The Paper Magician

Faith is a very personal thing, really. Just because you don’t meet with a group of people once a week who believe everything exactly the way you do doesn’t mean you don’t believe in something.

Everyone has a dark side! But it’s their choice whether or not they cultivate it.

But she still had time. Surely she still had time. Stories like this one weren’t meant to end badly.

I don’t know how many women can claim to have walked a man’s heart, but I’ve walked yours,

Perhaps the man wasn’t so mad after all. Or maybe it’s a madness that I can learn to appreciate.

When I think about it . . . I guess I’ve just taken what bits and pieces I felt were right for me and made my own faith with them. Faith is a very personal thing, really. Just because you don’t meet with a group of people once a week who believe everything exactly the way you do doesn’t mean you don’t believe in something.

Perhaps in a heart, knowledge was more stable than memory or thought.

I think life would be much . . . simpler . . . if a man could believe in one solid thing,” he answered, still not looking at her. “Bits and pieces here and there do no good for a man’s soul. Thinking all of it is right or all of it is wrong does no good, either. Just as a magician cannot work all materials. He must choose one. But how does he know? How do these people believe in this faith, but not the others? Yet they are happy.

The ghostly images lasted only a moment longer before fading away, as all unread stories were wont to do.

Never dismiss the value of entertainment, Ceony. Good-quality entertainment is never free, and it’s something everyone wants.

Curse Emery Thane for being such a difficult man to rescue!

Or maybe it’s a madness that I can learn to appreciate.

I don’t know how many women can claim to have walked a man’s heart, but I’ve walked yours, Emery Thane. And I like the dog.

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?

ma always said the word damn came from beavers who gave up on their houses one stick short.

A heart that’s known love is stronger than one that hasn’t, did you know that?

Mg. Thane held his fork loosely in his hand. “I’ll not starve you, if that’s your worry.

Her head full of clouds, but not in the dreamy sense. Just the empty one.

I feel capable of achieving anything, for nothing worldly can possibly hold me back from my ambitions now.

For if rice and tuna was his for-guests meal, Ceony couldn’t imagine what the man ate when he dined alone. Perhaps Mg. Aviosky had assigned her here merely to ensure England’s oddest paper magician got some decent nutrition and didn’t wither away, leaving the country with only eleven paper magicians instead of twelve.

I guess I’ve just taken what bits and pieces I felt were right for me and made my own faith with them. Faith is a very personal thing, really. Just because you don’t meet with a group of people once a week who believe everything exactly the way you do doesn’t mean you don’t believe in something.

The heart had the dark to balance out the light, the uncertainty to balance dreams.

Do you believe in one thing, Ceony?” Her heart sped as he said her name. She considered the question. “I’ve never given it a great deal of thought. I suppose I don’t. I think I understand what you mean, about there being good in all faiths. In all gods, in all beliefs. When I think about it . . . I guess I’ve just taken what bits and pieces I felt were right for me and made my own faith with them. Faith is a very personal thing, really. Just because you don’t meet with a group of people once a week who believe everything exactly the way you do doesn’t mean you don’t believe in something.

She thought her ears would light with fire, her cheeks burn to ash, but the moment passed, as even the worst moments do.

Six days. The man had been gone six days, and that was all he had to say about it?

she exclaimed with all the anxiety of a worried mother, the sternness of an academy principal, and the relief of a farmer feeling spring’s first rain on his skin. Her

Anger. Infidelity. Death. Dark times—that’s what these memories were. Ceony had passed through Emery’s goodness and his hopes; it made sense to see his darkness, too. To see his hurts and his vices. To see the shadows cast behind those bright eyes.

she turned the page and scanned them again, committing them to memory.

He examined the paper, his eyes bobbing as he counted the pieces, and sighed, shoulders slumping. “I’m going to teach you something I really shouldn’t be teaching you.” “But given the circumstances,” she urged. He nodded. His lip quirked. “Given the circumstances. Just pretend to forget it once this is over . . . if either of us makes it past this.