The Master Magician (27 page)

“What consequences?”

“You are a woman, Miss Twill,” Mg. Aviosky pointed out. She glanced toward the farthest exit door, where Ceony’s family was stepping out into the hallway. Ceony knew the magician’s focus was on Emery. “We are beginning to have more leverage in today’s society, especially as magicians. There are dozens of promising career choices for you, but Criminal Affairs is no place for a mother.”

That made Ceony pause. “I . . . don’t know what you mean.”

The Gaffer sniffed. “I am not naïve, Ceony, though I congratulate you on your modesty. Needless to say I’ll be surprised if you’re still ‘Miss Twill’ by Christmas. I merely wanted to present it as something to consider. Decide where you want your life to go before you set it rolling.”

Ceony’s cheeks tingled at the words, but she realized something. “You never call me by my first name.”

Mg. Aviosky smiled. “We’re equals now. It seems appropriate. As for the bonding . . . I’ll keep in touch to let you know what I decide.”

“Thank you.”

Mg. Aviosky walked up the aisle.

“Ceony?” asked a familiar voice from behind her.

She turned around and spied Bennet approaching from a nearby aisle.

“Bennet! You came.”

“Yeah,” he answered, rubbing the back of his neck. He stuffed his other hand in his pocket. “Congratulations. I knew you’d pass.”

“Thank you. Send my regards to Magician Bailey, if you would.”

“Oh, he’s here . . .” Bennet searched the auditorium. Ceony followed his gaze to Mg. Bailey, who stood near the back with his arms folded. He looked a little less sour, at least.

“But you probably need to go,” Bennet added. “I’ll tell him.”

She smiled. “Thank you.”

“So . . .” he dropped the hand from his neck. “You and Magician Thane are . . .”

The flush returned, but not strongly. “I . . . yes. That’s why Magician Bailey tested me. To avoid favoritism.”

“I had wondered.”

“Bennet—”

“I’m a bit surprised,” he confessed. “I admit I was a little jealous of you when you came to stay with us. You and Magician Thane seemed close. I envied your relationship. But I didn’t think you . . .” He shrugged. “I guess I didn’t think you were that kind of woman.”

Ceony’s muscles went rigid. “And
what
kind of woman would that be, Bennet Cooper?”

Bennet shook his head. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“No, you shouldn’t have,” Ceony retorted. Clasping her framed certificate to her chest, she said, “You’d better take the test soon, before Magician Bailey rubs off on you.”

Bennet took a step back as though the words had physically moved him, but Ceony didn’t stay to argue. She had only fondness for Bennet, and she didn’t want thoughtless words to change that. She’d lost enough friends.

Ceony hurried up the aisle to catch her family. However, upon exiting the auditorium, she found only Emery waiting for her.

He extended his hand. “Shall we?”

She took his hand and let him lead her outside. “We’re going to Ruffio’s, aren’t we?”

“Mm hm,” the paper magician replied. “Just in a different buggy.”

Ceony smiled—what a wonderful day this was turning out to be!—and reached up with her free hand, running it along the side of Emery’s head. “I still can’t get used to how short it is. Why did you cut it?”

“So I’d look more gentlemanly.”

Ceony snorted, but the mischievous glint in Emery’s eyes made her wonder if his statement was, perhaps, not a joke.

Emery didn’t call a buggy; he already had one parked outside the hall and just down the street. The driver waited by the engine and opened the door for them when they arrived, and he smiled when he saw Ceony’s uniform.
All of England will know I’m a Folder when I wear this
, she thought, leaning against the back of the seat.
No more aprons. I’m legitimate now. This time next year I might even have an apprentice of my own!

That boggled her mind. Would more Folders be assigned at the end of the school year? Was she even ready to train an apprentice?

“Maybe I’ll start volunteering at the school,” Ceony said. “Tagis Praff, I mean. Perhaps I can do a guest lecture or become a teaching assistant. There aren’t any Folders employed there, and more students might sign up for Folding if they understood it better.”

“Not a bad idea,” Emery said with a smile. “I’d comment on the commute, but I suppose your glassiness would get you there quickly.”

She nodded. “I’ll order a Gaffer’s mirror to minimize any accidents.”

“Only now does she think about minimizing accidents,” Emery murmured. He laughed. “You are an enigma, Ceony. To think how dull my life would have been over the last two years had I not been forced to tutor you . . .”

“
You
, forced?” Ceony scoffed. “Pardon me, Magician Thane, but I wanted to be a Smelter.”

“You want to be everything,” he countered.

“Well, if the option exists . . .” She grinned and turned in her seat, watching the late-afternoon sunlight whip through the buggy windows, dancing about Emery like fairies.

“Hmm?” he asked.

She exhaled slowly through her nose. “Just thinking.”

“About how much you adore me?”

“About how skinny you are,” she teased. “I leave for three weeks and you can’t even feed yourself properly.”

“I’ll amend it soon enough.”

Ceony began to speak, but spotted the post office outside Emery’s window. She turned about and looked out her own.

“We missed the turn,” she said. “Ruffio’s is down Steel Drive.”

“Oh, we’re not going to Ruffio’s just yet,” he explained. “We have a quick stop to make first. Your family knows.”

“I take it this is the ‘favor’ you asked my father about?”

“Mm.”

Ceony relaxed in her seat and pulled off her white gloves as she watched buildings and people zoom past her window. The stop was apparently not at all close to the bakery where she was to meet her family—the buggy continued down the road, pulling farther and farther away from Steel Drive. The buildings outside her window grew less commercial and shrank in size until they turned to houses, and then the spaces between houses stretched wider and wider. The
buggy eventually turned off the paved street and took a narrow dirt road that cut between two grassy knolls.

She turned back to Emery. “Where are we going?”

Rather than meeting her eyes, Emery looked ahead, watching the scenery unfurl through the windshield. “You’ll recognize it.”

Ceony, lip pinched between her teeth, twisted back for her window and leaned closer to it, fingers resting on the buggy door. Wind tousled her hair, but the clip holding it back remained firm.

The knolls grew in number as the buggy continued onward. Their grassy faces became wilder, more unkempt, and some began to sport trees. Wildflowers in shades of fuchsia, marigold, and amethyst coated an especially large hill just off the bumpy road, and the tips of grass were beginning to turn golden under the late-spring sun.

The buggy slowed, and Ceony stared at that flowery hill. She
did
recognize it, though she had never stepped foot on it, not in reality. No—this was a place cherished in Emery’s heart, one she had seen embedded in his hopes. One she had seen in the vision given to her by a fortuity box two years ago.

Her heart raced. It hammered against her ribs and the base of her throat. A cool sensation like falling water cascaded over her. She didn’t even notice that Emery had left the buggy until he came around to her door and opened it.

He took her hand. Leaving her framed certificate on the seat, Ceony stepped out of the buggy and followed Emery wordlessly up the hillside. Her heart pounded harder with each step, and not because of the exercise.

They reached the top of the hill, upon which grew a familiar maroon-leafed plum tree, its fruit only days from being ripe.

Emery paused, studying the plum tree and the view before turning to Ceony, who could read everything in his vivid, bright eyes. Her pulse beat with knowing.

She squeezed Emery’s hand and he leaned in to kiss her. A breeze laden with the scent of wildflowers danced around them.

He pulled back. Rested his forehead against hers. Looked into her eyes.

“I love you,” she whispered.

His eyes smiled. “I believe I’m supposed to do the talking, Miss Twill.”

She gazed at him, silent.

He released her hand and ran his fingertips along the sides of her neck, their noses a breath apart. “You are the kind of woman who makes me believe in God, Ceony,” he murmured. “I don’t know how else it could be possible to find you. For heaven’s sake, you even delivered yourself to my front door.”

She smiled. Her heartbeat steadied.

“How many men can honestly say a woman has walked their heart?” he asked. “But I can. And if you’ll have me, I’d like you to stay there.”

Tears welled in Ceony’s eyes. She didn’t blink them away.

Emery reached into his pocket and pulled from it a loop of white and violet paper about the width of his fist, made of dozens of tiny, crisscrossing links. Not a spell, just something crafted to be beautiful. From it hung a gold ring that glimmered rose in the sunlight. A diamond carved in the shape of a raindrop sat at its center, flanked on either side by a small emerald.

The paper magician slipped the ring off the paper loop and turned it in his hands. Dropping to one knee, he said, “Ceony Maya Twill, will you marry me?”

THE END

AN EXCERPT FROM
CHARLIE N. HOLMBERG’S

F
OLLOWED BY
F
ROST

Editor’s Note: This is an uncorrected excerpt and may not reflect the final book.

P
ROLOGUE

I
HAVE KNOWN COLD.

I have known the cold that freezes to the bones, to the spirit itself. The cold that stills the heart and crystallizes the blood. The kind of cold that even fire fears, that can turn a woman to glass.

I have seen Death.

The cold lured him to me. I saw him near my home, his dark hair rippling over one shoulder like thick forest smoke as he stooped over the bed of the quarryman’s only son. I saw his amber eyes as he tilted the rim of his wide-brimmed hat to greet me. I saw him kneel in the snow before me with his arms wide and heard him whisper,
Come with me
.

I have known cold, the chills with which even the deepest winters cannot compare. I have lived it, breathed it, and lost by it. I have known cold, for it dwelled in the deepest hollows of my soul.

And the day I broke Mordan’s heart, it devoured me.

C
HAPTER
1

T
HE FIRST BITE OF HONEY
taffy melted in my mouth. I savored its sweetness, spiced lightly with cinnamon imported from the Southlands beyond Zareed—strange, savage lands with strange people and stranger customs, but nothing in the Northlands could compare to their intense, exotic spices. Merchants only delivered the candies in the early spring, and their first shipment had arrived that morning. Together, Ashlen and I had bought nearly half a case. My satchel bulged with paper-wrapped taffies to the point where I had to switch the strap from shoulder to shoulder every quarter mile, the bag weighed on me so.

“My pa will be so angry if he finds out!” Ashlen laughed, covering her mouth to hide half-chewed taffy. Her plain, mouse-brown hair bobbed about her shoulders as she spoke. “I’m supposed to be saving for that writing desk.”

“This is a once, maybe twice-a-year opportunity,” I insisted, resting my hand on the satchel. “We could hardly let it pass us by.” I didn’t tell her that I had more than enough in my allowance to cover her share. If Ashlen needed a writing desk, her father could put in more hours at the mill.

Ashlen unwrapped another candy. “I could die eating these.”

I poked her in the stomach. “And you would die fat, too!”

We laughed, and I hooked my arm through hers as we followed the dirt path ahead of us. It wound from the mercantile on the west edge of Euwan, past the mill and my father’s turnery, clear to Heaven’s Tear—the great, crystal lake that hugged the town’s east side, and the only thing that put us on Iyoden’s map.