She’d agreed to speak with him only because another girl who’d poked her head in the door convinced her to let him in. Baz had followed them both into this private room upstairs, mortified at the thought that Jae might have sent him to someone they had unresolved history with.
“I don’t think our guest is here to talk about your failed relationships, Alya.”
This came from the other girl, who was closer to Baz in age. She was short and plump, with green eyes, dark hair buzzed close to her head, and a smattering of freckles on her golden-beige skin. Where Alya was all poise and elegance, primly sitting at the head of the table with what looked like a martini in hand, this girl had her feet up on the chair beside her and picked at a cheese platter, dressed in an ensemble of dark slacks, lavender suspenders, and a buttoned-up blouse with a floral-print bow tie.
She winked at Baz. “I’m Vera, by the way,” she said in a lilting accent. “Vera Ingers.”
“You’ll have to excuse my niece’s lack of manners.” Alya swirled her martini around with an olive pick. On her hand glistened the sigil of House New Moon. “I don’t know what exactly they teach over at Trevelyan University, but apparently it’s not that.” A scoff. “And they have the nerve to stare down their noses at schools like Aldryn.”
Vera rolled her eyes, and suddenly her accent made sense, as did the lack of any house sigil on her hand. Trevelyan University was on the continent to the east of the great island of Elegy and was one of the most elite non-magic schools in the world.
Baz had often imagined what his life might have been like had he been born without magic. He always pictured himself walking the grand sandstone halls of Trevelyan University, free to study art, history, languages, his mind flourishing without the burdens and fears and limitations that came with being Eclipse-born. He envied Vera for this freedom to explore her interests outside of whatever drop of magic she’d been born with.
He looked between her and Alya. “You two are related?”
“On my mother’s side,” Vera said around a bite of cheese. “Dearest Aunt Alya and the rest of the Kazans claim we’re all related to Cornus Clover.”
Alya gave Vera a death stare. “Clover, yes. The reason we’re here, is he not? So tell us, Baz. What is it you want to know about him?”
“Jae told me you believe what Clover wrote was true, in a way? And I guess I’m just wondering… how, exactly, that is.” His eyes flicked to the gold-framed paintings on the wall, one of which depicted an all-too-familiar cove with towering cliffs and a cave mouth cut into its side, unveiled by the low tide. “And more specifically, if it has anything to do with the missing epilogue or Dovermere.”
“Funny how you Aldryn students suddenly seem so interested in all of this,” Vera drawled. “There was another Eclipse fella who came by not long ago with the exact same questions, and a girl before him.” She tilted her head, studying him. “She kind of looked like you, come to think of it. Romie, was it?”
Baz’s heart skipped a beat. “She was my sister.”
“Was?”
“She drowned at Dovermere last spring.”
Vera swore and fell back against her chair.
“I’m sorry,” Alya said. Her face softened to something almost motherly. “I heard about that but didn’t realize that was her. All those students… Such senseless loss.”
“It’s why I’m here. My sister, she… had some interesting ideas about Song of the Drowned Gods and Dovermere. And I’m wondering if it’s part of why she went there in the first place.”
Alya set her glass down on the table. “I don’t know how Dovermere might factor into this, but as for the rest, yes, we believe there’s truth to what Clover wrote in Song of the Drowned Gods. That there are other worlds and ways to travel between them. Or at least, there used to be.”
“Used to be?”
Vera toyed with a piece of cheese. “Anyone with a brain can tell Clover clearly wrote himself in as the scholar. A college student writing stories by the sea, just like Clover himself, who was a student at Aldryn? Obvious enough. Naturally, the next conclusion to draw is that, just like the scholar in his story, Clover himself found a portal to other worlds. Be it through a book or an actual door or something else entirely, that’s up for interpretation.”
“You believe he actually went to all those other worlds?” Baz said dubiously. “The Wychwood, the Wastes, the snowy mountains with the gate, the sea of ash… You think they’re all real?”
Vera shrugged. “Why not? You can’t tell me you’ve never wondered if it was all real when reading the book. That you never uttered those words to yourself… There is a world at the center of all things where drowned gods reign over a sea of ash.… wishing so hard that a portal on a page would magically appear.”
Goose bumps rose on Baz’s arms. Of course he’d thought it. He’d wished it were real with every fiber of his being, held his breath every time he picked up an old, odd-looking book in Aldryn’s libraries, wondering if it might be the same one the scholar had found, or a book Clover might have picked up himself and used as inspiration for his novel. But to actually believe in the existence of those fictional worlds when no rational thing pointed to the plausibility of it…
“So what then, Clover went to other worlds, came back here, and wrote down all his adventures in Song of the Drowned Gods?”
Alya tipped her martini glass his way. “Precisely. A thinly veiled atlas pointing to other worlds, hidden in a children’s book. Genius, really.”
Baz understood now why Jae had warned him about these people and their beliefs.
“This is where the epilogue comes into play,” Vera added, leaning in close with her elbows on the table. “From everything experts and scholars and fanatics have pieced together, we believe that elusive sixth part of the book tells us exactly how to travel between worlds. That it might in fact be the portal itself, the key to everything. A way to find the sea of ash at the center of it all.”
“Why would Clover take the epilogue out of his manuscript, then?” Baz asked.
Vera raised a brow. “Who says he’s the one who did it?”
“Clover’s manuscript was published posthumously,” Alya added. “His death coincides with the disappearance of the epilogue. It wouldn’t be a stretch to say he died at the hands of whoever ripped those pages from his manuscript. We believe the epilogue was hidden by those who wish to see the doors to other worlds forever closed. Those who fear travel between worlds might wake the evil that lies at the center of all things.”
Her gaze flicked to the back of Baz’s hand—to the sunflower and moon in eclipse inked on his skin.
“The Shadow of Ruin,” Baz murmured.
Alya nodded with a wry smile. “The monster in the sea of ash.”
Baz pulled back his hand, folded it in his lap. “Some say the real monster was always the drowned gods themselves.”
Alya seemed delighted by this. “I see you’re familiar with Jae’s thesis on the matter. That’s how I met them, you know. I’ve always admired their insight into the kind of person Clover might have been, a critic of the Tides and defender of the Shadow, a fervent ally of the Eclipse-born.” She chuckled. “That ruffled a lot of feathers among the purists of the literary world.”