Page 93 of The Trick of It

“I cannot imagine you focused enough for intensive rehearsals,” Nini was saying to Rhys. “You seem a distractible sort, if you don’t mind me saying. You’ve a unique disposition.”

“My disposition? Well, that is a sad story,” he answered, winking at Seph. “An odd gentleman I suspect was of the fair folk approached me once when I was a child and said, ‘Young man, may I have your attention?’ and, foolish lad that I was, I gave it to him.”

Seph rolled her eyes, swallowing down her own chuckle, and moved across the room to where she was being beckoned by Merlin, alone in his chair.

“I’ve a bit of a problem,” Merlin began as she took the seat next to him. “A quandary.”

“Oh?” she replied.

“Yes, I’m afraid I promised to choose a winner amongst this group. You recall?”

“I certainly do,” she answered, taking his empty cup from his hands and motioning for a footman to come refill it with ice. “Are you rethinking that promise?”

Merlin sighed. “Yes. How am I supposed to choose?”

“Pick a name out of your hat,” she suggested. “That’s what I would do.”

“I don’t have a hat,” Merlin replied, his eyes twinkling enough that she laughed.

“Well,” she said, “tomorrow is the seance. You can always ask for the opinion of the ghosts. Given our location and the stones this house was built from, I imagine there are many of them about, and all with opinions.”

“The ghosts of Lewes Priory?” Merlin asked, giving a dry chortle. “They will favor the Catholic priest, of course. That wouldn’t be fair at all.”

“Well, now,” she said, thickening the Irish in her accent, “I’m Catholic too.”

“We’re all pagans at heart, lovely,” Merlin said with a sigh, shaking his head. “What do you think we’re doing here?”

She tilted her head to the side, acknowledging this observation. It was fair enough.

“Are you going to keep that man of yours?” Merlin asked. “After?”

“Oh, yes,” she said, accepting the refilled glass of ice and handing it gently to Merlin. “He’s not getting away again. I’ve got ropes.”

“Excellent,” said Merlin. “You know, I think the only reason I was ever invited to perform in the Grand Pavilion was because the Baroness Selwyn thought the two of you would enjoy it. After you stopped performing there in the summers, I stopped getting invited.”

“Oh,” said Seph, frowning. “My apologies. That was my fault, you know. My folly.”

He shook his head. “It is all right. The whole point of being alive is to make folly and learn how to avoid it next time. The only injustice is that we only get one life for all those lessons. Imagine how well we could do if we got to keep eighty years of knowledge and start again as babes.”

“Merlin,” she said seriously. “That sounds horrible.”

It made him laugh again, thin and wheezing, his narrow shoulders shaking. “Maybe it does,” he conceded. “Maybe it does.”

She produced the fool’s gold from her sleeve, where she’d tucked it back in during the performance, and held it out to him. “For you,” she said. “For the love of folly.”

“And for protection?” he asked, holding a shaking hand out to accept them. “From the fair folk?”

“No,” she said, watching his fingers curl over the glinting nuggets and holding them tightly. “You don’t need protection from your own.”

Part X

The Grand Finale

Chapter Thirty-Two

At Madame Ivanova’s request, every jack-o’-lantern in the grange house was brought to the ballroom on the afternoon of Samhain.

“Won’t this scare away your spirits?” Father Yuri asked skeptically, placing his double-slashed Orthodox cross turnip next to Father Wheeler’s grinning one. “And ruin the show?”