“I never thought you were Mira.”
“That’s not true,” I said. “When we kissed, you thought about all the times you’d kissed Mira.”
“I never said that.” His brow furrowed in genuine confusion.
“Yes. You did.”
Silence for a few seconds as we stared each other down. Because I knew what had happened. He’d definitely said that he’d flashed back to all the times he’d kissed Mira—to all the memories they’d shared together.
Why claim otherwise?
“Fine,” he muttered. “If that’s what you want to think to feel better about it, then fine.”
“Why are you doing this?” I asked.
“Doing what?”
“Being so… stubborn.”
He let out a small chuckle. “You’ve known me for months,” he said. “Haven’t you realized? I’m always stubborn.”
“You and Mira both,” I said.
“And you, too,” he said. “You’re the most determined, focused person I’ve ever met. Which, for the record, are nice ways of saying ‘stubborn.’”
My breath caught again, and I took a step back to get ahold of myself. “Then you should know that I’m determined to take this memory potion. I have to do it. For Mira.”
“You don’t have to do anything,” he said simply. “But fine. If it makes you happy, take the memory potion.”
“So… you’ll do it?” That was surprisingly easy.
“I won’t do it,” he said. “But I won’t stop you from doing it.”
I pressed my lips together. This wasn’t getting us anywhere.
“You should get the potion made as quickly as possible,” he said, and was it just me, or was there a twinge of pain in his voice? “It takes a few hours to brew, and we’re leaving for Ember in the morning.”
I stood there, confused. Because why did he want to remember that kiss? It couldn’t have meant anything to him.
Could it have?
I nearly asked, but I stopped myself.
“Good point,” I said instead. “Thanks.”
Without a glance back at him, I spun around, turned my key in the lock, and stepped into the Library’s ivory hall.
Hecate wasn’t there.
Figured. I sighed in frustration.
Although it was probably a good thing that Hecate wasn’t there, because in that particular moment, the only thing I wanted to know was why Ethan didn’t want to forget that kiss. And that would be a waste of a question, given that there were so many more important things we needed to know regarding what we were about to face.
I stepped through the door again, and entered Mira’s room.
She was lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling while spinning a strand of her hair around her fingers.
She knew I was there, but she didn’t move.
I walked over to the bed, laid down next to her, and also stared at the ceiling. We stayed there like that for a few seconds, in the sort of comfortable silence that only happened with people you’d known your entire life.
“You seem happier,” she finally said.
“I do?”
“Yeah. You seem… less burdened. Which makes zero sense, given what we’re doing tomorrow.”
I let out a long breath and kept staring at the ceiling. Because she was right—it made no sense.
“Maybe I like having a goal again,” I said, trying to make sense of it by speaking it out loud. “We were in limbo before, not knowing what to do or where to go. Now, the decision’s made. There’s nothing else to do but focus on getting it done.”
“I guess.” She shrugged, and I could tell she didn’t relate.
“You want me to sleep in here tonight?” I asked.
“You mean you’re finally going to stop avoiding me?”
I sucked in a sharp breath. “What do you mean?”
“You’ve been avoiding me,” she said simply. “It’s like you’re afraid to talk to me.”
“Since when?” Panic filled me. It had to have been since the kiss. She’d noticed.
Of course she’d noticed. Mira might not be the most intuitive with magic, but she’d always understood people. Especially me.
“For weeks,” she said. “Ever since you got poisoned by that nightshade.”
“Huh.” Something tugged at my thoughts—something important that had happened with the nightshade—but then it was gone. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” she said. “I know it must have been scary to be that close to death.”
“As if we haven’t fought for our lives multiple times since getting our magic.” I chuckled.
“Tell me about it,” she said. “But you know what I mean. I knew we couldn’t actually die on Moon Mountain… but seeing you like that… it was awful. There was nothing I could do to help you. I hated it.”
“You made the healing potion,” I reminded her.
“Harper made the healing potion. At least, she did the hard part.”
“You started making it,” I said. “If you hadn’t, Harper might not have been able to finish in time.”
“True.” She smiled for the first time since I’d come into her room. “Thanks.”
“For what?”
“For believing in me.”
“I always believe in you,” I said. “You’re my twin.”
“True.” She finally moved her gaze away from the ceiling to look at me. “Like it or not, you’re stuck with me.”
“And I’ve always got your back,” I said. “Just like I will in Ember. We’re going to be okay there.”
Hopefully the more times I said it, the more I’d believe it.
She nodded, saying nothing. Mira was never one to sugarcoat anything.
“We have a big day tomorrow,” I finally said. “We should try to get some rest.”
“I don’t know if I’ll be able to sleep,” she said.
“Me, either. But we should try.”
I hadn’t expected to be able to fall asleep. I hadn’t actually wanted to. Because I was going to do what Ethan had suggested and find someone to get me that memory potion. Probably Rosella. She wasn’t a witch, but she’d know who to tell me to go to.
But I must have been more tired than I’d realized, because when I opened my eyes and glanced at the clock, it was the next day. Well, the next night, because of the Haven’s nocturnal schedule.
Mira stretched and rubbed her eyes. “What time is it?” she asked.
Dread pooled in my stomach, and I said, “It’s time to leave for Ember.”
10
Gemma
Saying goodbye to Mom was tough. She tried to be strong, like she’d been when we’d entered into battle with the demons and gone to Lilith’s lair. But as strong as she was, she couldn’t conceal her worry.
While we couldn’t tell her about the keys, since she’d just forget a second later, we calmed her by telling her we could teleport between realms. We said it was an ability that only a rare number of witches had, which was relatively close to the truth.