floors, pointing out the music room, the technical library (where all his study materials lay, along with two very large maps), a few guest bedrooms, his bedroom, a drawing room, trophy room, deck, and study. Farther in, he indicated another drawing room, two “dressing rooms,” a materials room for magic crafting, a private sitting room, a study just for apprentices, and an assortment of different-sizedlavatories. A small one resided just outside Ceony’s bedroom. If the sheer, needless vastness of the mansion didn’t make Ceony’s head spin, the idea of having her own bathing room did. Even at Tagis Praff she’d never had that luxury.
Bennet opened the door to her room, which had indeed been overwarmed by the afternoon sun. It had a long off-white rug running perpendicular to the dark oak floorboards, which readily creaked under their footsteps. A rather large bed with rose-colored blankets sat in the middle of the room, extending out from the length of wall between two westward-facing windows. A dainty glass table and two white chairs for private breakfasting were arranged in one corner. Against the wall with the door rested a large wardrobe, and across the corner from it, a tall dresser.
It was one of the smaller bedrooms Ceony had seen in the mansion, but it was easily two and a half times the size of her room at the cottage.
The cottage. Ceony missed it already.
Bennet set her suitcase down on one of the chairs. “I’ll give you a chance to settle in, and I’ll call you down to dinner, unless you’d like to eat alone in your room.”
“No, no, I’ll come down,” she said, feeling a little lost in the wide space.
“Do you like it? I could move you,” Bennet offered. “I made sure to dust it this morning, and the sheets are clean. Is it too hot? Oh, I forgot the pitcher and basin.”
Ceony smiled. “It’s lovely, and I don’t need a pitcher with a lavatory right next door,” she said. “Thank you. It’s just different, that’s all.”
Bennet nodded, seeming pleased. “All right. My window is just below yours, so if you want to send a paper messenger to me for anything, please do.”
“Perfect,” Ceony said.
Bennet hesitated a moment, then nodded and excused himself. Ceony took the time to hang up her clothes and organize her personal items until dinner, which Mg. Bailey took in his office. Afterward, Ceony arranged her study materials in her dresser drawers. She could use one of the desks in the apprentices’ study tomorrow. She slid her charm necklace around her neck and under her blouse, then reanimated Fennel, who sniffed about his new surroundings with a papery vigor.
Letting out a sigh, Ceony leaned against the mattress of the bed, surprised at how soft it felt. The sun had just begun to set, but perhaps she would turn in early and get a fresh start tomorrow. She did have a lot of work ahead of her.
A faint tapping on the rightmost window caught her attention. Lifting its curtains, she spied a turquoise paper butterfly hovering outside the glass. A message from Bennet?
It took a few heaves to open the seldom-used windowpane. Once she did, the butterfly fluttered in and gracefully landed on the glass table.
“Cease,” she said, stilling its wings. She turned it over and unfolded it, recognizing the handwriting hidden inside its body immediately. Bennet hadn’t sent this spell.
Emery had.
C HAPTER 8
C EONY CAREFULLY UNFOLDED the rest of the butterfly. The message had been scripted in pen—the copper-toned one Emery kept on his nightstand. The beautiful, flawless curves of each stroke made her smile before her mind even sorted out the words.
I hope this finds your room and not the housemaid’s. There’s nothing like jam and cold bread to make a man appreciate a woman.
Setting the butterfly down, Ceony retrieved a few pieces of paper she had packed into her bag—it was always smart for a Folder to carry a personal supply—and wrote out her response in the center of a
Bennet opened the door to her room, which had indeed been overwarmed by the afternoon sun. It had a long off-white rug running perpendicular to the dark oak floorboards, which readily creaked under their footsteps. A rather large bed with rose-colored blankets sat in the middle of the room, extending out from the length of wall between two westward-facing windows. A dainty glass table and two white chairs for private breakfasting were arranged in one corner. Against the wall with the door rested a large wardrobe, and across the corner from it, a tall dresser.
It was one of the smaller bedrooms Ceony had seen in the mansion, but it was easily two and a half times the size of her room at the cottage.
The cottage. Ceony missed it already.
Bennet set her suitcase down on one of the chairs. “I’ll give you a chance to settle in, and I’ll call you down to dinner, unless you’d like to eat alone in your room.”
“No, no, I’ll come down,” she said, feeling a little lost in the wide space.
“Do you like it? I could move you,” Bennet offered. “I made sure to dust it this morning, and the sheets are clean. Is it too hot? Oh, I forgot the pitcher and basin.”
Ceony smiled. “It’s lovely, and I don’t need a pitcher with a lavatory right next door,” she said. “Thank you. It’s just different, that’s all.”
Bennet nodded, seeming pleased. “All right. My window is just below yours, so if you want to send a paper messenger to me for anything, please do.”
“Perfect,” Ceony said.
Bennet hesitated a moment, then nodded and excused himself. Ceony took the time to hang up her clothes and organize her personal items until dinner, which Mg. Bailey took in his office. Afterward, Ceony arranged her study materials in her dresser drawers. She could use one of the desks in the apprentices’ study tomorrow. She slid her charm necklace around her neck and under her blouse, then reanimated Fennel, who sniffed about his new surroundings with a papery vigor.
Letting out a sigh, Ceony leaned against the mattress of the bed, surprised at how soft it felt. The sun had just begun to set, but perhaps she would turn in early and get a fresh start tomorrow. She did have a lot of work ahead of her.
A faint tapping on the rightmost window caught her attention. Lifting its curtains, she spied a turquoise paper butterfly hovering outside the glass. A message from Bennet?
It took a few heaves to open the seldom-used windowpane. Once she did, the butterfly fluttered in and gracefully landed on the glass table.
“Cease,” she said, stilling its wings. She turned it over and unfolded it, recognizing the handwriting hidden inside its body immediately. Bennet hadn’t sent this spell.
Emery had.
C HAPTER 8
C EONY CAREFULLY UNFOLDED the rest of the butterfly. The message had been scripted in pen—the copper-toned one Emery kept on his nightstand. The beautiful, flawless curves of each stroke made her smile before her mind even sorted out the words.
I hope this finds your room and not the housemaid’s. There’s nothing like jam and cold bread to make a man appreciate a woman.
Setting the butterfly down, Ceony retrieved a few pieces of paper she had packed into her bag—it was always smart for a Folder to carry a personal supply—and wrote out her response in the center of a
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