Page 150 of Revels on an Angel’s Grave

“He should still be here,” Myrella raged, swinging again. “And I shouldn’t be so…”

She panted, continuing to swing. Emmeline didn’t know how Myrella would have finished that sentence, but the bubble that inflated in her chest at that moment was a mix of pride for her friend letting all of this out and anguish for her feeling it in the first place.

For everything they were all battling that was so unfair.

Everyone’s grief over Nico was so unique, so layered. His loss ripped apart different things in each of their lives. Crushing dreams that left them all floundering. That caused her to expose her deepest secrets, sent her to this city to be used, shown off, and manipulated.

And suddenly, that vase in the center of the room was the most appealing thing in the entire Angelsdamned capital. Something she could bend, break, shatter, just as Valyn was trying to do to her.

Emmeline strode forward and swung her mallet over her shoulder. And with the force of every Fate swirling through her, she slammed it into the vase.

Shards of clay scattered everywhere, against her reinforced leathers, over her boots and the tiled floors, the crash deafening. Not waiting, Emmeline brought the weapon down again.

Again and again, she swung.

Again and again, pieces scattered.

And with each strike, her frustration finally had a place to breathe.

She’d felt trapped within these walls for weeks now. Since arriving here. Since realizing how everyone viewed her—wanted to use her.

Coveted.

Desired.

Kept.

But never belonging.

For each word that beat through her, she hit another item, smashed another broken sculpture, until they were in as many pieces as her insides had been shredded to. Until they were as irreparable as the world had made her.

Stay away, or forfeit his life.

The louder you scream, the less others will believe you.

Emmeline beat each threat into dust in the sculpture graveyard.

With each swing, a part of her mind cleared, liberated from the weight of this society, bit by broken bit.

Emmeline spun around, grabbing a small clay vase from the shelf and tossing it at her feet. But when it hit the marble and shattered into a dozen starlike shards, a cloud of smoke filled the air, twisting with peaches and amber so potent it immediately sucked her into a reading.

The hammer tumbled from her hand, clattering to the floor as she blinked her eyes open on the plane between realms.

And Myrella stood next to her.

She blinked at Emmeline, hair whipping around her as she twirled in a circle, flickering starfire flames dancing across the shiny locks. “What’s going on?”

“That last vase,” Emmeline said, understanding. “I think it held an old stash of herbs. They must have steeped in there for so long, they’re stronger than normal. When I shattered it, they were exposed, and it pulled us into a reading.”

“But why are we both here?” Myrella asked.

“I don’t know,” Emmeline muttered. Overhead, the stars winked and swirled, drifting through the sky as if untethered. “Another joint reading.”

“Like with Desmond,” Myrella inferred.

Emmeline hummed in agreement, transfixed with the stars. Their movements accelerated, forging and breaking constellations above, falling into lines and shapes. Some shone brighter than the rest, twinkling like celestial landmarks.

Almost like⁠—