Hold to the chair, I ordered myself. Don’t move, don’t rise, don’t utter a sound. Don’t answer him.

The flames rose with crackling intensity, but just as swiftly as they rose did they begin to die. Once my drawing turned into ash, when the spell had nothing more to devour, it would end.

“Clem!”

I closed my eyes, trembling.

If he had only looked at me, he would have known. He would have realized that his magic could not summon me because I was already present.

But his gaze remained on the fire, and I was nothing more than a distant constellation in that moment, gleaming at the edges of his sight. When the flames surrendered into cold smoke, he let out a tremulous breath, slamming his palm on the wood in defeat.

I opened my eyes and looked at him. Phelan was ashen. Sweat dripped off his chin, and his eyes were bloodshot.

“Where is she?” I asked. My voice felt like sand in my throat.

He remembered me, at last. His gaze found mine and he sighed, lowering himself to his chair.

“I don’t know. I must have done something wrong.”

If there was ever a time for me to reveal myself to him . . . it was now. After this moment passed, things would change between us. I could feel it like the gradual shifting of a season, like autumn giving way to winter snow.

But I was silent, unyielding.

There was too much I knew—he and Lennox wanted to find Mazarine—and so much I didn’t know—what did they plan to do with Mazarine? If I revealed myself to him now . . . I wasn’t sure what would happen, and I couldn’t take that risk.

I left him in the library, my drawing burned into ashes and my heart beating far too swiftly for my liking.

20

The day of the new moon arrived like any other, save for the fact that I slept in that morning until I was rudely woken by Phelan knocking on my bedroom door.

“Miss Neven?” His voice melted through the wood as he knocked again. “Are you awake?”

I groaned and blearily took note of the daylight that snuck in through a crack in the curtains. It couldn’t be later than nine o’clock, and I grumbled as I slipped from the bed, my hair a long, tangled mess down my back.

I opened the door to glower at Phelan, who had claimed I could sleep as late as I desired the night before, in preparation for battle.

To my immense annoyance, he had already showered and dressed. He smelled of soap and spicy aftershave and morning air. He had obviously taken a walk, and had probably already eaten breakfast as well.

“Yes, what is it, Mr. Vesper?” I sighed, and watched as he took note of my dishevelment.