The Master Magician

She let out a long, slow breath and slipped the mimic spell back into her ledger. Outside, a cloud shifted in the sky, letting a ray of sunlight pierce through the hallway window. Stepping from its sudden brilliance, she blinked spots from her eyes. Before they had cleared, she noticed something perched on the eaves of the house. It stood about a foot high and, though it had no feathers, preened its right wing: a paper hawk.

Ceony gawked for a moment before stepping closer to the glass, making slow movements so as not to startle the lifelike spell. Dozens of papers comprised its body, each Folded so crisply into the next that Ceony could barely spy the seams. Brown paper, though a few off-white pieces formed the hawk’s breast.

The creature couldn’t have been Bennet’s handiwork, which meant it had to be Mg. Bailey’s creation. A cloud passed over the sun once more, allowing Ceony a better view of the bird. A fierce-looking spell, certainly, complete with tightly rolled paper talons and a sharp, cardstock beak hinged to open and close. Ceony hadn’t seen a single spell adorning Mg. Bailey’s estate besides the ones she and Emery passed back and forth. Had she missed this one, or was it new?

And why a hawk, of all things? Surely Mg. Bailey wasn’t so sour as to want to scare away songbirds.

The hawk’s wings spread, and it took off from the roof, flying out over the yard a ways before arching up and over the mansion, out of Ceony’s line of sight.

“Hmm,” she hummed, pulling away from the window.

Down the hall she spied Mg. Bailey speaking to one of the maids who came by thrice a week to clean the few lived-in portions of the house. Ceony hurried up to her bedroom before he had a chance to spot her.



Ceony drew her thumb across the crease of a dog-ear Fold, careful to ensure its edges lined up perfectly before inserting the newly formed triangle into a notch on the skeletal arm she was constructing on the breakfast table. Another hour or two and she’d have it finished and ready to test. If it didn’t work, she’d have to go over each and every paper and Fold to find the mistake. If she couldn’t find it, she’d have to start over. Fortunately, she was confident that she’d seen Jonto’s arms enough times to get this spell right. The challenge was to make the arm act as its own whole, instead of a piece of a larger body.

#1. Something to open a door. Once she made the wrist fully functional, this contraption would do just that, and she could cross the first requirement for her magician’s test off the list.

Fennel barked from his perch on the bed, his paper body barely heavy enough to dent the mattress. He hovered over Ceony’s ledger and growled—which sounded more like a piece of paper flapping in the wind—then bit down on the mimic spell protruding from the ledger’s cover. Two jerks of his head pulled it free.

Ceony bounced onto her feet and rushed over to the pup, tugging the spell from his mouth. As she watched, Mg. Aviosky’s stiff penmanship scrawled across it in black ink, as though it were being written by a ghost:

I don’t want you involving yourself in this, Miss Twill.

Biting her lip, Ceony took the spell to the breakfast table and wrote back, in pencil, You promised you’d tell me. I need to know.

A dot of black ink appeared below Ceony’s words, growing larger with each passing second. Mg. Aviosky had set her pen down, likely debating her response, and the ink saturated the paper on her end. Finally she wrote, He was spotted in Reading not long ago. Yes, he’s still in England. Mg. Hughes believes he’s trying to collect funds and false papers in order to escape through Europe unscathed.

Again the pen soaked the paper. Mg. Aviosky’s hesitant hand penned, Mg. Juliet Cantrell has been murdered.

Blood withdrew from Ceony’s face and hands. Mg. Juliet Cantrell—Ceony knew her, though not personally. Criminal Affairs. A Smelter. She’d been involved in the hunt for Grath Cobalt. According to Emery, she was the one who had arrested Saraj in Saltdean.

Her eyes focused on Mg. Aviosky’s last word: murdered.

Images of Delilah’s wide, panicked eyes filled her vision. The way she’d struggled against her restraints in that chair as Grath grabbed her neck . . .

Ceony squeezed her eyes shut for several seconds, waiting out a chill that slid down her spine. Opening her eyes, she wrote, He killed her?

Ripped out her heart. Mg. Hughes isn’t sure if he’s used it yet.

Ceony pressed her hand to her chest, feeling her own heartbeat speed. Stolen her heart. Just as Lira had stolen Emery’s. Just as Saraj had wanted to steal hers at the dock. Except Juliet didn’t have anyone to steal it back for her. How much time had passed since Saraj . . . But would he have even left Mg. Cantrell’s body whole enough to be revived?

Ceony shuddered. Her stomach twisted and knotted around itself, sending bile climbing up her throat. She swallowed hard.

Saraj had said he still needed a heart in Reading. He’d gone for Mg. Cantrell’s. If Ceony had only stopped him then . . .

She paused, and for a moment her whole self felt empty. Had Saraj stolen Mg. Cantrell’s heart because she had gotten too close to finding him, or had he stolen it because Mg. Cantrell had been one of two magicians responsible for his imprisonment?

Nausea replaced the emptiness. Emery had been the other.