Page 50 of Hawk & Sparrow

Vesper was still reading the last line of the letter when its edges began to smolder. She stood and yelped, flinging it away from her quickly. There was a pop like a firecracker, and then the entire thing was gone, only wispy gray remnants of smoke remaining to prove it’d been there at all.

SIXTEEN

FRIDAY, 11TH OF NOVEMBER—10:32 A.M.

Sunlight filtered through the golden leaves of a nearby aspen tree as Vesper stood outside the Globe’s office the following morning.

She smoothed a hand over her dress’s front, rocked on her heels, and tried to do anything she could think of to avoid looking down the street. In a matter of seconds, she lost the battle and checked anyway. Still empty. She bit her lip, mildly annoyed.

Where is he?

Maximilian had said in his note that he’d pick her up at half past. As of now, he was two minutes late. Vesper drummed her fingers against her side, anxious. Had the sorcerer forgotten about their engagement entirely, or was he making her wait like this was just another game? She had a worse thought: What if he’d just decided not to come at all?

A group of laundresses carrying buckets and washboards passed her on the street. Vesper offered a small smile as they passed, but none of the women returned it, and more than one of them glowered with open hostility. Vesper swallowed, uncomfortable.

You’re a part of Maximilian’s world now, she reminded herself. They don’t see you as one of them anymore.

She was still staring after the women when the familiar clopping of horses’ hooves redirected her gaze. A mixture of relief and exasperation filled her as Maximilian’s familiar coach came charging down the street and stopped before her. Vesper curtsied to the footman as he dismounted from the platform and bowed.

“Miss Evans.” He bowed. “Good morning.”

“Good morning, Bexley.”

He opened the coach’s door, and Vesper immediately noted a familiar pair of long legs. She took a deep breath before accepting the footman’s hand and ducking inside. Immediately she was enveloped in a sugary smell. She settled into the coach and met Maximilian’s gaze. The sorcerer was eyeing her with unmistakable satisfaction.

“Red really suits you, Evans.” He nodded toward her dress. “I suspected it might.”

Vesper’s cheeks warmed. “You’re late, Mr. Kite.”

“Forgive me.” Maximilian’s expression turned solemn. “We had a bit of a crisis this morning.”

Vesper didn’t want to ask, but curiosity got the best of her. “What sort of crisis?”

“Guillermo was out of puff pastries,” he said with the same seriousness. “And as a result, I almost went without breakfast.”

Vesper massaged the bridge of her nose. “Mr. Kite, you may not be aware of this, but for most people, missing breakfast does not constitute a crisis.”

Maximilian suddenly smiled. “I anticipated your displeasure.” There was a new hint of amusement in his voice now. “Which is why, to make up for my tardiness, I’ve brought you these.” He lifted his coat, and produced a large bouquet of red roses and offered it. Vesper blinked.

“This … is a little extravagant for being two minutes late.”

“Yes, well…” Maximilian suddenly looked uncharacteristically nervous. “They’re also meant to be a peace offering.”

“A peace offering?”

“To make up for what happened at Guillermo’s the other day,” he murmured. “I was rude, and I’m sorry.”

Vesper sat back, stunned. Aside from the incident at the polo match, this was the most sincere she’d ever heard Maximilian. The apology was genuine. She accepted the roses and stared at them, perplexed.

“You don’t like them.” There was apprehension in Maximilian’s voice. “I guessed at roses, but if you like a different flower—”

“It’s not that.” Vesper looked down at the roses again. “It’s just … I’ve never been one for flowers. They’re pretty, but fleeting. They don’t last.”

Maximilian arched a brow. “You’re a tough customer, Evans. What’s a better gift?”

“Steel-tipped pens.”

“Pens?”