My dearest Emory,
I hope the issue with your magic’s been resolved—maybe it was only nerves?
I’m not sure how Luce could have lied. I’ve been trying to think of anything strange she might have said or done, but she was a mystery wrapped in charm, wit, and quick smiles—everything about her was peculiar, in the best of ways, of course, but nothing out of sorts comes to mind.
I did find something of hers she must have left when she brought you to me, or maybe before that, I’m not sure. It seemed useless at the time—I probably stashed it in a drawer and forgot all about it. I think it’s broken, but it’s yours to do with what you please.
I hope you’re happier than when I saw you last. You know I’m just a train ride away.
Dad
Her heart lurched at the last line. After Dovermere, the summer months she’d spent at home had been a mess for both of them. She’d been inconsolable with grief, a ship unmoored, and he’d been so patient with her, a steady presence to count on. And as much as she knew it worried him to see her leave in the midst of all that, she knew he was relieved, too. He hadn’t known what to do with her, and it had pained her terribly to see him fret so much.
She reached for the heavy object at the bottom of the envelope and frowned at it. It was a pocket watch, or a compass. Both, somehow. An intricate design full of needles and cogs and wheels she could see no apparent use for, frozen there behind the scratched glass. She turned it over, and on the brassy gold were initials so weathered she could barely make them out: VA.
The name of a ship, perhaps. Or a plundered treasure.
Emory threw it into a drawer. The only thing of her mother’s she owned, and it was utterly useless.
She was a mystery wrapped in charm, wit, and quick smiles, her father had written. More like a mystery veiled in lies, deceit, and abandonment.
Her gaze caught on the vials of salt water and the bloodletting bowl on her desk. She rubbed at her spiral mark, wondering if she should contact Keiran and tell him everything that had happened, because if anyone could make sense of it, she thought, it was him.
But then she’d have to admit to Baz’s involvement, tell Keiran the truth about what Baz knew, how he’d been helping her all this time. She’d lied to Keiran when all he’d done up until now was trust her implicitly. He’d put all his faith in her, and now Lia was dead, probably because of her.
She couldn’t tell him the truth now, after everything that had happened.
Her selenography textbook sat beneath the bloodletting bowl. With a start, she realized today was her makeup exam—which she was going to be late for if she didn’t hurry.
Emory headed to class, trying to recall everything she’d been studying. Her mind went blank as she reached the classroom and saw everyone waiting outside whispering behind their morning newspapers. There was a thrum of tension in the air, subdued excitement. She caught a glimpse of the headline visible on the front page, and it was like déjà vu:
BODY OF ANOTHER DROWNING VICTIM FOUND AT DOVERMERE.
Lia.
She grabbed a discarded paper and flipped to the article in question, eyes roving over the text in search of anything incriminating. But it was as she and Baz expected: some fisherman had found the body at dawn, and since no one saw the gruesome way Lia died, it was simply assumed her body had washed in with the tide. It said an inquiry was to be made, autopsy and all, but there was no mention here of her charred mouth or missing tongue.
No doubt keeping those gruesome details quiet.
She spotted Penelope with a newspaper in hand, blinking back tears.
Penelope looked at her as if in a daze. “I wonder if her parents know. I should give them a call, right?”
“Nel, I’m so sorry…” Emory hadn’t thought of it until now, how Lia’s body being found would affect her friend. The devastation on Penelope’s face was heart-wrenching. She wished she had some comfort to offer her. At least, she told herself, Penelope hadn’t seen it. At least now, Lia’s body could be lain to rest next to her twin sister, Dania.
“What can I do to help?”
“Nothing.” Penelope tried for a smile. “I’m fine, really. I just… I need to go. Will you tell Professor Cezerna?”
“Of course. I’m here if you need me.”
Guilt knifed through Emory’s heart. This was all her fault, in the end.
* * *
It was no small miracle that she passed her selenography exam, and that she managed to focus long enough to finish at all. She left the class wondering if Professor Cezerna might have been more lenient at grading her than he normally would, given the situation.
One less thing to worry about, at least.
She was waiting in line at the coffee cart when Virgil sidled up to her. “Thanks for saving me a spot,” he greeted her lightly. “I’m in desperate need of caffeine this morning.” He winked at her, ignoring the nasty looks he got for cutting in line, and asked, “Did you see the newspaper?”
“I did,” Emory said, reminding herself that Virgil didn’t know what really happened.
“Bit odd she washed ashore on the same night we did the ritual,” Virgil mused.
She hadn’t considered that. “Do you think it might have had something to do with it?”
“Maybe it was the Tides’ way of letting us know they heard us.” He gave a nonchalant shrug. “At least whatever fucked-up thing happened to Travers didn’t happen to her, right?”
Emory met his gaze, and she wondered if he saw beneath her mask—if he could somehow sense Lia’s death on her.
This disquieting thought followed her all day. With the news of Lia’s body, there were bound to be questions from the rest of the Selenics. From Keiran, too. She couldn’t keep hiding the truth.
She called on Keiran through the mark that very evening. There was a brief silence, and then his voice sounded in her ear, here and not but wholly his.
“Ainsleif?”
“We need to talk. It’s about Lia.”
A pause. “Where are you?”
Minutes later, Keiran was on her doorstep, and for a second she was just a normal girl standing in front of the boy she kissed last night and wanted so very much to kiss again. If things weren’t so Tides-damned screwed up, she might have done just that. As it was, Emory couldn’t even look at him, didn’t want him to see her pathetic tears, the wobble of her lip. She turned to the window. Behind her, the door closed with a soft thud. Keiran rested a warm hand on her arm and gently turned her to face him. His hazel eyes searched hers.
“Whatever it is, you can tell me.”
Emory drew a breath. “I was there. It’s my fault she’s dead.”
She told him everything—how Baz had been helping her try to hone her magic, how he’d gone down to the beach with her last night after she’d seen Romie in her dreams. She shared Baz’s theories on doors and Dovermere and that Tides-damned book of his, and doing so felt like betrayal on her part. But she owed Keiran the truth. He’d fought for her, kept her secret, trusted her despite his history with the Eclipse-born, and this changed everything they were working toward.
By the end, she sat on her bed, feeling utterly depleted. Keiran watched her quietly by the window.