Page 61 of Revels on an Angel’s Grave

“But you just did!” Emmeline raged.

And that is all my tongue may share.

“What about the tournament?” If she could find the right question, perhaps she’d get a fortune she could use.

That future is blocked from my likes, as well.

Emmeline’s heart deflated. She wasn’t able to learn anything about the entire tournament from the Fates? How was that possible?

The thought unsettled her. Fortunes weren’t written in stone, but there was a comfort in them. Now, she’d be operating completely blind as she tried to get Roremar out and, apparently, save him from Dryvius’s manipulation again.

Then, Anphrosia assumed a different, weightier voice, declaring, Remedy a past scorned daring, and cross with bloodied footsteps faring.

Breath shuddered out of Emmeline at the shift in the Fate’s tone. Anphrosia said she couldn’t speak of Dryvius anymore, but perhaps this was to do with him. A past scorned daring could be Roremar, getting revenge on Dryvius for all he’d done, or…

Or it could be the Fate. Why he did this in the first place.

Heat seared Emmeline’s skin, eleven constellations flashing overhead.

And heart pounding, palms tingling, she screamed her next question to their realm, directed at every Fate who dared to seek her. “Can you show me how to clear Roremar’s name? What does Dryvius want?”

A thunder of voices answered, eleven Fated forms wavering beneath each of their constellations as if she’d summoned them.

Tombstones and ribbons of flesh,

Candles and tears spread mourning.

Feathered remnants for reliquary memories,

Seek and be sought, child.

She wasn’t sure which Fate spoke which fortune—if it was all of them or one or some combination—but the words sank into her frame like only the most powerful readings could. Ones written with the prophetic powers of gods and eons of cosmic rites seeming to seep from the earth of Valyn itself.

Her heart pounded at the strength, a searing silver flashing, and Emmeline gasped, snapping back to the realm.

Overhead, Rocarri still spoke to whoever his companion was about what the current wagers in the tournament looked like, but neither seemed aware of her presence. Incense gently trailed through the hatch, so Emmeline wandered a few feet down the corridor to catch her breath. Stopping beneath a mystlight lantern welded into the wall, she pulled out her journal, making note of everything from the reading.

Her mind was still spinning when a piece of paper flared to life below the mystlight, slowly wafting to the floor. Emmeline snatched it, unfolding it to find Lola’s neat handwriting.

Graves is looking for you.

“Fates,” Emmeline swore.

She may not have found an answer about her sister today, but she did learn one thing—this city stored secrets where she least expected it. And she had a feeling if she looked closely enough—if she played the game long enough and listened to her Fate ties—she’d be able to find everything she needed.

Chapter Twenty-One

Emmeline

The saving grace of the evening was that the Presentation of the surviving contestants wasn’t hosted at the Chancellor’s manor. The white stone walls and endless maze of marble halls were stifling.

Emmeline and Lola had prepared for the evening in her bedchamber, flocked by a team of attendants clucking over her appearance. They’d washed and combed her waves and ignored her request to do it herself, setting one side back from her face with a diamond encrusted comb, the gems artfully arranged in a cluster meant to resemble one of Valyrie’s constellations: the Fated Lovers.

They tightly laced her into a silver gown with a layered tulle skirt, tiny diamonds carving out patterns along the entire thing, and frilly straps sitting off her shoulders. When they weren’t looking, she slid a dagger on her thigh, partially because she hated being unprotected and partially because she needed to knot the chain with Roremar’s ring somewhere it wouldn’t be visible.

After last night, there wasn’t a chance in all the Fates she was leaving it behind again.

The sun had set early on the late fall day, night bathing Valyn hours before dinner began. As they made their way across the First District, surrounded by the Chancellor’s personal guests, including his own bonded partner, magic pounded through Emmeline’s chest.