IT TOOK THE ENTIRETY OFHOMEALONEPLUSEMBRY’S GENEROUSoffer to play his favorite movie of all time—Dead Poets Society, naturally—before Rye finally succumbed to the fact that he was human and fell asleep.
Okay, well, thatandthat when she’d offered to make him tea, Embry had dropped in the same sleeping draught he’d joked to Lazarus about using on her earlier that evening.
“Thanks for the idea, Knighton.” It was indulgent to whisper those words, but considering she’d had very few wins over the last several days, Embry indulged. She patted him on a scruffy cheek, before slipping upstairs to change into another black pair of tights, a midnight quarter zip, and pull her now-dry hair into a ponytail. She wasn’t sure what Rye had done with the retired phone she’d used that morning, so she kept her current one for emergency’s sake, then snuck out the conservatory door and into the night.
Rye was right about many things, but he’d been wrong about the plan hatching in her brain. Instead of downtown, Embry pointed herself toward the route she took almost daily after putting Daddy through his paces and setting out high-fiber breakfasts: Raven’s End.
She slipped into the woods, past the gate, and saluted the statue of Hiram Woodcross before continuing her brisk pace down the path winding from one end of the cemetery to the other. But justas the canopy of half-bald red maples opened to frame the spires of Old Main in the distance, came a sound Embry did not expect.
“Woodcross! Wait!”
The yell was muted, not so much a shout as a whisper that traveled long distance. Some trick of magic, surely. Embry was too panicked and determined to take the same precaution and instead hissed over her shoulder. “You should be asleep. Like, sound asleep.”
Footsteps came closer, at a fast clip. A run. She started running, too, the wrought iron gate leading from Raven’s End to the grounds of Raven’s Head catching moonlight along its sharp black edges.
“Insomnia knows no bounds. Even with magical enhancement.”
Gosh darn him—she should’ve used that one immobilization spell Daddy taught her for self-defense. Rye was gaining on her, even though she was the one who held several middle-distance marks for her magical designation in the Raven’s Head record books.
“You’re not supposed to be here.”
“Well, I am.”
Rye’s voice was close now, and Embry suddenly found herself pinned between the cemetery gate and his incoming form. So she hit the brakes and whirled on him, ponytail whipping so hard it slapped against the metal bars and skidded to her opposite shoulder.
“How? Did you trace my phone like a creep?” She tossed the accusation at Rye with all the force she could muster, even as her heart surged at the fact that he was here. Even though she’d done nearly everything she could to prevent him from following her and thus incurring the wrath of Daddy.
“Your phone? Jesus. No.” Rye’s face was truly horrified at the notion. “I just know you.”
Embry scoffed at him and wound her arms across her chest. He’d said that many times, most especially lately, and it was much easier to push back against what that could mean than to accept it and dare for something good. “That’s not an explanation.”
Rye cleared his throat, looked away. Toward the statue of Hiram Woodcross, standing tall and ever adventurous, looking toward a new, witch trial–free life in Maine. Putting down roots that apparently could be upended four hundred years later by his many times great-granddaughter and the unfortunate murder of a vampire. When Rye looked back, the horror had fled his features, replaced with… sheepishness?
“I woke up, and I immediately knew it was because you’d left.” Embry could picture him, bolting upright on the couch the moment the conservatory door snicked shut.
“That still doesn’t explain why you’re here and so quickly.” Her fingers dug into her biceps as her forearms pressed in on her rib cage. “I could’ve just gone to my own bed to sleep.” Now Rye scoffed back. She was Team No Sleep just as much as he was. “OrI could’ve taken your handy suggestion and gone for the Ravenwood PD evidence locker.”
Rye took a step closer, and Embry was surprised that the sheepishness etched deeper into his features. So deep that his perpetual pout turned upward again, bashful.
“We both know if it’s between my suggestion and your own independent idea, I’ll lose every time.” They both did know that. “I knew where you’d gone because you’re willful enough to toss yourself into the fire after we’d had an entire conversation about how this killer might want you not only blamed but dead.”
It wasn’t an accusation, but she handled it like one. As if they were on Jonesy’s stage, playing improv, trying to keep each other on their toes.
“And I don’t want to be blamed or dead. I can’t sit still and justlet Daddy’s lawyers handle it.” She thrust a hand toward the house beyond the trees for emphasis. “Thanks for showing me I had agency in this because on Sunday night I was ready to just wallow in wait. But now? Now, I have to dosomething. Even if it’s stupid.”
Rye didn’t flinch. He just did his patented direct stare and agreed, “It is stupid.”
“Then I’m stupid!” Embry was stage-whispering now, the words churning forth like a firehose. “I always thought people actually liked me. Not because of my last name, but because I’m smart, friendly, and kind. But maybe I was never any of those things. I was a stupid, vapid, self-absorbed nepo baby who made a good mark for some Disney villain out here, killing my friends and blaming me for it. First Oakley, next will be Balthazar. And until I have proof Alistair is holed up on his mothers’ Christmas tree farm, I’m going to lump him in, too. Surely three dead bodies will be enough to bring down the great, terrible, stupid Embry Woodcross!”
She was breathing hard now, half horrified, half relieved that she could be this raw with Rye out in the open. Embry slunk away from him, from her outburst and the ugliness of her fury.
Rye accepted her anger, mouth resolute even as his expression was tender. Not combative or fearful or shielded in any way. But soft, vulnerable, true.
“Woodcross, youaresmart. Youarekind. Youarelovely.” Rye paused, throat working, and added with an audible rasp. “Youarebeautiful.”
Embry’s breath caught. She felt his words as much as she heard them. Rye told her he cared about her all the time. He’d even said it in the middle of their first fight about Balthazar.
I think about you because I care about you.
