Page 57 of Revels on an Angel’s Grave

“It did,” Emmeline agreed. “Your family is truly special.”

“It is.” She grinned. Fates, it was so much like Siena’s.

“Do you miss them?” Emmeline asked, looking at the stars.

“Every day.”

It was clear from the lingering silence Alana had more complicated feelings around that confession, but she didn’t elaborate, so Emmeline didn’t push.

This was Roremar’s sister. The one he’d been grateful was on the continent because she was tied to the Fate of Cruelty and Adoration like Dryvius’s victims.

“By the way, you may have Nico’s eyes and pieces of the young ones, too, but that scheming tonight? That was all your big brother.”

Lola breathed a watery laugh, pride lifting her lips. “We got into so much trouble as children.”

“I can imagine.” And Emmeline did. She imagined all the Silventas, happy and together. With both of their loving parents and not a care in the world.

And she cursed the Fates for the fortunes bestowed on them, gaze narrowing on the stars.

“Call me Lola, by the way,” Alana said. “It’s not only Roremar’s name for me. It’s everyone who’s family. I switched to my full name on the continent, but… you should call me Lola.”

The sentiment squeezed Emmeline’s throat. Suddenly, she wasn’t just picturing the Silventa family but herself with them, sitting on that beach beneath their home. Myrella and Desmond were there. Nico, too. They were all…happy.

“Okay, Lola.” With the name, Emmeline’s walls crumbled a little more. Not enough to share all her secrets, but a camaraderie formed between the two of them. She took a deep breath, asking, “You know Roremar didn’t do it, right?”

“Of course, I do,” Lola said defensively. “Even before I learned of his Fate tie, I knew something was wrong.”

“Me, too.” Emmeline sketched Dryvius’s arched constellation, the charcoal smearing across the parchment in abrasive, intense strokes. “I don’t think anyone else here believes he’s innocent, though. Rocarri thinks Roremar’s in danger from the other competitors. He said if they see me favoring him, they’ll likely try to take him out quicker.”

“Fucked Fates. I’ll talk to Eston. His brother is on the barracks rotation. Maybe he can keep an eye out.”

Hopefully that would be enough. Emmeline had a sick feeling it wouldn’t be so easy.

A short while later, they moved back inside, the mystlight brightening as Emmeline’s mind whirled. “I need to find the weak points in Rocarri’s potential council. That’s who I’ll target to see if we can convince anyone of Roremar’s innocence.”

“The Presentation of the surviving contestants is tomorrow night. We can start there,” Lola said, and she hugged Emmeline in what could only be described as a familial way. “For what it’s worth, I don’t know all the details of what happened between you and my brother, but I know why you went into that seeing chamber. And I saw the way he looked at you tonight. You’re special to him.”

He’s everything to me.

“I know,” Emmeline said, not bothering to deny it when they’d already poured out so much. Her throat tightened, and she pulled back, tugging her blanket tighter around her shoulders. “That’s what frightens me.”

Pressure weighing on her, Emmeline sighed into the quiet room. Across the bedchamber, a stack of notes waited atop her desk. She crossed and picked up the top slip of paper that had likely appeared before the trial took place. She released a breath at the familiar handwriting.

No news.

Desmond had only given her two words in response to her request about Roremar, but she’d written before she knew he was here. Resolving to send Desmond an update tomorrow, Emmeline set the letter aside, and inspected what was beneath it. An aged scroll, no seal or stamp in sight. The parchment was creased, so delicate she thought it would crumble if she held it too tightly.

“What in all the Fates?” she whispered.

Padding nearer to the mystlight lantern, Emmeline slipped a finger beneath the seal and unrolled it.

“What is that?” Lola asked.

“I don’t know.” Emmeline’s eyes flicked across the faded grey ink. “It’s not in the common tongue, and I don’t recognize the language.”

A chill scurried down her spine. The bedroom door and tall balcony entrances were all locked. There was no indication of who had left it here, but it hadn’t been sent with Desmond’s letter.

Heart pounding, Emmeline scanned the desk again and found another note.