I glanced down at the box. It was pretty—layers of gloss over black, with a pattern of thin, waved lines in gold beneath—but not that big. Maybe four inches by six. “It doesn’t look like it would hold a lot.”

Nix laughed, the sound as bright and happy as silver bells. “Magic doesn’t have mass. Not in the way you’d define it. It will fill and infuse the box many times over before you need another container.”

She put the box on the floor, gestured to it. “Sit comfortably.”

If my dad could see me now, I thought, and lowered myself to the floor.

“She didn’t mean on the box,” Liam said with a grin.

“Yeah, thanks. I figured that out.” I sat a few inches from the box, crossed my legs.

Nix took a seat on the floor on the other side of the box. She sat as beautifully and effortlessly as a dancer, folding her legs beneath her, delicate hands in her lap.

Liam, who’d become silent as he watched us, moved closer, leaned against the edge of a console table.

“Tell me how you move things,” she said.

“Accidentally?” I said, and explained the star and the owl. “If I’m doing it on purpose, I just imagine the air is full of magic, and I try to gather it together. Then I pull. But not very well. Are we going to work on that? My aim is not good.”

“It really isn’t.”

I glanced up at Liam, prepared to give him a dour look. But he was grinning, and it was a pretty good smile.

“No,” Nix said, drawing my gaze to her again. “That is for you to practice. I am here to keep you alive.” She gestured to the box. “Imagine, as you gather up magic, that you’re taking the extra magic inside of yourself and putting it in the box.”

“How will I know if I did it?”

Liam lifted a hand. “You won’t become a wraith.”

I was clearly encouraging him by snarking back. So this time, I ignored him.

“Liam is right, in his fashion,” Nix said. “As you become more sensitive, pardon the expression, you will learn to gauge the level of your magic and adjust it as necessary. Now,” she added, nodding toward the box, “you try.”

I leaned over a little, focused my attention on the box, blew out a breath. I was about to perform a magical act in front of an audience.

I was nearly to the point of feeling out the magic in the air when my brain started working.

I bolted upright. “Wait. Wait. I can’t just pour magic into a box in here. We’re, like, forty feet away from a Containment monitor.”

“You think I did not consider that?” Nix sounded entirely unimpressed with me. “I would not have dropped my human shadow if the building was not insulated.”

It hadn’t even occurred to me that dropping her guise actually expended magic. It clearly had occurred to Nix, given the indignation in her voice. “The—wait. What? What do you mean, it’s insulated?”

Frowning, Liam rose, moved through the labyrinth of furniture to the window. He pushed it open, climbed onto the balcony outside. I waited, nerves firing and body prepared to run again, if he found the light outside had changed.

After a moment, he climbed in again, closed and locked the window. I waited impatiently for the verdict.

“The monitor hasn’t been triggered.”

I blew out a breath through pursed lips, tried to slow my racing heart. And I thought of the falling star, of the lifted gear, of the fact that neither of those little bouts of magic had signaled the monitors outside. It wasn’t because there hadn’t been much magic, or I’d gotten really lucky. It was because they couldn’t have. Because someone had fixed it so magic couldn’t be detected here.