Page 148 of Revels on an Angel’s Grave

“Fate Bound Seekers?” Myrella repeated from the floor of Emmeline’s dressing chamber the next day, gowns shoved aside to reveal her evidence map, which now had a new section exclusively dedicated to the cult.

“Yes,” Emmeline said. “Have either of you ever heard of them?”

Lola shook her head, fingers sliding through her hair. “Never.”

“Based on the notes in Rocarri’s office, they’re a cult,” Emmeline explained. “They originated in the southwest jungles, and their primary beliefs center on deep branches of Fate magic and myths, the kind that are only rumored to be true. Like tears from Pheasantos hold healing properties if caught immediately as they fall.”

“That aligns with what I know of Rocarri,” Lola said. “He and his partner met at an academy in Tortorria decades ago. It would make sense if he had ties to this cult or learned about it while in school.”

Myrella crawled across the floor to study Emmeline’s notes closer, not commenting. She’d been reclusive the past few days. Emmeline had barely seen her, and when she had, Myrella wasn’t talking much.

“Do you think this cult could have anything to do with the ones from Lyra? The Realmspinners?” Myrella asked.

“Nothing is impossible. There was very little information on the Realmspinners on Lyra.”

Myrella only nodded, scanning the pages tacked to the wall.

Worry tangled through Emmeline at her silence. She missed Myrella’s enthusiasm and unrestrained commentary, the way she lit every room she walked into. But grief came in waves. One day one would feel a little more okay, and the next, one would find a misplaced note or article of clothing from the person one lost and be shoved back.

Everyone mourned in their own way. Emmeline couldn’t force Myrella through it. All she could do was meet her where she was.

Emmeline rose, crossing to the window. Another rainy afternoon in the Starsearcher capital, another day of the stars being obscured and her feeling abandoned by them. Water droplets speckled the glass, and she flinched with each that landed.

“What if Rocarri is a member of the Fate Bound Seekers?” Emmeline proposed, whipping around to face Lola, needing to look away from the rain. “What if he’s a plant here trying to fulfill whatever their mission is?”

“That would be a ruse a long time in the making,” Lola argued. “It takes years to climb the ranks to Chancellor. You think they’d have that kind of patience?”

Emmeline thought back to the mad gleam she’d seen in Rocarri’s eyes, the spark growing each time they interacted.

“I think when you want something badly enough, you’ll wait as long as you need to get it.” She pressed a hand to her sternum, the cool metal of Roremar’s ring biting into her skin. “I’m fairly certain I overheard him talking to a competitor in the Races last week, remember? It sounded like they were conspiring together. What if they’re both plants?”

Lola’s fingers twisted faster through her hair. “What do you think they want?”

“I don’t know.” Emmeline sighed, toying with Roremar’s ring.

Lola gave her a sympathetic smile, gaze dropping to Emmeline’s hands. “I visited him this morning.”

“And?” She held her breath.

“After my father’s death, Roremar never stopped. He never grieved. He kept moving to take care of all of us. Now…” Lola swallowed. “Each day he’s confined without answers, he’s growing more restless. I think he’s being pushed to his breaking point.”

“What does that look like?” Emmeline asked, reaching inside herself for that part that belonged to him and trying to soothe it.

“I don’t know,” Lola admitted. “But the third trial is less than a week away. And if the two coincide…”

“Reckless.” Emmeline exhaled, understanding Lola’s point. “We need to figure out what Rocarri wants and how this tournament facilitates it fast—how and if Rocarri is connected to Dryvius and how the Fate is meddling in all this—or Roremar could sign his own death warrant.”

“There’re so many pieces,” Myrella whispered, studying the wall.

The notes from Nico’s death.

The other victims on Lyra.

The temple murder in Valyn.

The Warders of Selene, the myths about Dryvius and Anphrosia, the Fate Bound Seekers, and whatever Aldryn Falliare was doing in this Fatesdamned capital…

“There are.” Emmeline was being crushed by the weight of them—by the demands of this city. By the way they grabbed at her magic but didn’t trust her to define it.