I gave Phelan a flat expression. “Is that the most imagination you have? I wouldn’t have turned him into a mouse.” And I brought my gaze back to Deacon, softened by his eagerness, his toothless smile. “I would have turned you into a hawk, maybe. A bird who could soar through the clouds. Or a wise fox who knows all the secret ins and outs of the house.”

“Or a dragon?!” he cried hopefully.

“Alas, a dragon would not fit in this library. And you might catch all the books on fire,” I said.

That made sense to him. He nodded, but his eyes were glazed, as if his mind was whirling with possibilities. “Have you ever turned a human into an animal, Miss Neven?”

“No, I haven’t,” I responded honestly. “That is very risky magic. It’s not that difficult to turn a human into something else if the magician has the imagination and the right spell work, but it’s far trickier to return the human back to how they once were. A change is made in the process, and it’s easy to err.”

“That does sound hard,” Deacon mused. “Have you done it, Mr. Vesper?”

Phelan shook his head in a negative response and motioned for the boy to come closer. “Why don’t you go and see if your grandmama needs help with dinner. Miss Neven and I will be right behind you.”

“All right,” Deacon said, but he gave me a smart little bow. “I’m very pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Neven!”

I smiled, and warmth began to seep in my chest. It emanated a shallow ache, the sort of ache one feels when they have run too far, or when they are about to be reunited with someone they have missed for years.

An ache of stone being shifted, and I couldn’t believe it. Not this soon. Not by the kindness I had met here, the welcome and the genuine smiles. Not by the sweet adoration of a little boy and his toothless grin. This would not be my undoing, I vowed, and struggled to steady my heart, dwelling on the fact that I’d once had such things until they had been taken from me.

I drew in a deep breath until the ache eased, but Phelan was regarding me intently.

“Are you well, Miss Neven?”

I forced a smile, although I could only wonder what lurked in my gaze when I looked at him. “I think I’m just hungry.”

“Then come, let me take you into the dining room.”

I trailed him out of the library, down the main corridor—my eyes seeking mirrors of all shapes and sizes. The dining hall was a narrow chamber occupied by a table, velvet-lined chairs, and a marble hearth alight with a fire. Mrs. Stirling was just setting down the last dish.