Chapter 34
Chapter Thirty-Four
Emmeline
“And nothing was taken?” Emmeline repeated.
“Nothing we can find,” Desmond reiterated as he righted one of the bedside tables in his and Myrella’s room.
Emmeline had raced here as soon as she was free from Rocarri’s appointments.
Lola was already here, and they had an hour before they needed to be back at the manor.
After last night, she hadn’t even attempted to avoid Graves.
His and Eston’s voices drifted in from the corridor as she organized the contents of the writing desk that had been tossed out of their drawer, the flat wooden basin tipped over on the floor.
“Not even anything valuable?” Lola asked as she helped Myrella refold clothes.
“Neither of us had many valuables,” Myrella answered. “I have my locket, but I wear that everywhere.” She clasped the gold oval against her sternum, the fine chain slipping over her collarbones. “And Desmond has some art, but that’s it.”
“Just a sketchbook,” Desmond grunted, blond hair swinging in front of his face.
“What about that rock from the sanctuary? The one you bought when you followed Falliare?” Emmeline asked.
Lola’s head whipped toward Desmond and Myrella, a silk dress sliding from her fingers and pooling on the floor at her feet. “You think it was him?”
“After what I’ve seen him partake in recently, I wouldn’t put anything past him.
” Desmond stooped to pick up the dress, gently handing it over to Lola.
He held her eye as he continued, “The thing is safe, though. It was with Myrella. And as much as I hate your uncle, this doesn’t feel like him.
He would have broken in, maybe left a calling card behind, but even if he searched every drawer, I don’t think he would have left it like this. ”
Lola’s shoulders sagged.
“That doesn’t mean whoever it was wasn’t looking for it, though,” Myrella said.
Still, what could make it valuable enough to do this?
“You two need to find another place to stay,” Emmeline said, replacing the drawer into the writing desk.
“I can help them find somewhere safe, and we’ll get everything moved over tonight,” Lola volunteered.
“Thank you,” Emmeline said. “I have some money saved from the stipend Rocarri gives me. Take whatever you need.”
And in the meantime, she’d get dolled up again to face whatever frivolous event the Chancellor had planned for the evening. She’d be paraded around, talk to advisors and governors and competitors, all while every hungering eye was upon her.
Never mind the fact that she had her own efforts to pursue. A sister to find and a tournament to challenge. A man’s innocence to prove.
If she wanted to do those things, she’d have to play their game.
The Fates breathed down Emmeline’s neck as the second trial loomed closer and rumors spread about the murder at the temple. There hadn’t been another death, though in her opinion, Valyn City Guard wasn’t taking a close enough census of all the Anphrosia Fate ties in the city.
How many thousands of people lived in the capital? They were all at risk until this person was caught.
She voiced the concern to Rocarri at dinner last night, but the Governors on either side of her had only laughed her off and sent her to mingle with the competitors.
In protest, she’d remained silently in her seat the rest of the evening.
Two days out from the second trial, she sat in the manor’s study with Lola, Graves and Eston in armchairs near the door.
After their run in a few nights ago, Graves kept shooting Emmeline pointed looks, but given that they were within the Chancellor’s grounds today, he relaxed.
Both guards had opted to wear simple leathers instead of armor, and the change helped Emmeline relax—the slightest bit. She didn’t feel quite so cloistered.
Her mind was preoccupied with so many different topics and how to achieve all her various goals, she felt like a swarm of bees were buzzing through her skull at all times.
Everything was a little hazier than she liked, and she was afraid pieces were slipping past her more and more as this city tried to break her.
She was reviewing her scant notes on the jungles surrounding the Temple of Selene, trying to build a route to track her sister and what they knew of the Warders, when Lola blinked lazily from her reading.
Emmeline immediately jumped up to extinguish the jasmine and orange blossom candles staggered around the table as Lola waved away the lavender incense trailing from the mantle.
The residual burnt scent hung in the air, and Emmeline clung to it to remind herself that the reading was done and Lola was fine.
“How was she?” Emmeline whispered as she took her seat again, her heart racing.
Steadying herself, Lola flicked a glance over her shoulder. By the door, Graves and Eston spoke about the horse and chariot racing competition taking place in the arena tonight to entertain the masses.
Lola leaned toward Emmeline, incense still clouding in her eyes. Emmeline had insisted she use the calming lavender given how erratic Anphrosia had been when she and Desmond accidentally spoke to her during their joint reading.
None of them had wanted Lola to read given that Anphrosia Fate ties were being targeted, but it was uncomfortable and ill-advised to stifle magic for too long. Plus, they were running out of options.
Running out of time.
“Anphrosia was entirely normal,” Lola said, a crease in her brows. “Perhaps a bit more prophetic than usual—distracted, not fully present—but she was her calm, sultry, charming self as I’ve always known her.”
“Distracted,” Emmeline repeated, chewing her lip. “She was so different the other day, though. Not just preoccupied but…mad.” She curled the pages of her journal, folding and unfolding as she considered everything Anphrosia had said to her recently.
Bonds do forge,
Intended yet scorned.
Forced not wanted,
Sacrifices born haunted.
There will be no stop to it. You are too powerful, too cherished and desired. The power must be used.
“She didn’t mention bonds of any sort?” Emmeline reiterated. An idea nagged at the back of her mind, but she didn’t dare unlock that box. She’d stuffed the theory of that particular bond so far down, it would be lost to the depths of herself.
Lola shook her head, scratching at a smudge of maroon paint smeared on the inside of her wrist from her work this morning. “She only spoke about the tumultuous path of my romantic future.”
Emmeline lifted a brow, gaze flicking to Eston. “Anyone intriguing?”
Lola rolled her eyes, and for a moment, Emmeline saw the youngest Silventa, Siena, in her dramatics. “I fear I’ll be alone in my art studio until the end of my days, telling the stories of other great loves and tragedies with a brush.”
“Cruelty and adoration in watercolor.”
Lola snickered. “Why bonds, though?”
“My readings have been more controlled since I read with Desmond,” Emmeline explained. “We didn’t intend to conduct a joint reading, but the Fates pulled us in. It’s how they answered when we asked about Dryvius and the tournament. What if that’s the point?”
“Joint readings?” Lola repeated.
“Bonding ceremonies maybe?” Emmeline fidgeted with her ring. “I don’t know, perhaps there’s another hint in the joint readings that we need to look at.”
She didn’t meet Lola’s eye, and eventually her friend let it drop, instead tilting her head toward Emmeline’s notes. “What are you working on?”
“Nothing,” she said, closing the journal. She’d told Lola she was looking for someone, but hadn’t given her anymore details. Lola had enough to worry about with her own family. Beneath her breath, Emmeline added, “At least nothing I’ve had time for given that Rocarri had me busy all week.”
“It’s his way of reminding you how little control you have.”
“Trust me, I know,” Emmeline swore, flipping to a blank page more aggressively than was necessary and pressing her pen into the surface so an angry ink blot bled out.
The door to the study groaned open, and Myrella raced in, her cheeks flushed and eyes more alight than Emmeline had seen in weeks.
“What is it?” Emmeline whispered as she approached, careful to hide too much enthusiasm when Graves and Eston looked their way.
Myrella pulled out a chair at the table and dropped her voice. “Poison.”
“What?” Emmeline breathed.
Myrella took out the scroll and a stack of notes, and Emmeline’s stomach plummeted when she realized what her friend meant. “I don’t know what exactly—the translations are messy—but the second trial involves poisons.”
Myrella spread papers across the table, a flutter of hurriedly scratched Endasi words she’d been deciphering and translation texts, flipping through the pages to point them all out.
“Remember all the patterns we highlighted?” Myrella reminded Emmeline, pointing to the section they’d worked on together earlier this week.
“The stuff on the Fates?”
They’d realized the last few paragraphs of the scroll used the same words in the same sequence repeatedly and hypothesized they translated to things such as Cruelty and Adoration, Wrath and Redemption.
Chaos and Revelry.
Her heart beat faster at that one.
“Yes, but also this section.” Myrella pointed to a paragraph in the middle of the page, then dragged her notes closer to Emmeline.
“Selucro e santu, reliquam,” Emmeline read aloud.
“It’s another of those phrases repeated again and again, but this one is often in conjunction with Angel or Valyrie explicitly. I assumed it’s a reference to a sanctuary to worship the Angel.”
“Santu, sanctuary. It makes sense.”
“Yes,” Myrella agreed. “But it wasn’t lining up with what I thought the rest meant. So, I started to look at it differently. What if the stuff above that isn’t about sanctuaries, but the darker side of their coin.”
“How does that connect to poisons?”
“I don’t think that’s a direct correlation. I do think there’s a sanctuary that’s important, but it got me thinking about the broader picture of these phrases and how some don’t mean exactly what they appear to.”
“I’m not following,” Lola said.