Page 90 of Revels on an Angel’s Grave

“Noted. Let me know if you need anything,” Perry said, and the two left.

As he disappeared into the crowd, Emmeline couldn’t help the suspicion twisting through her gut.

Shaking it off, she stepped up to the roped off boundary beside Desmond and Myrella. Many people were backing away from the gruesome scene, but Valyn City Guard roamed the steps before the temple.

“Do you know how they compare to Isle Guard?” Desmond whispered, hand fisting on the rope.

“From what I hear, they’re no more competent, but have larger numbers.” She kept her voice low so Eston wouldn’t hear, not wanting to offend him personally.

Desmond grunted. “More of a nuisance then.”

“Yes, but—oh. Cyren!” Emmeline called as she spotted the General standing at the base of the Temple talking to warriors dressed in the regalia of the City Guard, the Starsearcher’s eleven-starred symbol on their cloaks.

Cyren looked over, waving a hand to signal them to cross the boundary.

“Thanks for letting us through,” Emmeline said.

“Thank the Fates, Emmeline. I think you have a lot more experience with this situation than I do, unfortunately.” Face ashen, Cyren nodded at Eston and introduced themself to Desmond and Myrella. “What were you all doing here?”

“Alana got us into the Archives today,” Emmeline explained, but she didn’t add what they’d been researching.

“We heard the scream,” Myrella added in a voice that sounded so much younger than her twenty-three years. Her round eyes were locked on the puddle of blood on the stone steps. The body had been taken inside by members of Valyn City Guard, but the scarred facade remained.

“May we?” Emmeline asked Cyren.

The General nodded, stepping back and directing the soldiers to do the same.

A small crowd lingered nearby, likely to see what gossip they could gather. Their eyes burrowed into Emmeline’s back as she stepped closer to the scene. To the window the woman had deliberately been dropped over. One of twelve, eleven of which had candles burning behind them. All but the last, a panther she’d stood below just days ago and cursed Dryvius’s name.

Swallowing her resentment, she turned to the display of the murder.

“Is that who I think it is?” Emmeline whispered to Desmond and Myrella, hoping one of them would deny it.

But they both whispered, “Anphrosia.”

The windows weren’t the sigils, nor were they depictions of the Fates, but the symbols made it clear who each represented, and the one where the body had been left bore a veiled, silhouetted bust in the center of the stained glass, crimson wings now stretching out on either side of it.

Emmeline squinted up at them. It was hard to tell from so far below, but it almost looked as if the wings were carved into the stone itself.

Before she could get a closer look, a City Guard exited the temple, his silver uniform smudged with red. Insignia forgotten, Emmeline hurried to him, not bothering with pleasantries.

“Her throat was slit, correct?” Emmeline asked.

The man jolted, clearly lost in his thoughts. His face was pale, brows scrunching together as he realized who she was. Finally, a perk of being the darling they all revered.

“It was.”

Emmeline’s chest tightened, but she forced herself to ask, “And did she have…any tattoos?”

“We haven’t done a full evaluation of the deceased’s body.”

“You wouldn’t need to look far.” Numbness slipped over her with every word, taking her back to each individual victim. She tapped her sternum. “It would be here. On display.”

His lips thinned. “There was something, yes. We haven’t inspected if it’s new or not, and it was partially obscured by the remains of her clothing, but it seemed like a sun or a star of some kind.”

A star of some kind. Like the crooked, twelve-pointed ones Dryvius had inked.

Desmond swore, Myrella releasing a low whimper.