Aspen hugged herself as she looked toward the horizon, wherea dim sun was making its way up. “It feels like I’ve been here before,” she said. “I’ve seen this landscape through Tol’s eyes. Which means he’sreal.”
“Could you find him through scrying?” Emory asked with sudden inspiration. “Maybe he could help us find this world’s key.”
“The warrior from your story,” Aspen whispered, her eyes bright with an emotion Emory couldn’t place. Her jaw set in determination. “Let me try.”
They watched as she sat cross-legged on the red-hued earth, face tilted up to the sun, eyes going milky white as she sank into her scrying. Emory wondered what her tether might be—if she needed one at all, given the uniqueness of her ability—before she noticed Aspen’s hands fisted in the dirt.
By now everyone had awoken and was watching Aspen quietly. Emory tried to catch Romie’s eye, but her friend was either very focused on the scrying or pointedly avoiding her.
They all jumped when Aspen gasped out of her trance and scurried to her feet, nearly backing into the remnants of their fire.
“What happened? What did you see?”
“I’m not sure. Some strange beast’s mind, I believe…” Aspen frowned. “The astral plane feels so different here. I couldn’t find my way. This will be more difficult than I thought.”
“So how are we going to find this key, then?” Virgil asked.
“Not sure about the key, butthisshould lead us to the next door.” Vera produced the compass. “Just like it did in the Wychwood.”
“Can’t exactly open the door without a key.”
“Thank you, Virgil, I know how doors work,” Vera quipped. “Where do you suggest we go? The desert stretches on in every direction with no end in sight, and we’re all hungry and thirsty and tired. We can at the very least start walking in the direction of the door and hope for the best.”
Emory found herself agreeing with Vera, hiding a smile as Virgilgrumbled something under his breath. They ventured out shortly after, following the direction of the compass. Emory couldn’t help but notice Romie and Nisha walking closely together, all secret smiles and brushing hands. A pang of jealousy hit her, fueled by the way Romie had been ignoring her since they’d gotten to the Wastes. It was like they were back in their first year at Aldryn, with Emory watching her best friend slip through her fingers.
Except maybe this time Romie was justified. After what happened on the ley line…
No. Emory wouldn’t let herself think of that. She picked up the pace to walk beside Vera, who led the pack and was studying the compass like her life depended on it.
“How did you know Adriana was my mother?” Emory blurted out. She herself hadn’t even known her mother’s true name until Keiran told her, right before he died.
Adriana Kazan.
Luce Meraude.
Mother, sailor, liar.
“Baz told me,” Vera stated, eyes darting away from Emory’s.
“Baz knew my mother as Luce Meraude, not Adriana Kazan.”
A beat. Then: “Adriana was my aunt.” Vera chanced a look at Emory. “That makes us cousins, I suppose.”
“Oh.”
Emory let that knowledge sink between them.Cousins. She had never known family outside of her father, who was an only child, and his parents, who had died when she was young. Her mother had been a mystery, but now here was something concrete, a living piece of her family tree, someone who shared her blood.
“She disappeared years ago looking for Clover’s epilogue,” Vera continued. “Set out from Trevel and sailed across the seas to find it.” She frowned at the compass in her hand before holding it out to Emory. “You should have this.”
“Keep it,” Emory said, trying to hold back the bitterness from her words. “It was never really mine to begin with.”
Just like her mother. This woman she had never known, who’d had an entire family to love and be loved by, people to remember her long after she was gone. People who knew her when Emory never would.
Adriana Kazan—the real woman, the person behind all the mystery—seemed to belong to everyone but Emory. She had only ever known her mother as Luce Meraude, the sailor. A storybook character that her younger self could fantasize about, a fabricated persona she was free to dream up in her mind.
That person belonged to no one but the sea.
There wasn’t a single version of her mother that was hers, and holding a damn compass wouldn’t change that.
