me,” he said. “I’ll do everything I can to help, I promise.”
“You always have,” Emily murmured. Except tell me the truth about anything.
The act of speaking with Stanton made her feel cross and lonely. Never mind. By this time tomorrow she’d be on a train back to California with twenty thousand dollars in her pocket, and that was all she cared about.
Without a word, Stanton reached over, took the stump of her ghost hand, and lifted it gently. He looked at it like a jeweler inspecting a broken watch.
“Professor Mirabilis didn’t tell me about this,” he said. “Where exactly is your hand?”
“It’s in another dimension,” Emily said. Stanton’s fingers were warm on her arm.
“I guessed as much,” he said. “The Institute has a world-renowned extradimensional research program. I might have applied for it if I hadn’t taken the Jefferson Chair—”
Emily jerked her arm away abruptly. “I’m sorry you didn’t,” she said. “I’m sorry you wasted so much of your precious time in Lost Pine. I’ll give everyone your regards when I get back.”
“You’re leaving?”
“Just as soon as this is over with. I’m going home.”
“To marry your lumberman, no doubt.”
“Yes,” Emily spat. “To marry my lumberman.”
Stanton blinked at her. “What?”
Emily didn’t reply. Nervously, she ran her index finger over the gold ring she wore on her thumb. When she realized what she was doing, she stopped abruptly. She lifted her hand to him, fighting to hold it steady.
“Mr. Stanton, will you please remove the ring from my thumb?” she asked. “I doubt we’ll be seeing much of each other after tonight, so it’s best that I return it now.”
Stanton made no move to take the ring.
“Are you really going to marry the lumberman?”
“Yes,” Emily said. “I’ve got a great future ahead of me, just like you’ve got a great future ahead of you.” She paused, letting her hand drop angrily. “Of course, your future will be far shorter than my future, but that hardly matters. Because our two futures won’t have anything to do with each other, given that I’m a skycladdische and you’re half a sangrimancer!”
Stanton stared at her, obviously absorbing the specifics of the outburst. He lifted a hand and rubbed his broad forehead with his thumb and forefinger.
“Well, I must say. I thought you said you wouldn’t stand to be squinked, but they’ve obviously been squinking you from here to next Sunday!”
“It’s not a squink if it’s the truth,” Emily hissed. “Is it?”
“What? That you’re a skycladdische, or that I’m half a sangrimancer?”
“That you’re dying.” Emily’s voice was low and resonant.
Stanton was silent for a long moment.
“We’re all dying,” he said eventually. “I’m just doing so at a more rapid pace than most.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because it wasn’t your business to know,” Stanton said.
Emily looked at him and was silent for a long time, her eyes searching his face.
“I figured that would be your answer,” she said. “That’s your answer when it comes to anything about yourself that’s real.”
Stanton let out a long sigh, his brow contracting darkly.
“I didn’t tell you because … because what’s done is done. You make a choice, and it seems right at the time, and …” He shook his head in frustration. “It just doesn’t matter, that’s all.”
“It does matter,” she whispered. “It matters because—” Emily stopped short. She shook her head. “You should just be more careful, that’s all.”
“More careful?”
Some words were like smoke; if exhaled carelessly, they could never be reclaimed. Emily knew such words were dangerous, but she did not care.
“Not to let people fall in love with you,” she said.
He said nothing, just stared at her face. The moment hung for a long time, longer than it should have. Longer than it would if Stanton was going to say something in return. She turned away, cheeks burning.
“I know you don’t want me. You made that clear when you kissed me … or stopped kissing me.” Emily’s jaw ached with humiliation. “Anyway, don’t stand there trying to figure out some credomancer’s dodge to make me feel better about it.”
“Of course I want you,” he growled, leaning closer to her. “I’ve wanted you ever since I saw you dancing naked under that damn oak tree, botching up that preposterous love spell.”
Emily jabbed an accusing finger at him. “So you did see me!”
“It was an appalling spectacle,” he said. “I enjoyed it tremendously.”
“So why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you do anything about it? Were you afraid I’d expect something from you? From the scion of the Stanton dynasty?” Her