Thank you again, Langston. Let me know if you need that reference.”

Langston nodded, then moved to tip his hat to Ceony, only to realize he wasn’t wearing one. He settled for a nod and said, “Good day, and take care.”

Ceony thanked him and stepped into the hallway. Emery guided her to the door with a hand on the small of her back. His other hand dug into his pocket and pulled out a Folded crane, its right wing crumpled from its confinement. Ceony’s crane.

“These are not good ideas,” he said.

Her gut sunk. So he had been at the house. “My family?”

“They’re safe. Out of London.”

“Thank you.”

He nodded.

She took a deep breath. “So you met my parents.”

“I did.”

She wrung a handful of her skirt in her hands. “I really am sorry, Emery.”

“I know,” he said, quiet. “What’s done is done, and in the end it didn’t change much.”

“Didn’t change what, exactly?” she asked, but Emery didn’t answer. He guided her out of the town house and into a buggy that already had its engine running, waiting for them.

Ceony noticed the suitcase sitting behind the seats. “Did you go back home?”