The Master Magician

Ceony felt herself soften, even smile. “I worried the same.”


Folding his arms, Emery leaned back against a navel-high bookshelf pressed against the wall. “Care to explain the pyrotechnics?”

Ceony blanched.

“I believe you told me you were not going to dabble in . . . this. After that day in hospital—”

“I know, but . . . how could I not do something with that information, Emery? How could I let a secret like that go to waste?”

“How could I think you wouldn’t pursue it?” he asked, more to himself than to her. “A Pyre,” he said, his voice light and incredulous. He rubbed his forehead. “And a Gaffer, too. Next thing I’ll be living with a Polymaker.”

Ceony bit her lip.

Emery straightened. “Polymaking? And . . . Siping? Smelting?”

Rubbing the back of her neck, Ceony said, “All of the above.”

He stood still as a statue for a moment before his expression fell. “Ceony,” he said, cool as a tombstone, “please tell me you haven’t tried—”

“No!” she said, louder than necessary. “Not Excision, Emery. You know what I’d have to do to . . . You know how I feel about that.”

“I know, I know,” he said, hands raised in surrender. “I’m sorry. It’s just . . . with Saraj, I don’t know how far you’d go—”

“Not that far,” she replied. “Never that far.”

They were silent for a moment.

“He’s here?” Ceony asked, dropping to a whisper.

Emery shook his head. “I’m not sure. I suspect he’s in Brackley. After hours—the building is empty. A safe holdup, but I have no hard evidence.”

“Magician Hughes sent you?”

“Ha . . . no. I assure you I broke my word entirely on my own.” He sobered. “Ceony, I don’t need to explain to you how much I don’t want you to be here. I’d be furious if it didn’t make me an utter hypocrite.”

“Same,” she said, though without malice. “But I think . . . I think the reason Saraj is in Brackley is that he’s heading to London after his chase with Magician Cantrell.”

Emery’s face fell at the mention of the Smelter.

Ceony pushed forward. “You see . . . I may have broken my promise first. I . . . ran into him in Reading.”

Color leached from Emery’s countenance. He lunged forward, gripped Ceony’s shoulders. “You what? Ceony—when—I—what happened? Did he—”

“He didn’t touch me,” she assured him, lifting one hand to his jaw. Despite the circumstances, it felt wonderful to be so near Emery again. It felt . . . safe. “I happened to be a Pyre at the time.”

Taking a deep breath, he released her and attacked his hair again. “A Pyre. Right. Because you know how . . . God’s mercy, Ceony.”

“I think he’s coming back for me, though,” she confessed, averting her eyes so she would not have to see any fear or disapproval in Emery’s face. “He thinks it’s a game, Emery. And I may be his playmate. That, and he knows I can break bonds. I hit him hard, but not hard enough.”

“We’re leaving,” he said, grasping her hand. “Please, Ceony. Come with me.”

The bud of a protest rose in her throat. She’d come so far. Prepared so much. She could do this. For Delilah, for Anise. She had the power. Couldn’t Emery see that?

She looked at his eyes, hard on the edges and glistening in the centers.

And she realized that no amount of power or preparation could put Emery’s heart at ease. His broken, beaten heart. More than anything else, she wanted to calm its tremors. Make it whole again.

I broke my promise, she thought. His actions aside, I broke my promise.

She nodded, and Emery heaved a heavy sigh. He reached for the door handle.

“Where were you?” she asked before he turned the knob. He paused, and she clarified: “I came to the cottage last week to find you, to tell you about Reading, but you weren’t there. Where were you?”

He glanced back at her. “You’ll have to be more specific.”

“Tuesday,” she said. “I searched for a hint . . . waited, but you never came. I left the note on your windowsill.”

A small smile touched his lips—almost a sheepish smile, of all things. Ceony had never before seen such an expression on his face. “Just out for a stroll.”

“You don’t stroll.” Why is he lying to me?

“I’ve had a lot of free time on my hands.”

“Emery Thane.”

He rolled his eyes without quite rolling them, his own small show of exasperation. “I was with your parents, Ceony. Your father, specifically.”

Ceony blinked, relaxed. “To warn them. They’re safe?”

Emery hesitated for a moment, and Ceony thought she saw the slightest glimmer of confusion, but he only nodded. “They’re well taken care of.”

A comfortable, hot-cocoa kind of warmth spread through her. “Thank you, for seeing after them. It means a—”

The red, iron-scented smoke filling the room broke off Ceony’s sentence. Emery stiffened and reached for her just as a sharp and resounding thud echoed through her skull, and the room went dark.