Emory pulled back sharply, staring at Sidraeus with a sudden idea. “I need to show you something.”
25BAZ
APERSISTENT KNOCKING AT HISdoor woke him from a deep, dreamless sleep.
Judging by the dim light coming through his window, it was barely dawn. Baz groggily reached for his glasses and hurried to pull the door open. Emory stood on the other side along with a sleepy-looking Virgil. The Shadow hovered a few steps behind them, looking sullen at being dragged into whatever this was.
Baz palmed the back of his head. “Um. Hi?”
“Sorry to wake you,” Emory said, “but this couldn’t wait.”
“It very well could have,” Virgil lamented, rubbing at his eyes.
Emory ignored him, shoving him inside Baz’s room.
“Is everything all right?” Baz asked.
Emory was rummaging through the small desk tucked between the bed and the wall. “I’m assuming Professor Selandyn still has the ritual?”
“Yes…” Baz eyed the Shadow, who trailed quietly into the room and shut the door behind him, looking about as pleased to be hereas Baz was to have him in his space after he tried to strangle him. “What’s this about?”
“No idea.” Virgil plopped down on the bed. “These two barged into my room and dragged me here. And I was having the loveliest dream, too…”
Emory looked pleased with herself when she found a blank piece of paper and a pencil. She held them out to Baz. “You still good at drawing?”
“Well, I—”
Emory all but shoved the paper and pencil in his hands. “Could you draw the tree that’s on the ritual? I need to show Virgil and Sidraeus.”
Sidraeus.It sounded so… personal… coming from her mouth.
“Why?”
“Because I think I know what the ritual might entail. And I need these two to confirm it.”
Virgil put the pillow over his head. “It’s too early to require my help.”
Baz laid the paper on the desk and leaned over it, pencil at the ready. He blinked the sleep out of his eyes and carefully sketched the tree as he remembered it. Emory hovered over his shoulder, nodding fervently.
“May I?” she asked, snatching the drawing from Baz before he’d even finished and holding it up to Virgil, who still had his head buried under the pillow and might very well have fallen asleep. “Virgil, tell me what this looks like.”
A grumble of protest as the pillow came flying. Virgil sat up and peered at the drawing. The death glare he gave Emory was nothing short of spectacular. “You woke me up to look at a drawing of a tree?”
“Not just any tree. Youjustdreamed of this.”
“How do you know what I was dreaming about?”
“I was there with you, remember?”
“Oh. I thought I was dreaming you up.” He grinned at her. “Emory Ainsleif, you sentimental thing, you. What an honor to have you checking on me in my sleep.”
Emory swatted him. “Focus. Doesn’t this remind you of the Reaper tree?”
Virgil squinted at the drawing again. “I mean, I guess? No offense to your talents, Brysden, but this could be any old tree.”
“What’s the Reaper tree?” Baz asked, feeling confused.
“Just this tree that’s in Decrescens Hall that we Reapers practice magic on.”
