Page 92

“I don’t understand,” said Saga. “She—someone took the violin as payment for the sword?”

Avery smiled gratefully for the correction.

“How much coin would a used violin fetch?”

“It wasn’t the coin,” said Avery. “In magic, as I’m sure you are well aware, things have worth and meaning because we give it to them. Coin is rarely of worth to a fey. It’s the attachment to sentimental items—the things it destroys us to give up—those are the true gold in magic. In that respect, there was nothing more valuable I had to offer than that violin.”

“What would someone do with it?”

This was something Avery also could not speak about freely. Saga could tell by the way her mouth contorted and the extra beats as she thought of how to answer. “A spell component. A focus for sympathetic magic, including hexes. It can be used as an anchor for a powerful geas. Or even an amplifier for a spell that has nothing to do with the original owner.”

“What kind of amplifier?”

“For example, if you were casting a spell to improve your own dedication to a craft, or though ill-advised, something like a spell for love or even obsession, you might use that violin to strengthen it as the object over the years was imbued with all of those qualities.”

“That works?”

“Like throwing black powder on a fire.”

Saga’s brow furrowed. “Do you think…the person who took the violin still has it?”

Avery shook her head. “A puzzle for another time. It is getting late, and we need to be sharp for Luna’s funeral rite tomorrow.”

Chapter 24 Avery

There was little about the Ephemeral gallery that seemed any kind of ephemeral at all to Avery. Firstly, it was exceedingly permanent in its construction, a steel frame wrapped in stonework. The interior further sold this idea of lasting even through an apocalyptic event—it might have once been a tenement house that was gutted for repurpose, but partially through the arduous process, it appeared that dream had been abandoned, leaving beams exposed and walls bare.

“Do you see anything of note?” Saga asked at her side.

“A flagrant abuse of the English language,” Avery muttered. “Though I suppose the title may refer more to something droll and metaphorical such as the ephemeral nature of mortality.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Mortality by definition is ephemeral in the grand scheme of the universe, so it does seem painfully redundant.” She met Saga’s gaze, searching for the confirmation in her companion’s expression that this was a valid argument, but the other woman was bemused. Avery sighed with a click of her tongue. “I assume you are referring to the congregation of mourners, all of whom look vaguely on their way to a fancy dress party.” She indicated the flowing fabrics and cuts of robes and dresses. “Have you realized that I have only been active in the present time for approximately two months, and in that time I have attended three funerals, thanks to you?”

“Thanks to all the murders, I think you mean,” said Saga under her breath. “This isn’t exactly a pastime of mine.”

Avery sucked air through her teeth on the side of her mouth. “Yet, you are passing the time here—when did black become the custom at funerals? I imagine the expense of black dye lowering helped.”

“The same reason so many wear white on their wedding day now,” Saga explained. “Emulating Queen Victoria.”

Avery smiled a little at that. She had vague memories of the young girl taking the throne, barely eighteen with a country looking to her. She’d wondered how the woman had fared, but she had been so mired in trying to acclimate to the present, she hadn’t had a moment to look at the past. “Was she so beloved?”

“Very,” said Saga. “Almost as much as she loved her husband. After Albert passed, they say she wore black the rest of her days. Their love story became a sort of tragic fairy tale. Forty years in mourning.”

It must have felt like ages to Victoria, and yet Avery could not help but think of what forty years was to a mortal as opposed to her own lifespan. The dream of her friends surfaced at the back of her mind. Her eyes swept over gauzy black shawls and draped celestial fabrics over the windows. “And now we mourn in black to show how deeply we loved someone…” She found her gaze pulling to Saga, unable to quiet the thought that one day, far sooner than Avery would ever want, she would dress in black for her too.

It was fortunate Saga could not read Avery’s exact thoughts, but she must have seen something concerning. “Are you all right?”

Avery’s mind flailed for deflection. “Should I have worn something else?”

“What?”

“Well, I did not love her. I did not even know her.” It was not a great save, but it did distract Saga from guessing Avery’s actual line of thinking.

Saga hushed her and pulled Avery toward the corner by her elbow. “I’m going to mingle and see if I can dig up any information on Luna. You look around for anyone acting suspiciously.”

It was the plan they had decided on initially, and yet Avery couldn’t help but feel like she might have been guided into a role that purposefully avoided having her engage in conversation. Not that she had harbored any desire to converse…until the option had been so deliberately taken away.