Chapter 26 Emory
EMORY WAS CHOKING ON LUNAR flowers.
Black narcissus and indigo hollyhocks and white orchids and purple poppies grew between her lungs, sprouted up her throat, their roots sinking deep into her heart, draining all the blood from her veins and marrow from her bones. Before her stood her ghosts, whispering in her ear:
Tidethief.
Your fault.
Everything you touch crumbles to dust.
A hand touched her arm. With a gasp, she jerked awake to find Virgil leaning over her, face shadowed in concern. “Bad dream?”
Brushing the base of her throat, Emory blinked around her in confusion. The two of them were the only ones awake; it was barely dawn, and freezing with the absence of the sun.
“Must have been,” Emory muttered. The flowers weren’t real. Her ghosts weren’t here. For now, at least. Peering at Virgil, she said, “I see ghosts whenever I use my magic. In sleep and in waking.”
“Ghosts?” Virgil looked around as if he could make them out in the dark. “Anyone I know?”
Emory shuddered. It felt like both Keiran and Lizaveta were here, hovering unseen between them.
Virgil seemed to feel it too. He sat down next to her. “You know, I did try to stop the Reanimator from bringing Keiran back. But even she had no choice. We were all under Artem’s compulsion.”
“Why did Artem want to do such a thing to begin with?”
“Grief made him irrational. He tried it with Lizaveta first. He thought the Reanimator might have been able to bring her back properly with her boosted-up Collapsed magic, but obviously it failed.” Virgil threw a pebble in the dead embers of their spent fire.
“Now Lizaveta is gone for good, and Keiran’s possessed by whatever the Deep that was. ”
Unshed tears gleamed in Virgil’s eyes, making Emory’s heart twist. It felt surreal to have him and the others here.
The last time she saw him, he was lying at the foot of the Hourglass, knocked unconscious by Keiran and Lizaveta’s combined power.
And now he was here, sitting beside her in this strange world, dealing with the same profound grief and betrayal she was still trying to untangle herself.
“I’m sorry about Lizaveta,” she murmured, remembering how close the two of them were. “She was… nice.”
Virgil snorted. “Don’t lie. She was a total bitch to you.” He patted her hand. “But I do appreciate the sentiment. I hope her soul can find peace. Keiran’s can burn, for all I care.”
His words sounded halfhearted, as if he couldn’t quite forget that Keiran had been his friend. The same way Emory couldn’t forget what he’d been to her before the end.
The question left her lips before she could think twice: “Were you in love with her?”
“Liza?” Virgil considered it. “You know, it’s funny.
I never hid my interest in her, and she never exactly discouraged it, either.
We’d kiss sometimes at parties whenever she felt ignored by Keiran or was trying to get his attention.
I knew I was an option she kept in her back pocket.
But I would have taken any crumb she gave me and called it affection, just on the off chance that she might one day fancy me back.
Even knowing what she did, what she was willing to do to her friends…
” He caught Emory’s eye, a sad smile touching his lips.
“Those feelings don’t just go away overnight, do they? ”
Emory knew exactly what he meant. She’d thought she was in love too. With someone who claimed to care for her, only to use her.
The same way you used Baz, a voice in her head said.
With Baz’s face in mind, she cleared her throat and asked, “So it’s true what you said, about the Collapsing curse not being real?”
A nod. “I’m telling you, Em, they’re completely fine—minus a few hiccups with Kai’s magic, but he’s still new at the limitless-power aspect of it all. But Baz… he’s formidable.”
Emory had no trouble believing it. Because, despite all of Baz’s lessons about how dangerous it was to Collapse, the effortless control he had over his magic couldn’t be overlooked.
Emory had always marveled at it, the ease with which he wielded such a vast, unthinkable power.
The way he’d stopped her from Collapsing, something that should have been inevitable, irreversible.
And Baz had turned back time to stop it without even coming close to Collapsing himself.
She should have known. The irony of it was almost laughable. How Baz had kept himself from using magic in fear of Collapsing, when all this time the thing he feared had already happened, leaving him to sit on this untapped well of depthless power.
“How is he, really?” she asked, the ache in her heart almost too much to bear as she thought of how devastated Baz must have been when he’d found out the truth.
Because if Baz had been the one to Collapse in his father’s printing press, then that meant he, not his father, had killed Keiran’s parents in the blast.
“Like I said, he’s become a total badass. Between coming to terms with his Collapsing, presenting his case against the Selenic Order and the Regulators for harnessing silver blood, harboring fugitives—it’s a lot, but it builds character, you know?”
The thought of Baz doing anything illegal drew a smile from her. “I hope he’ll be okay, wherever that portal brought him.” She was glad to know that Kai was at Baz’s side, remembering how fiercely protective of Baz the Nightmare Weaver had been when she met him at the Institute.
“This is all so messed up,” Virgil breathed. “If only we had a bottle of alcohol…”
Emory shot him a look. “The sun isn’t even up yet.”
“Precisely. It’s still partying hours.”
Virgil gave her his signature smile. Emory could almost imagine they were back on Dovermere Cove, sitting around the bonfire where they’d first met. Except Keiran and Lizaveta were gone, and everything was irrevocably changed.
Movement caught her eye as Aspen sat up, looking around in a daze.
“How are you feeling?” Emory asked, handing Aspen a gourd of water that they’d filled at the spring. The witch’s face was haggard, but her wound at least seemed entirely healed. She nearly emptied the gourd in one go.
“Surprisingly well, considering my brush with death. I think I actually did die for a second.” Aspen looked at Emory intently. “You brought me back. How?”
“Healing magic, remember?” Emory didn’t mention how it had taken much more than that.
Aspen hugged herself as she looked toward the horizon, where a dim sun was making its way up. “It feels like I’ve been here before,” she said. “I’ve seen this landscape through Tol’s eyes. Which means he’s real.”
“Could you find him through scrying?” Emory asked with sudden inspiration. “Maybe he could help us find this world’s key.”
“The warrior from your story,” Aspen whispered, her eyes bright with an emotion Emory couldn’t place. Her jaw set in determination. “Let me try.”
They watched as she sat cross-legged on the red-hued earth, face tilted up to the sun, eyes going milky white as she sank into her scrying. Emory wondered what her tether might be—if she needed one at all, given the uniqueness of her ability—before she noticed Aspen’s hands fisted in the dirt.
By now everyone had awoken and was watching Aspen quietly. Emory tried to catch Romie’s eye, but her friend was either very focused on the scrying or pointedly avoiding her.
They all jumped when Aspen gasped out of her trance and scurried to her feet, nearly backing into the remnants of their fire.
“What happened? What did you see?”
“I’m not sure. Some strange beast’s mind, I believe…” Aspen frowned. “The astral plane feels so different here. I couldn’t find my way. This will be more difficult than I thought.”
“So how are we going to find this key, then?” Virgil asked.
“Not sure about the key, but this should lead us to the next door.” Vera produced the compass. “Just like it did in the Wychwood.”
“Can’t exactly open the door without a key.”
“Thank you, Virgil, I know how doors work,” Vera quipped. “Where do you suggest we go? The desert stretches on in every direction with no end in sight, and we’re all hungry and thirsty and tired. We can at the very least start walking in the direction of the door and hope for the best.”
Emory found herself agreeing with Vera, hiding a smile as Virgil grumbled something under his breath.
They ventured out shortly after, following the direction of the compass.
Emory couldn’t help but notice Romie and Nisha walking closely together, all secret smiles and brushing hands.
A pang of jealousy hit her, fueled by the way Romie had been ignoring her since they’d gotten to the Wastes.
It was like they were back in their first year at Aldryn, with Emory watching her best friend slip through her fingers.
Except maybe this time Romie was justified. After what happened on the ley line…
No. Emory wouldn’t let herself think of that. She picked up the pace to walk beside Vera, who led the pack and was studying the compass like her life depended on it.
“How did you know Adriana was my mother?” Emory blurted out. She herself hadn’t even known her mother’s true name until Keiran told her, right before he died.
Adriana Kazan.
Luce Meraude.
Mother, sailor, liar.
“Baz told me,” Vera stated, eyes darting away from Emory’s.
“Baz knew my mother as Luce Meraude, not Adriana Kazan.”
A beat. Then: “Adriana was my aunt.” Vera chanced a look at Emory. “That makes us cousins, I suppose.”
“Oh.”
Emory let that knowledge sink between them.
Cousins. She had never known family outside of her father, who was an only child, and his parents, who had died when she was young.
Her mother had been a mystery, but now here was something concrete, a living piece of her family tree, someone who shared her blood.