Page 49 of The Trick of It

“That isn’t the point,” she said, licking a flake of pastry off her thumb. “Mind-readers, faith healers, mediums. They’re all performing tricks, but they claim to be something beyond merely human. The only time we ever did that was with the Changeling. That’s what he wants to see and we both know it.”

“It’s just a disappearing act,” Rhys reasoned. “It’s hardly unique.”

“Merlin disagrees,” Seph replied. “And he is the one who is dying.”

He nodded, reaching across the table for a spoon of the cobbler, which sat between them to be shared. He kept his eyes on the glossy berries in his spoon, examining them as he spoke. “I remember it,” he said. “Like I said. We just need to gather our props. And I don’t think we can get away with just doing one trick. We should at least bring a few.”

“I still have the ropes,” she reminded him. “Though I’m taller and heavier than I was at fifteen. The dastardly captive act might need to be adjusted to save you the effort of subduing me for the performance.”

He paused, swallowing the cobbler as his eyes brushed over her. “I can manage.”

She gave him a little smirk. “You think so? I’ve been watching your sisters best you for decades. You’re not a fighter, Rhys.”

“No?” He leaned forward again, scooping up another bite of cobbler and then melted back in his chair as he chewed and swallowed. “What am I, then?”

She blinked a few times, shrugging. “A performer.”

“Before I ever learned to perform,” he said softly. “Before I even considered it. Before I could read or write or look a man in the eye, I learned to lie. And to thieve.”

“Mm, your tawdry past as a pickpocket urchin,” she said, still a little skeptical it was ever true. “Are you implying you’re still a thief and a liar?”

“No,” he said. “I am outright stating it. You know I’m lying when I’m doing it for show. The real lies aren’t detected because when I tell them, I’m not just lying to you. I’m lying to myself as well. If I convince myself, I convince everyone else. That is how a good liar operates.”

She shook her head, confused. “What does that have to do with your sisters knocking you flat?”

“Excellent question,” he answered. “I think you know the answer.”

She narrowed her gaze, turning this over in her head. “Fine,” she said, standing. “Prove it.”

He almost smiled. “What?”

“Prove it,” she said again, turning and grabbing a handful of fool’s gold from the new display of stones. “In the act, you capture me and take my only weapon. We’ll call it this gold. Magic gold, hm? That protects me. It is the only reason you are able to tie me up, but you miss a speck and so I escape.”

“I remember,” he said, draping an arm over the back of his chair as she moved across the floor. “Are you going to go get the ropes?”

“No need,” she said. “I just want to see this secretive lying thief in motion.”

He flashed his teeth at her. “Are you certain?”

“Always,” she answered, lifting her chin.

He did smile then, a slow, curling thing that spread over his face, sparking a glint in the green of his eyes. He pushed himself to stand at a leisurely pace, shrugging off his jacket and draping it over the back of the chair. He watched her pacing, shaking out his cuffs and rolling them up to his elbows, those eyes tracking her every movement.

“Shall I handicap?” he offered. “Shoes off? Blindfolded?”

“Don’t be an ass,” she replied, which only seemed to delight him more. “Do I need to turn my back?”

“Seph,” he told her, craning his neck side to side. “If I want to turn your back, I’ll do it myself.”

“Oh, indeed?”

He feinted at her, a quick, little lunge that only served to startle her and make him laugh, his hands running up over his hair and down the back of his neck as he observed her, following her pacing in opposing arcs across the floor.

“Imp,” she said, circling him, bracing.

“Witch,” he replied. “Shall I tell you which lies you’ve believed? Which ones have fooled you just as well as any of my marks?”

“None whatsoever,” she returned, curling her lip.