A Far Wilder Magic by Allison Saft

Author:Allison Saft
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: St. Martin's Publishing Group

18

By the time afternoon fills the manor with drowsy golden sunlight, Wes is still sleeping. Margaret can’t blame him, considering they got home at almost midnight and he’s kept himself awake for almost a week straight. Besides, after his performance last night, he deserves to stay in bed all day.

She can hardly believe he actually pulled it off. After fighting her way through the exposition crowds, she saw the moment alchemical light illuminated his face, as radiant as a grounded star. For the first time in years, it struck her that alchemy can be eerily beautiful. That maybe it can do more than hurt.

And now, if she places well in the shooting contest this week, they’ll make first flight. They’ll have a real chance at winning.

In her room, Margaret finds Trouble curled up on her bed and napping in a pool of milky sunlight. She has half a mind to kick him off, but she can’t bring herself to do it. Thanks to Wes, she feels tender and hopeful today—and strange for it. It makes her crave his company, which won’t at all do.

It’s bad enough that she’s done something that she can’t undo: allowed herself to acknowledge, even once, the pull between them. She can endure her idle imaginings of what use they could make of this empty house, with its hidden alcoves and sun-warmed nooks. She can live with the knowledge of what he looks like unarmored and braced on his knees over her. But what feels dangerous is the way her stomach flutters when she remembers how he hugged her last night as though it were the most natural thing in the world. His smile was so wide and guileless. Joyful. His free and easy affection reminds her too much of what she’s lost—and what she can lose again.

Margaret unlatches the window and tips her face into the cool caress of the wind. It’s too late to train again unless she wants to be caught out after dark, but she may as well make use of all this restless energy. It’d be a shame if Wes upstaged her.

She fetches her tool kit from the closet, pulls her rifle from its mount on the wall, and settles onto the floor. Disassembling and cleaning her gun is her own kind of worship, a task she could do blindfolded. By the time she finishes lubricating the metal and polishing the stock finish to gleaming, she’s light-headed with the smell of kerosene and lead. The wood gleams in the sunlight, gold and warm as honey.

“Trouble.”

He jolts upright. One ear folds in on itself.

“Trouble,” she drawls, more playfully this time.

He watches her from his spot on the bed, his tail thumping softly against her sheets. He knows he’s not supposed to be up there, but he also knows she’s gone soft today. A better trainer would set him straight, but she’s never minded a little precociousness now and again.

Margaret slings her rifle over her shoulder. “Want to go outside?”

His ears perk.

“Come on. Let’s go.

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