"Someone's looking for you?" Cyan asked.

I said nothing.

"Come on," she said. "Let's get out of here before the mystery man finds you."

The three of us dodged the crowd and made our way down the flight of steps back to the other side of the cobbled street. We ducked into an alleyway and waited for him to pass. When he did, none of us dared to breathe, terrified that he would see us. The Shadow continued without a sideways glance. We made our way toward the Nickel Quarter.

The people were thick enough to give us cover but not impede us. My breath caught in my throat as we followed. Perhaps he would take us back to the same building. Or perhaps he would take us somewhere else.

Cyan's gaze fixed on the hat. For a moment, I was worried that this was a ploy a that she knew exactly who he was. Why else would he have been here at the same time as us, in the entire sprawl of Imachara? When she saw me looking, her features smoothed. Did she know him?

The Shadow walked with purpose, head up, back straight, hands deep in his pockets. A balloon vendor obscured our vision, and we impatiently pushed around her. When we emerged from behind the multi-colored balloons, we barely saw him turn a corner. Our feet thumped along the cobblestones.

He stopped in front of a tenement. We jumbled to a halt. The back of Cyan's hand brushed mine, her skin warm. With bated breath, we watched as the Shadow slid a key from his pocket into the lock and made his way inside.

"It's no use," I moaned. "It'll be just like the other building, where we'll never see him again, and it's not as if we know which room is his, even if he does live here."

"You need to know where he lives?" Cyan asked.

We said nothing.

"I have an idea." Cyan walked toward the door of the building. Drystan and I followed at a safe distance, poised to run if it turned out she was in league with the Shadow.

Cyan shook her hair from its plait, letting it flow free down her back. She let her shawl hang closer to her elbows. The collar of her dress was high, but the posture was still alluring. She glanced back at us and gave us a dazzling smile. We both gawped back.

Confidently, she rapped on the door and spoke to the porter, with much flicking of her hair.

"Why do I have the feeling she's done this before?" I wondered aloud.

"Oh, she most definitely has," Drystan said, admiringly.

My merriment faded. Drystan's eyes locked on her as she charmed the doorman. I had never learned such feminine wiles. My childhood friend Anna Yew had mastered the art of flirting a gazing coquettishly over a fan at a ball, knowing just what to say to have men hanging onto her every word. I'd always been the one to make them laugh. But now, I had not mastered masculine wiles, either, come to think of it.

Looking at Cyan so comfortable in her skin struck me to the core. I could never imagine flirting with such assurance. The porter blushed beet red, and when he answered her questions, she giggled and kissed him on the cheek before sauntering back toward us, her hair swaying from side to side.

I fought the urge to harrumph. The curl of Drystan's lips made me wonder if he knew exactly what I was thinking.

"Well, you're in a pretty pickle, and that's the truth," she said. "What with a Shadow after you and all."

"Um," I said. But there was a tension in her neck and shoulders, and she glanced over her shoulder at the building.

As if she sensed my gaze, she relaxed into a smile.

"Shadow Kam Elwood lives on the third floor in suite G," she said.

"Wow," Drystan said. "Well done, Miss Cyan."

"He's evidently a nice enough fellow. Tips now and again and always has a smile."

"How did you get him to tell you that?" I asked. And did you know his name already? I wanted to ask.

"I said I was one of his clients' maids, and that she was so impressed with his service that she wanted to surprise him with a present. She knew the building but not the number to send it to, and struggled with the spelling of his name."

"Wow, he's a gullible fellow," Drystan said.

"I suppose he is. Rather handsome, though, don't you think?"

"His face is a bit too blocky for my tastes," Drystan said, deadpan.

She laughed. "Aha! I knew it!"

"Knew what?" Drystan said, innocent as a lamb.

She chuckled. "Pity, you're just my type. What about you, Sam?"

"Oh, so I'm second choice? Way to make a boy feel special," I drawled.

She glanced between us. "Aha. I see."

Drystan did not miss a beat and smirked, snaking his hand around my shoulders. I sputtered as the implication sunk in. I shot a glance at Drystan. His expression only said "come on, play along."

I rested my healed broken arm around his slender waist, leaning against him. It did not feel like playing along. The memory of putting my hand around Aenea's waist cut me, and I almost took my hand away.

Cyan sashayed ahead of us, her hair swaying like a pendulum.

When she was out of earshot, he leaned close: "She knows more than she's letting on."

"Undoubtedly."

Drystan kept his arm about my shoulders the entire walk home.

12.

THE VANISHING GIRL.

"Oftentimes the answers that you seek are not the ones you were expecting to receive."

Elladan proverb.

There was a knock on the door.

We all started. I spilled a bit of my tea on the worn table. The knock sounded again. Cyan, Drystan and I all froze like rabbits spotted by a fox.

"I'll get it," Maske said, amused at our apprehension.

We waited as his heavy footsteps made their way down the hall. Who was it? Shadow Elwood? The constabulary? Should we run?

"Good morning, Madame! Ah, I see all the parcels are here. Always a pleasure for such a lovely woman to stand on my threshold." Maske called, loud enough for us to hear. I heard a giggle. "Oh my, what a rogue you are, Jasper!"

Jasper? I mouthed at Cyan and Drystan, raising an eyebrow.

"Come in, come in," Maske said. "Leave the parcels here in the hallway and then you must have a cup of tea. No, no, I insist, just leave them there in the hallway. I'll put young Amon and Sam's backs to work later."

Drystan and I exchanged an alarmed glance. Why did Maske invite her inside? Luckily our Glamours were on, as we didn't yet trust Cyan.

Lily entered the kitchen, well turned out in a dress of cobalt blue trimmed in black lace. A ridiculous hat festooned with feathers and veils sat perched upon her head. She looked about in wide-eyed wonder.

"This place is a marvel. An utter marvel," she said. "I can't wait to see it when it's bright and cheery."

"Is it as gloomy as that, my dear Mrs Verre?" Maske asked.

"Just a little," she said, crinkling her eyes at him. "It needs a good dusting, that's for sure! When it gets closer to the time for you to open, I'd be happy to come lend a hand on an afternoon."

I frowned, not sure if we should be letting strangers into the theatre.

"You are too kind, my lady," Maske demurred, but two spots of color appeared on his cheekbones.

My eyebrows rose.

"Oh, Jasper, I'm no lady, so call me Lily." She waved her hand carelessly and then sipped her tea, crinkling her eyes at Maske. She only had eyes for him and barely glanced at the rest of us. I considered Maske. He was a fine-looking man, with those doleful eyes and mysterious smile.

The cat, Ricket, stretched and padded his way over to investigate the new intruder. Lily crouched under the table to say hello. We perched around the table. Lily and Maske flirted with each other. Cyan hid a smile behind her hand.

Lily chatted away, her mind jumping from topic to topic with a speed I could not follow. Soon, I gave up and just watched in amazement as she kept on.

After drinking three cups of tea, Lily begged to use "the facilities" before making her way back home. I escorted her to the washroom, not wanting her curiosity to lead her down darkened hallways. As I waited for her, I rubbed my temples. Maybe Drystan was right, and small doses of Lily Verre were more than enough.

"This place is a treasure trove!" she exclaimed as we walked back to the kitchen. "Well and truly. My offer to help make it presentable still stands. I mean it," she said, taking my hand in hers.

"We'll definitely keep you in mind." I disengaged my hand. The thought of an entire afternoon with her made my temples throb anew.

She bid her farewells, giving each of us kisses on both cheeks. Her lips lingered on Maske's, and his face split into an inane grin. Before Lily, I had a feeling it had been many years since a woman kissed him.

"What a marvelous woman," Maske said, more to himself than us. "Extraordinary. Such vivacity!" He shook his head in amazement.

Drystan, Cyan, and I all exchanged smiles.

"Well, that's quite enough of that," Maske said, briskly. "Let's to our lessons."

It was dark inside the spirit cabinet.

The bonds chafed my wrists and brought back memories of Bil leaning over me, the sharp smell of whisky on his breath, the pain as I dislocated my thumbs to break free. My breath came faster.

"Are you ready?" Maske called.

"Almost!" Drystan said. "Are you alright?" he whispered close to my ear.

"I've remembered I don't like being tied up overmuch."

"Ah."

Inhale. Exhale. I forced my breath to slow.

"It's fine," he whispered. "Remember. You can escape these bonds at any time." His lips rested against my forehead, light as a sparrow's wing. He leaned away from me, though our shoulders still touched. The dim light fell on the eyelashes resting against the curve of his cheek, the slope of his nose and the curl of his lips.

Inhale. Exhale.

"Ready!" Drystan called.

"On my count," Maske said. "One, two, three!"

In a thrice, we were free from our bonds. Drystan dropped through the trapdoor at the bottom and I slipped behind the hidden mirrors.

I heard the door open.

"As you can see," Maske said to our audience of one, Cyan, "the magicians have disappeared into the ether in the blink of an eye, the magic too much for their veins."

The door slammed shut. I counted in my head as Maske continued his patter, describing how magic was all around us and all we had to do was know how to tap into its hidden power.

When I counted to twenty, I slipped back into the darkened spirit cabinet, looping my bonds loosely about my neck.

The door opened.

I stepped calmly onto the stage, the ropes slithering from my neck and onto the stage like snakes. Cyan clapped.

"Two have freed themselves and one has gone. Or has he?" Maske gestured to the empty audience. Drystan emerged onto the balcony, unruffled, the bonds about his neck.

Cyan jumped from her seat and laughed in delight, clapping even louder. We had kept this trick from her as a surprise.

"Marvelous! Is it the finale?" she asked.

"Oh, no, no, my dear." He took her hand and led her onto the stage. "This is practice. You, Cyan, are the finale."

She cocked her head. "Me?"

"I have designed a trick that shall be magnificent," he said. "It will take a lot of work to get it right, but if we succeed, we will be the talk of Imachara."

Drystan and I had already been the talk of Imachara. Again, I wondered why I was so intent on learning magic, despite how dangerous it could be. But even still, I wanted to learn, to perform. And it'd only take one sell-out performance to give us enough money to leave Ellada behind. Though the more time passed, the less I wanted to leave.

Maske continued. "It'll take perfect timing. There can be no room for error, for if there is, it could be dangerous."

"Dangerous?" Cyan echoed.