The Master Magician by Charlie N. Holmberg

you know? Did you run into her?” Ceony swallowed. “Did she . . . send you a telegram?”
    Emery chuckled, but it wasn’t a happy laugh. “Oh no. Why use the telegraph when a certain nosy apprentice might be around to swipe the message? She found me through the lavatory mirror. And I believe it’s been approximately six hours since you stopped by her home to ask her about Saraj Prendi.”
    The creeping flush chilled white and sunk back into Ceony’s spine.
Aviosky! You couldn’t keep a secret if your life depended on it!
    But of course Mg. Aviosky had told Emery. Ceony was only an apprentice; Mg. Thane was technically her guardian.
    “I went shopping,” she said, wincing as the poor lie escaped her lips. She had no bags, no receipts. Nothing to prove it, and Emery knew her well enough to know she couldn’t tolerate window-shopping for six hours.
    She swallowed a sigh and straightened, but her five-foot-three frame had nothing on Emery’s. “I didn’t do anything wrong,” she said, moving down the hallway. She tried to pass him, but he caught her elbow.
    “By all means, enlighten me on what you did do,” he said.
    Ceony felt her own fire pulse outward from her chest. “I’m not dabbling with Excisioners, if that’s what you’re worried about,” she snapped, pulling her arm free.
    The reference to Lira—Emery’s ex-wife—was too hard of a blow, but Ceony stomped into the kitchen before she could glimpse his face. Fennel jumped up from where he lay by the dining room table, but Ceony ignored him and fled up the stairs to her bedroom. She dropped her purse on the floor—kicking it under the bed—and yanked the clip from her hair. Uneven orange curls tumbled over her shoulders. She shook them out before placing both hands on her hips, then sucked in one deep breath. Another.
    She didn’t even hear the paper magician’s footsteps approach her door, just his voice. “Ceony.”
    “I went to Gosport,” she said, not turning around.
    “Gosport and back in six hours?”
    “You’re not the only one with a glider,” she lied, hoping he wouldn’t call her out on it. “Magician Aviosky couldn’t tell me much, so I went to Gosport to look around. I didn’t find much, but Ithought I’d make the effort. I’ve gotten weary of letting our enemies find me first.”
    The door frame creaked as Emery leaned against it. “I thought you were over this—running off and taking matters into your own hands. I thought we talked about this. On several occasions.”
    She turned around. The fire had left his eyes, but his face remained mirthless. “You talked
at
me about it, maybe.” She sighed. “I’m not jumping through mirrors hunting down an Excisioner with a gun again.” Half lie. “Saraj wasn’t anywhere near Gosport.” Hopefully a lie.
    “But he could have been.”
    “He could also be in my closet,” she quipped. “Or hiding in the ivy.” She gestured to the window. “Or having tea with the butcher, biding his time until one of us needs a pound of pork. You yourself said that Saraj has no reason to come after us.”
Or does he?
North. Why did he go north?
    “Then you have no reason to go after him,” he replied. He stood straight and ran a hand back through his hair, making the waves fall unevenly about his face. “It makes me sick to think about it, Ceony. Lira, Grath . . . It’s like you have a checklist for dangerous criminals tucked into your pocket, and you won’t be satisfied until you’ve had a personal encounter with each.”
    Ceony folded her arms, more for comfort than out of anger. “I just want to know my family is safe.”
    “Are they?”
    It wasn’t a mocking question, just a prod into what Ceony had found. She debated telling him, but she didn’t want Emery dwelling on her unnatural use of magic. She’d kept the secret for too long to tell him now.
    “I don’t think he left England,” she replied, softer. “And if that’s true, I want to know why. Did you know