The Paper Magician

She touched the broken paper pieces, feeling as crumpled as Fennel’s lifeless, misshapen head.

“This isn’t you,” Ceony whispered, pulling a cold finger back from her dog’s lifeless form. “This isn’t who you are!”

“Ha!” Shadow-Emery barked. “Do you even know who I am?”

His fingers seized her hair once more and hauled her to her feet. “Dark and dangerous waters . . . ,” he repeated.

A new laughter—Lira’s laughter—filled the room, and Ceony felt herself crack like a hot glass pan set in snow. She didn’t see the woman, however, and Shadow-Emery didn’t seem to hear her. At least, he didn’t react.

“Didn’t you know, little girl?” Lira’s distant voice echoed through the dark office, as if her larynx had been embedded into the very walls. “The rules of Excision are very clear cut, especially for the heart.”

“I d-don’t understand,” Ceony said with a dry tongue, her eyes locked on Shadow-Emery’s, her fingers clutching his to keep him from pulling her hair from her scalp.

Lira laughed again, the sound somewhat fainter. “No man can harm his true love within his own heart. Don’t you see what that means?

“He doesn’t love you, you beef-witted girl.”

She laughed again, thinking the situation truly wholesome and fun, and then the noise faded. Where she went, Ceony didn’t know—the laughter died out like a fire caught in the rain. With Ceony so thoroughly trapped, Lira must have abandoned the heart to finish whatever it was she had planned. Another gruesome spell. Escape across the ocean, with Emery’s heart in tow.

Emery would die if she did.

More tears trickled down Ceony’s face, and she squeezed Shadow-Emery’s wrist. “I know,” she whispered. I know you don’t love me.

Not yet.

And it was that last thought that drove her.

“Do you think you’re the only one who’s done something wrong?” she asked. “Do you really think no one in this world has made a mistake but you? Are you so blind that you can’t see beyond this room?”

Shadow-Emery snarled, but Ceony didn’t flinch. She dug her nails into his wrist until he released her hair; then she pushed him back. She would not be the mouse in this. She would not.

“What about Lira?” she asked, gesturing to the door as though the Excisioner stood behind it. “What about what she’s done?”

Shadow-Emery’s glower only darkened.

“What about me?” Ceony asked, fainter, pressing both palms to her own heart. “What about my mistakes? I think about them, too, but where would I be if I thought of nothing else? What sort of person would I be if I drowned in them?

“What about the time I was supposed to pick up my baby sister from school because my mom was having surgery on her foot?” she asked. “It was the middle of January, but I didn’t go because I had a diorama I was supposed to present in English the next day and I wanted to get it done. It took me three hours, Emery! Three hours my sister stood in the cold, waiting for me. She got pneumonia and almost died because my homework was more important than her!

“And I’ve stolen before,” she continued, taking a small step forward. “I saw an old man drop six quid on the side of the street and I pocketed it. Took the long way home so he wouldn’t notice.”

Shadow-Emery cackled once more. “You think those are comparable to these blackened halls? You think your cold sister and sticky fingers tip the scales?”

“Who gave you the right to judge my mistakes against your own?” Ceony shot back. Her heart wrenched with guilt, twisting as her own memories bubbled up. “Do you want to know why I lived in the Mill Squats for so long? My dad had a good job as a chauffeur for the prime minister’s family, but when I was twelve I stole the buggy and crashed it into the queen’s wall. My dad lost his job and all our savings went to pay for that automobile. We had no money left, so we had to move to the gloomy side of town, all because of me. All because I wanted to drive a buggy and didn’t listen when my parents told me no.

“And what about Anise? Hm?” she asked, more tears sliding down her face. “Do you know about Anise Hatter? Do you?!”

Shadow-Emery didn’t answer.

“She was my best friend!” Ceony cried. “She was my best friend, and our first year of secondary school was hard on her. I don’t know why, because I never asked. She just waned, withdrew into herself, became sickly. And one day before winter break she asked me to come by and see her. Said she wanted to talk. I was late. It doesn’t matter why, but I was late. And when I got there I found her in her bathtub with her wrists slit up to her elbows.”