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.
“I think my presence at Dovermere is what called Travers and Lia back. Both times, I was at the beach, in the water.” Emory traced her Selenic Mark. “I tried reaching Romie through the mark last night. What if I somehow called Lia back instead? If our ritual made it possible for her to hear me?”
“That wouldn’t explain Travers, though,” Keiran argued. “There was no ritual that time.”
Emory groaned, grabbing her head between her hands. “Then maybe it’s like Baz thinks, and there’s this impossible dream song calling us to other worlds like in Song of the Drowned Gods.” She laughed a little hysterically. “I don’t know what to think anymore.”
Keiran sat beside her, his warm hand caressing the back of her neck. She melted against his touch.
“If we’re to assume Romie and Jordyn are still alive,” he surmised, “maybe Brysden is right about them being stuck. Not in another world, but some kind of in-between. A purgatory between here and the Deep. Not quite living, not quite dead.”
At the perplexed look Emory shot him, he added, “I’ve done my own fair share of research on Dovermere and these supposed doors to the Deep, read everything I can in preparation for waking the Tides. We know for a fact that Dovermere holds power beyond our understanding. I’m sure you felt it when you were there, the dark pull of the Hourglass. Like a beast you know you shouldn’t approach but want to touch regardless.”
In her mind she heard an echo of her whispered name as the caves filled with water.
“If Dovermere’s both the place the Tides were birthed in and vanished to,” Keiran continued, “it would make sense for it to be a gateway to the Deep itself. And maybe it opened last spring because, for the first time in the Order’s history, the circle around the Hourglass was complete. With magic not just of the four lunar houses, but of House Eclipse, too.”
Cold licked up Emory’s spine. If her mere presence had opened this door to the Deep, then she had sent the four of them to purgatory.
She might as well have sentenced them to death.
As if reading her mind, Keiran ventured another guess. “What if by escaping death that night, you formed a link to those Dovermere did claim? Maybe that’s how Romie could contact you in your dream, why Travers and Lia both came back when you were near Dovermere. Death left its mark on you all.”