“My father’s a Lightkeeper,” she said quietly. “He tends a lighthouse for a living. He doesn’t have enough magic to wear the Full Moon sigil, but that’s what he does. And he loves it. It’s where I grew up, in this tiny lighthouse in Harebell Cove.”
The thought of home made her wish she were there. “I always feared I might end up like him. That I wouldn’t pass the tests, wouldn’t get to wear my house sigil, wouldn’t get to study here at Aldryn.” Emory laughed sullenly at the admission. “I always felt unremarkable as a Healer, and now I have this impossible magic and I’m afraid I’ll mess it all up.”
Keiran reached for her hand, his thumb brushing her marked wrist. “You won’t.” He drew her attention to a large painting propped up against the wall. “This is what I wanted to show you.”
It was strangely beautiful in the refracted light of the mirrors. Dark, muted colors in loose brushstrokes depicted a young man lying in a pool of water and blood and sea-foam, his hands folded neatly on his chest. He was smiling, even as blood ran from a wound in his middle.
“What is it?” It was an odd thing for him to show her, Emory thought.
There was something like reverence on Keiran’s face as he beheld the painting. “It’s a mystery. There’s no signature, nothing known about the painting or its maker, nothing in the technique that might echo another artist’s work. I don’t know why I’m so drawn to it. It’s exquisite in a morbid sort of way. The darkness of it, the featurelessness of the man. The way he’s smiling even at the end. I suppose it reminds me there’s beauty even in death. That’s what Farran always believed.”
Emory thought of what Virgil had said about Reaper magic. She studied the painting again, trying to see it through another set of eyes.
“My parents were in Threnody for work when they died,” Keiran said softly, still fixated on the painting, like it was easier to speak if he didn’t look at her. “Collecting pieces for their gallery. It’s part of why I like this place so much. It reminds me of them.” He cleared his throat. “There was nothing left of them for us to bury. That’s how strong the Collapsing blast was. I remember sitting at their funeral hating the person who’d done this. I didn’t care that it was an accident. I needed someone to blame and make into a monster for taking my parents away, and I was glad to see him sent to the Institute to receive the Unhallowed Seal.”
An impossible realization dawned on her. Blood pounding in her ears, Emory asked, “Who was it, the Eclipse-born who killed your parents?”
He met her gaze with a sad, knowing smile. The sorrow on his face broke her.
“Say it. Please.”
His throat bobbed. “Theodore Brysden.”
Baz and Romie’s father.
Emory shook her head, refusing to believe it. But it made sense—the timeline of it all, the way Baz had locked up at the sight of Keiran with her in the quad. The way Lizaveta had seemed to despise her from the start, even before she knew she was Eclipse-born, likely because she was Romie’s friend, and Romie was a Brysden as much as Baz.
“Tides, Keiran. I’m so sorry. Did Romie know?”
“She did. I never held it against her,” he added quickly, “nor her brother. It was an accident, after all. And we are not our parents.”
Emory couldn’t fathom what it must be like, to lose one’s parents like that. To be torn between blame and acceptance, rage and forgiveness, at the thought of the person who’d taken their lives. It made even less sense to her that he’d accepted her—fought for her—with such eagerness. An Eclipse-born he was putting all his trust in after living through such horror.
But maybe, she realized, he wished to bring his parents back from the dead too.
Your magic is the very answer I’ve been seeking.
Keiran frowned at the painting. “I couldn’t stay in Trevel after their deaths. Too many painful memories. Dean Fulton was a good friend of my parents. She offered to take me in, so I continued my prep school education right here at Aldryn under her tutelage. When I first got here, I was so angry. I couldn’t understand why Eclipse students were allowed within these sacred halls, why institutions like Aldryn would put everyone else at risk like that. Then my first year staying with Fulton, a Reaper undergrad killed another student. It was a gruesome accident. A slip of magic, the heat of the moment. A mistake. But it made me realize that a Reaper could just as likely cause death and destruction as any Eclipse student might. That any one of us could slip up at a moment’s notice. Maybe not in the same way as those who Collapse, but that doesn’t mean the rest of us are exempt. Magical accidents can happen to anyone.”
He turned to her once more. “You asked me why I’m not afraid of you.” His fingers brushed her brow, tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “The truth is, I am. But only because I see your potential. Your power. Only in the way all of us both fear and are enthralled by death, this inevitable, unconquerable force we’ll all bow to in the end.”
Such a force might have scared Emory, once. But standing here before him, as enthralled by him as he claimed to be by her magic—by her—she found she did not fear it in the slightest.
* * *
It was on her way to the greenhouse that evening that Emory finally caught sight of Baz. He looked even less put-together than he usually did, hair disheveled and glasses skewed and shirt only half tucked in his pants. He didn’t notice her even as she sidled up next to him, his eyes trained on the book in his hands.
“Hey.”
His head snapped up. “Oh.” He slipped his book under an arm. “Hey.”
“I didn’t see you in the library this morning.” She gave him a demure smile, hoping whatever this thing was between them wasn’t yet broken.
Baz averted his gaze, his face shuttered. “Yeah. Sorry. Long night.”
His shortness made her falter. There was something different about him. A heavier weariness to him than usual. She wanted so badly to tell him everything would be fine. That she would bring Romie back and they would both see her again, hear her laugh. But she couldn’t, not when she’d just sworn an oath to the Selenic Order. It felt dangerous to involve Baz in something she herself did not yet fully understand, especially given his and Keiran’s history.
If she managed to do this—wake the Tides, have them bring Romie back to life—Baz would understand and forgive her lies. He had to.
“I was heading to the greenhouse,” she said, “but if your offer to train in Obscura Hall still stands…”
Baz watched her over the rim of his glasses, a tightness in his jaw, as if waiting for her to say something else. Finally, he let out a long sigh. “I can’t right now.”
It felt like a punch to the gut. “Oh.”
“Sorry. I’m late meeting Professor Selandyn.”
“Of course.”
If Baz heard the disappointment in her voice, he didn’t let it show, only left with that distracted look in his eyes. Emory tried not to let his dismissal sting too deeply. She couldn’t expect him to always be at her beck and call. She’d been the one using his feelings for her to get what she wanted, and maybe he’d finally come to realize it.