Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
Emmeline
“Oh, thank the Fates you’re all right!” Myrella gasped when Emmeline tracked her down at dinner a few days following the attack. She jumped out of her seat, looping her arms around Emmeline in an embrace that wasn’t entirely unwelcome, even if she did flinch at first.
She’s your friend.
“I’m okay,” Emmeline assured her. Physically, she was at least. But a lump formed in her throat, her shoulders hiking up to her ears with every soft shuffle behind her.
The bruising was fading at least, and with a silk scarf wrapped loosely around her neck, she and Roremar decided it was safe to return to the Academy.
Though, she did wait until the dinner hour was nearly over and only Myrella remained in the hall, tables scattered throughout and a buffet-style food bar on one side.
Beneath the scraps of mess left behind by the students, the wooden surfaces gleamed in the mystlight chandeliers above.
“I wanted to come back on my own first,” Emmeline told Myrella when she pulled back, and her friend nodded in understanding.
She’d wanted to walk the halls, feel the air and hear the reliable noises of the Academy before having to stand in front of a class.
To face how it all looked different through this altered perspective.
What had once been a gateway to her freedom and a sanctuary was now coated in broken glass and brutal fists, her throat tightening around every corner. She’d wanted—needed—to feel it all.
And she’d wanted to see Myrella. Emmeline released a shaking breath, focusing on her now.
“I heard you were there that night,” she said as they sat. “I wanted to thank you.”
Myrella’s concern was piercing as she gripped Emmeline’s hand. And this—this kinship and the comfort derived of it—was so foreign to her, but she embraced it.
“Of course,” Myrella said. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there sooner. I didn’t hear anything until that new sparring instructor came running down the halls.”
The sun was setting beyond the tall windows at the front of the dining hall, the pinks and purples turning Myrella’s brown eyes even softer somehow.
“Roremar,” Emmeline clarified. “He and I are…working together.”
“Oh?” Myrella straightened, her full lips splitting into a grin.
Emmeline managed to laugh, feeling lighter already. “You already knew.”
“Everyone knows who he is.” Myrella shrugged, her enthusiasm radiating off her so vividly, it was hard for Emmeline not to feel it. “And everyone has seen you two together. Though if you want to call it work…” Her voice trilled up at the end, teasing.
“It’s not that sort of partnership.” Emmeline laughed. But even as the denial rolled off her tongue, heat flared beneath her skin.
“Are you sure?” Myrella prodded. “Some of the instructors have a bit of a wager going on it.”
Emmeline’s jaw dropped. “What?”
“Oh, yes. It’s been so fun gambling over when you’d be caught by the Temple Master, how long the affair would last. There’s a number of different categories.”
“There is no affair.” Her cheeks flushed.
Myrella frowned, cocking her head to the side. The twinkle in her eye said she didn’t miss how Emmeline blushed. “Can I at least pretend you didn’t tell me that? The games have been so entertaining.”
And again, Emmeline couldn’t help but smile, biting her lip. “Do whatever you all want. But I did have something about Roremar that I wanted to discuss.”
She’d agonized over this all day yesterday, but Roremar had Nico and Desmond who knew about the case, despite one of them being Emmeline’s prime suspect. Why couldn’t she have a confidant as well? A…friend.
And who better than the woman who’d come for her when no one else in the Academy had?
Myrella turned fully toward her, wide attentive eyes relieving any reservations Emmeline had. With the dining hall blessedly empty, she told her everything.
About her and Roremar working together, about the murders and cults and tattoos.
Myrella knew some of it already given that the isle was under a curfew and there was a general air of unease around the mysterious deaths, but to find out Emmeline was involved in the hunt and what evidence they’d gathered so far shocked the girl into silence.
She left out that Desmond was her lead suspect currently. She had to tell Roremar that before anyone else, and she didn’t have enough evidence yet to make a case she was confident in.
When she was done, Myrella’s eyes were so wide, Emmeline feared she may have broken her. She answered all her questions as best she could, and Myrella declared, “I’ll help.”
“What?” Emmeline’s jaw dropped. “That’s not why I told you.”
But Myrella insisted, “Let me help you.” She dropped her voice, though no one was around. “It will only be easier with more of us, right?”
Reluctance twisted Emmeline’s stomach, blood and starfire flashing beyond her vision. Fear streaked through her, a need to protect Myrella—the only instructor in the Academy who came for her during the attack—when she hadn’t been able to protect so many others.
What is wrong with me, Emmy?
Emmeline shook her head. “It’s not your job, Myrella.”
“It doesn’t need to be my job for me to want to help.”
That was a problem with the world. Too many people only wanted to face the issues that were their job.
Too many were willing to turn a blind eye unless it affected them directly.
Even Emmeline had been coerced into solving this case by the Temple Master, though she liked to think she would have cared regardless.
Not Myrella, though. She was selfless, authenticity bubbling out of her very being.
That level of openness scared Emmeline.
“You saw what happened to me a few nights ago, though. That was because of this.” Somehow, though Emmeline hadn’t figured out how yet.
Myrella’s jaw quivered, but she set it. “And I want to be a part of it.”
“Why?” Emmeline asked.
Myrella gripped her hand. “Because you’re my friend, Emmeline. And while I can tell Roremar is a great partner for this—that he cares for you—you deserve more help. To not face all of it alone.”
The words had her throat closing. It was a sentiment she hadn’t realized she needed, another woman to stand at her side in the face of these deaths.
Myrella’s overly expressive eyes hardened with resolve as she waited, every emotion flitting across her face carrying the weight of the world.
She was always like that—feeling and expressing everything in a way that made the whole realm feel it, too.
But now, this desperation pierced down to Emmeline’s spirit.
“Please, Emmeline,” Myrella whispered. “You’re not the only one that wants to see this person caught.”
The weight beneath those words crushed Emmeline’s chest. She paused to see if Myrella would explain why it was so important to her. But when she only pressed her lips together, it was clear those secrets were too personal.
And Emmeline may be new to friendship, but she knew when not to pry.
She squeezed Myrella’s hand. “I’d love to have your help.” Only after she relented, did Emmeline realize the glaring issue. Wincing, she added, “But you should know Roremar’s brother is also involved.”
“His brother?” Myrella asked, dark hair sliding across her shoulder as she tilted her head.
“Nico?” Emmeline winced.
“Oh.” Myrella blinked rapidly. “That’s fine. I can deal with him.” Hurt twisted that sentence, a scar clearly fresh enough to sting.
“What happened?” Emmeline asked. “Nico seems like a sweet guy from what I’ve seen.”
“Yes, well, I thought the same until I learned he lied.”
“Lied?” Emmeline balked. Perhaps Nico was more like Roremar than she’d thought, containing some nefarious streak. “When did you even meet?”
“A few weeks ago. We had fun, but at the end of the night he told me he was leaving in the morning and wouldn’t be back for a long time—that nothing could happen between us because of that, despite the clear attraction.
” Rejection stung her voice, but her cheeks turned rosy, and Emmeline had the feeling there was more she wasn’t saying.
“So imagine my surprise when I found him standing in our corridor, looking for all the Fates like he’d never left Lyra. ”
The pieces clicked together in Emmeline’s memory. “He was the battle-worn soldier the girls were teasing you about?”
She hadn’t even known Nico had fought in a battle. Perhaps that was part of the lie.
“He was.” Hurt rippled through Myrella’s stare, but she turned her nose up, nodding. “That door is certainly closed, but I’d still like to help you.”
Emmeline chewed her lip. Roremar’s voice echoed through her mind, so easily referring to Myrella as her friend. And while she may not have had a true one in years, she tried to master the balance of honesty and support she thought it required.
“Okay,” Emmeline agreed, “but Nico doesn’t strike me as a liar. It may be worth speaking to him about what happened.”
Myrella considered. For all the Fates, it seemed like she was genuinely taking Emmeline’s words to heart. “Maybe.”
That lukewarm sentiment warmed something cold living within Emmeline.
“You go ahead. I’m going to go ask Regina something,” Emmeline said to Myrella as they finally stood from their table. Regina, Liana, and Harttorn had just wandered through the door from the kitchens, cups of tea in hand, and sat themselves at one of the tables in the back corner.
“Write to me when you need me,” Myrella said, giving Emmeline one last squeezing hug.
“I will.”
Crossing to the group, Emmeline steeled herself for the typical pause in conversation. A stunned silence descended.
She fidgeted with her ring until Liana finally exclaimed, “Oh my Fates!” And leaped from her seat, crushing Emmeline in a hug. “How are you? We heard something happened, but Myrella wouldn’t give us any details. That little secret keeper.”
Emmeline was grateful for that. “I’m okay.”