So why did it bother her so much?
And how in the Deep was she supposed to practice on her own?
Power like yours was meant for greatness, Keiran had told her.
Maybe she didn’t need Baz at all. If she’d performed magic without incident last night in front of the entire Order, she could do so again in the privacy of the greenhouse.
But someone was already there. Nisha could have been Anima herself, standing in the middle of all these dead plants, head tilted up to the sky as if to implore the moon. She wore a burgundy pinafore dress over a cream turtleneck, her black hair unbound and lips unadorned.
Her eyes, Emory saw as they met hers, glistened with tears.
“Are you all right?”
Nisha wiped furiously at her cheeks. “Sorry. Yes. I was just on my way back to Crescens Hall when I finally mustered up the courage to come in here.” She looked around the space with melancholy. “I miss Romie. It feels strange being back here without her, doesn’t it?”
Bitter defensiveness rose in Emory’s throat. What did she know about missing her? She hadn’t known Romie like Emory had—her grief couldn’t compare.
“You know she spoke of you all the time?” Nisha said with a tentative smile. “She always said she wished she were more like you.”
“Me?” Emory sputtered, taken aback. She had always wanted to be more like Romie, so self-assured in her skin and in her dreams, so vibrant and easy to speak with.
“She said she wished she had your drive and focus.” Affection warmed Nisha’s voice. “You know how scattered she could be.”
It was true; Romie wanted everything so much, but she always got distracted by the next big idea, the shinier dream. Nothing ever truly satisfied her. She’d leave things behind without a look backward if she no longer felt the desire to pursue them, her goals always shifting. It made for very little follow-through on her part.
Emory was the opposite. When she set her mind to something, she didn’t waver.
“She once told me she felt like she didn’t entirely know herself, because she was always changing, just like her interests and dreams,” Nisha continued. “But she could always count on you to remain the same. She saw you as this force to be reckoned with, someone who stayed true to herself and her friends no matter what. She loved you for it.”
Tears prickled at Emory’s eyes. Could Romie not have told her any of this herself last year, instead of pulling away from her in favor of Nisha? Anger and jealousy sharpened to something ugly inside her.
“She didn’t say much about you,” Emory said, perhaps a bit too viciously. To temper her words, she added, “Then again, she didn’t say much to me at all in the end.”
“That makes two of us.”
“I thought the two of you were close.”
“She became distant with me too. It wasn’t just about the Order. There was something else preoccupying her that she wouldn’t share with me.” Nisha swallowed with difficulty, tucking her hair behind her ears as she eyed Emory. “Did she ever tell you about us?”
“The Order? Of course not.”
“Not the Order. Me and her.”
Emory frowned incomprehensibly. And then it dawned on her.
“Oh.”
Oh.
Nisha smiled sadly. “I’ll take that as a no. But yeah. We were seeing each other.”
All the pieces fell into place so quickly that Emory wanted to smack herself. Romie had always liked both boys and girls, that much Emory knew. But she’d never suspected Nisha might be more than a friend, so clouded by her own jealousy of their friendship that she couldn’t see the truth behind it.
Nisha ran a finger along a dead leaf. “This is where we’d sneak off to. The Order sort of frowns on present cohort members dating initiates—favoritism and all. And then, of course, I knew a bit about Keiran’s and Lizaveta’s history with Romie’s father.… But I didn’t care. I couldn’t keep away from her. She was so… magnetic. So full of life. It’s a wonder she wasn’t a Glamour.”
Nisha’s open vulnerability caught Emory off guard. “I know what you mean.”
“Anyway. She kept talking about how she wished she could wield other magics, and here I was sitting on the secret of synthetics. So I gave her a push in the right direction, told her if she wanted in, she’d have to convince Keiran, since the Order already had their two Waning Moon candidates in mind. She barged into his dreams, and that was the end of it. We picked her over the other Dreamer candidate.”
Nisha’s smile twisted into a frown. “Do you hate me? For introducing her to the Order?”
Emory pondered the question. She had hated Nisha for taking her friend away from her—but she wasn’t any better herself. They both dealt with guilt, she realized, wondering what they might have done differently to save Romie from her fate.
At last, she said, “I think Romie would have found a way to do what Romie wanted, as she always did.”
“She did have a mind of her own, didn’t she?”
A smile, like they were sharing a secret. Because that was a little bit how it felt to be close to Romie—like being let in on a secret, holding the key to the mystery she was to everyone else.
“Well. I’ll leave you to it, then.”
Nisha made to leave, but Emory stopped her with a whispered “Wait.” She fiddled with a loose thread on her sleeve. “Do you think… Do you really believe we can bring her back?”
A fierceness shone in Nisha’s eyes. “I have to believe it. I love her too much to accept a world without her in it.”
They looked at each other from across the wilted space, understanding blooming between them.
“I’m scared I’ll fail,” Emory admitted quietly.
A twinkle of mischief lit Nisha’s face. “You know what Romie always said of failure.”
“Fear of failure’s the bitch that holds you back from success?”
They both laughed, all hostility between them now dissipated. Nisha grew serious again, voice soft as she said, “You’re not alone in this, Emory.” She trailed a hand over a dead plant, cocking a brow at her. “Do you want help practicing?”
18 BAZ
THE MORNING OF THE FALL equinox, Baz found himself in the Vault again.
Professor Selandyn had come through for him, pulling strings with Dean Fulton to get him permission for Dark Tides: Rare Tidal Movements through the Ages—though not without some convincing on Baz’s part. The Eclipse professor had narrowed her eyes at him upon hearing the title, and when Baz mentioned Romie’s interest in it, hoping that would sway her, she’d gone very quiet.
“Does this have anything to do with you meeting those crackpots that call themselves the Veiled Atlas?” At his befuddled expression, she added, “Jae filled me in. I hope you didn’t take anything those fanatics said at face value.”
“I thought you of all people might be open to their ideas.”
Selandyn had huffed a laugh. “My dear boy, surely you’ve worked with me long enough to know there’s a difference between provable theories and silly fantasies. The Veiled Atlas have taken this business with the epilogue entirely too far. People lose all sense when it comes to tracking that thing down. It’s become a dangerous game, and anyone who plays it is a damn fool.”