Page 152 of Revels on an Angel’s Grave

The stars overhead stuttered in their incomplete map, constellations pulsing on the horizon.

“It’s like they’re stuck,” Myrella observed.

Emmeline tried to siphon the power rippling from Myrella to command the stars. They wavered in the distance, longing in their waning light.

She pulled harder, tugging at all her Fate ties—at Myrella’s magic, too. Glass shattered, and Myrella gasped, but the far-off constellations only vibrated as if pounding on a barrier.

“We need more,” Emmeline said.

“More?”

“More magic. The joint readings, they’re unveiling something. The two I’ve been taken into—unintentional as they were—have given us steps forward.”

“So, you want Desmond, too?”

“Not just him.” An idea sprouted in her mind, and though it was reckless, she couldn’t help her grin. “We need to think much larger.”

Chapter Fifty

Emmeline

“It’s different than on a battlefield,” Emmeline explained to Desmond as they walked to the vineyards the next morning with Myrella. Graves led the group, Eston bringing up the rear with Lola.

Though they were all dressed for the extravagant affair Rocarri was hosting, shadows framed their eyes from staying up all night. If Emmeline slept for an hour, she’d have been surprised. Still, she’d dressed in the dazzling ice-blue gown that was expected of her, layers of beaded skirts swishing over the cobblestones as they made their way to the carnival Rocarri was hosting, woven around his own personal vineyard outside the city.

The rain had cleared overnight, the late morning air fresh, an inquisitive breeze wafting down the cobblestones. Songs poured from the lips of the crowds spilling out of taverns and lounging in gardens. The event today was invitation only, but most Starsearchers were celebrating regardless.

Though, Emmeline had to admit, something in the air had shifted after the second trial. There was an aftershock of nerves on the streets now, as if Starsearchers hadn’t loved seeing magic used against the competitors. Killing over a dozen of them.

“How do these readings differ?” Desmond asked as they passed a group of children attempting to draw on the wet cobblestones with chalk, getting frustrated with each line that blurred.

“On a battlefield, Arenothos and Anhala are primarily read, and there’s strategy to it—the timing, the questions asked—but each of those readings are intended to be independent. Here, today, if we can light the incense Myrella and I carefully composed to employ joint reading properties, we can orchestrate a large-scale connection, and hopefully, I can pull multiple Starsearchers in together without them even realizing.”

Then, like she had with Myrella at the pottery studio, she could feed off their magic to strengthen her own and get the constellations that had been stuck on the horizon to click into place in that star map.

Hopefully that would reveal whatever the Fates wanted her to know about how this all connected.

Wind chimes swung on the breeze, the stained glass reflecting a myriad of colors across the stone path, and Emmeline’s nerves pricked higher with each gentle chime. This had to work.

“And it won’t cloud your own session to have so many voices reading at once?” Myrella asked, worry darkening her eyes.

“No,” Emmeline assured her, though she didn’t truly know. “I’ve been practicing with intense readings for years. It will be powerful—a bit overwhelming, probably—but my magic has been like that a lot lately. I’ll be okay.”

“No one else will realize it’s a joint reading?” Desmond checked.

“Not if Myrella and I got the proportions correct while mixing everything. The ones we’re leaving in the public areas are partially recreational. They’re tailored to draw in Starsearchers but not completely absorb them. It should be enough that I can siphon off their magic but they’ll be lulled into a normal session if anything.”

They’d had to sneak into apothecaries in the First District and lift the supplies, leaving behind generous sums of coins. Then, she and Myrella had spent the entire night mixing everything in her bathing chamber while Lola kept watch.

Emmeline’s gut twisted at the memory of stealing from innocent shops, but it caved in entirely at the thought of Roremar in a cell, suffering for crimes he didn’t commit. At the memory of Serchus referring to him and Dryvius as locks and keys, their paths forever entwined.

She uncurled her fingers from her palms, smoothing down her skirt as the gate to the vineyards rose in the distance. “It will work.”

As they approached the entrance to the vineyards, the crowds lining the streets pressed closer. Many craned their necks, drinks in hand as they tried to see through the wooden fence ahead.

One man reached for Emmeline, lunging over the roped boundaries with outstretched fingers. He brushed her sleeve, but Desmond shoved him back, and he toppled on top of the people behind him. A fight broke out, more and more warriors eagerly reaching for her.

The commotion caught Graves’s attention. He instantly whirled around, blocking Emmeline so she could enter the vineyard.