With the tide receding, it was safe for them to climb down the secret stairs from the Eclipse commons. Half of them were heading for Emory and the others, and the rest toward Baz, Ife, and Alya.
Suddenly a thick blanket of darkness unfolded across the cove, attacking the Regulators. They retreated toward the Eclipse commons, shouting in terror at whatever they saw in the shadows chasing after them—shadows that were coming from Emory.Baz heard Drutten yelling at his people to get behind the school’s wards as Emory advanced calmly through the chaos, sand and sea and shadows swirling around her in a lethal dance.
This was not the same Emory he knew. If Baz had thought her different at the beginning of the school year, in the wake of Romie’s drowning, that was nothing compared to what he saw now. There was a hardness to her. As if all the sharp edges that perhaps had always been there were filed to barbs now. As if the storm clouds in her eyes had turned into a hurricane, promising a flood. An all-consuming destruction of those around her—and perhaps herself, too.
Baz stepped in front of her. “Emory.”
Those stormy eyes met his. For a second it felt like she didn’t see him. That she didn’t remember who he was and would doom them both, letting the hurricane of her power drown them to ruin.
But then the clouds lifted.
A glimmer of light. A flash of something soft and tender and hopeful.
“Baz?” Her voice came out in an awed whisper. Her brows scrunched up in confusion as the power around her flickered in and out. Like she didn’t fully trust what she saw. “Is it really you?”
Baz approached her with his palms up. “Of course it’s me.”
She swayed on her feet, a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob spilling from her lips. And then her arms were around Baz, her face buried in his neck, and he was holding her tightly, so tightly, if only just to prove to himself that she was real. That this was real.
“I’m sorry,” she cried into his shoulder. “I tried everything, but she’s—Romie’s gone, Baz.”
Baz held her at arm’s length, her tearstained face breaking his heart as much as her words. “What do you mean, gone?”
“She’s Atheia’s vessel. The Tides, I mean. They have her now, and they’ve come here to—they’re here because—”
Baz could barely understand. All he heard in what Emory said was that Romie was alive, andhere, in this world.
“I can sense her near.”
This came from the auburn-haired boy hovering behind Emory. His head was tilted toward the cliffside, and his nostrils flared as he inhaled the brine of the sea. He took a step, face darkening with something hungry and dangerous—until a cry of pain slipped from him as he stumbled back, clutching his side.
He glowered at Emory, face contorted in pain and rage. “I was promised vengeance.”
“Not yet,” she gritted out.
Baz caught her as she lurched on her feet. It took a moment for the bloodied dagger in her hand to register. Blood seeped through her clothes where she—
“Did youstabyourself?”
Emory waved off the high-pitched concern in his voice with a watery smile. “I’ll be fine. Is there somewhere safe we can go and—”
“This is ridiculous,” the boy cut her off. “We can end this all right now if you just let me go after Atheia.”
“I saidno.” Emory’s steely tone sent a shiver up Baz’s spine.
The dark power that emanated from the strange boy was unsettling. “Who is he?” Baz asked, fighting the urge to pull Emory away from him.
“This is Sidraeus,” Emory said. Then, haltingly, “Otherwise known as the Shadow.”
Baz’s eyes went wide as he took in the Tides-damneddeitystanding before him—as the Shadow himself looked back at him with familiar ecliptic eyes, reminding Baz of the darkness that had spilled into Keiran’s revived corpse.
Behind him, Alya swore. “The Tidelore cultists are going to have a field day with this.”
It couldn’t possibly be the Shadow. He looked nothing like the hundreds of images Baz had seen of the supposedly evil Eclipse deity, but then again, those might have been overly influenced by the Tidelore faith’s hatred for Eclipse-born over time. He noticed then the spiral marks etched on his skin that peaked out from beneath the embroidered navy jacket he had on. They were like replicas of the spiral Emory had on her wrist, but multiplied, some small and some large, looping together in a great pattern. All of them glowed faintly.
“We need to get to safety before the tide comes back,” Ife said. “Or worse—Drutten and his Regulators.”
She was holding on to Nisha, who smiled faintly at Baz. Virgil gave him a jerk of his chin, looking graver than Baz had ever seen him. Whatever they’d gone through to get here, it was bleak.
