The Glass Magician

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.”

“Sand,” he repeated, thoughtful.

She rolled onto her shoulder, clasping Emery’s arm. “Please don’t tell anyone,” she begged. “If it falls into the wrong hands . . . Oh, Emery, what would Excisioners do with such magic? They’re powerful enough already.”

She thought of Delilah slumped in her chair and pushed the image away. A sore lump formed in her throat.

“You should report it,” Emery said, lowering into the chair, “but I won’t force you. And I won’t say a word.”

Ceony let out a long breath. “Thank you.”

Emery nodded. He pulled his arm from her grasp and entwined his fingers with hers.

“She saved me,” Ceony murmured. “Delilah saved me. She taught me the spells, not knowing I would use them. If she hadn’t, I would be dead. Magician Aviosky would be, too. Grath wanted her heart.”

Grath. Ceony shivered.

“What will they do?” she asked.

Emery leaned toward her. “What do you mean?”

“I . . . I killed him, Emery,” she whispered. “I stabbed him and shattered the glass. I killed Grath.”

“Saving your life as well as the life of a prestigious magician,” Emery said. He released her hand and caressed her cheek. “If anything, Ceony, you’ll be congratulated.”

Ceony’s stomach turned. “I don’t want to be congratulated.”

“Then you won’t be,” he promised. “It’s over today. We’ll go back home, if that’s what you want. If you can bond to paper again.”

Ceony nodded. “I do. And I can. I’m sure it will work.”

Emery stood and bent over her and smoothed hair from her forehead.

“I’ll go take care of things. I’ll be right back, and then we’ll go home together,” he said.

Ceony nodded, a small warmth filling her heart. She clung to it, cherishing it, as she watched Emery go. Emery, the paper magician. How she loved him.

Grunting, Ceony pushed herself into a sitting position and reached for the pitcher, but she stopped halfway, studying her outstretched hand. The hand that had gripped the glass that killed Grath Cobalt. The hand that had made her a Gaffer.

She brought it closer to her face, tracing a finger over her palm and knuckles where the scars should have been. She was a Gaffer now, but tonight she would be a Folder again.

And Ceony realized she held the secret Grath had labored years to discover, the secret no living magician knew existed: the secret to breaking and resealing bonds. She was a Folder—she would always be a Folder—but she could be a Gaffer, too. Or a Pyre, a Siper, a Polymaker. She could even be a Smelter.

Balling her hand into a fist, Ceony twisted in her bed and looked out the window behind her, out into the yard of the hospital and the street beyond, where the buggies were parked bumper to bumper, and the first orange leaf of fall flew on the air, caught up by a summer wind. Ceony knew it then.

Starting today, she could be anything she wanted to be.





ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

THERE ARE SO MANY people I’m grateful to for helping with the fruition of this story. First is my husband, Jordan, who reads everything I send to him and listens to me talk talk talk about this book and others constantly, without ever a peep of complaint. A big thank-you also to my dedicated readers—Juliana, Lauren, Laura, Hayley, Andrew, Lindsey, Whit, Alex, and Bekah—all of whom helped me make this story decent.

Of course, I can’t forget Marlene, who boosted me over the publishing fence with this series. I want to cheer for Angela Polidoro, who is a fantastic line editor, kiss the 47North team for their hard work, and extend my thanks to my editors David Pomerico and Jason Kirk for making my words palatable.

And, as always, my hat’s off to God, who gave me the brain that comes up with all my ideas.