Chapter 34
Chapter Thirty-Four
Emmeline
“You’re certainly not letting him off easy.
” Emmeline laughed as she and Myrella patrolled the corridors of Lyra Temple Academy after her tutoring sessions wrapped the next evening.
She’d been imploring Myrella for details of what had happened with Nico in the Mourning Gardens, trying to distract her mind from the endless string of theories.
Apparently Nico had showed up at Myrella’s door as her last lesson of the day was ending, six bouquets in hand—each a different shade of yellow because it reminded him of her—and Myrella had deemed them all adequate.
“Why should I? He did lie to me.”
“You’re right,” Emmeline conceded. “How did he manage to get this far in swaying you anyway?”
“He told me the full story of why he lied, for starters,” Myrella confessed. She didn’t elaborate, and Emmeline didn’t pry. “Then, before I’d even fallen asleep when we returned to Lyra, he sent me a letter with Mystique ink.”
“A letter?” They rounded the corner into the main foyer of the Academy, the dining hall on one side and the library on the other.
Loud chatter echoed from the former, students congregating inside since the curfew no longer allowed them out after sundown.
Guards had been doubled around the Temple Academy to ensure it.
“A lot of letters, actually.” Myrella blushed. “An envelope thick enough that he couldn’t possibly have written them all that night, each one dated between when we met and now. He said he wanted to send them when he first wrote them, but he couldn’t lie to me more, so he kept them for himself.”
“And the letters convinced you to give him a chance?” Emmeline asked.
“They convinced me that he was telling the truth. That he…felt what I had that night and lied because he saw no other option.” Her eyes shone, and Emmeline had no doubt that the initial connection had been powerful.
“Truthfully, the letters only make him more convincing because they’re so honest. More like diary entries. ”
Emmeline propped herself on one of the stone benches carved into the wall outside the library, the view of the doors into the outer courtyard making it the perfect spot to wait for the inevitable students trying to sneak out.
Where much of Lyra had been spooked into submission by the escalation of murders, the students didn’t seem to find it quite as dire locked atop the hill.
Some saw it as a challenge, one student’s stubbornness earlier tonight reminding her immediately of Roremar when she dragged him back to his dormitory with extra readings assigned to keep him busy.
She tried not to think of the reckless warrior now, though. Every time she had since Alvan, her skin flushed and an ache throbbed in her core at the memory of his voice: I have been looking at you for longer than I care to admit.
Fear wound through her. Fear because she didn’t want him to look too close but also because Roremar thrilled her in a way no one ever had, and she couldn’t become reliant on that. On him.
Endless ruin.
And she had greater priorities. She hadn’t slept at all the past two nights since Alvan, thoughts of every student tied to Anphrosia racing through her mind. She held her breath each day until they walked into her classroom, despite the extra guards on rotation.
The killer had gotten in before.
“So you’ll forgive him?” Emmeline asked to distract herself.
“Not so easily,” Myrella said, taking the seat beside her. “Trust takes time to repair once it’s broken, but he’s taking it in stride.” Her soft smile told Emmeline that Nico being patient only won Myrella over more.
“Why don’t you just tell him what flowers you like?” Emmeline suggested.
“Because I’m nothing if not determined.” Nico’s voice flooded the corridor as he exited the tall wooden doors to the library, the mystlight chandelier above haloing him. A few lingering children whispered about Miss Corvus’s new friend as he flashed Myrella a sheepish smile. “Irises?”
“No,” Myrella told him, fighting a smile.
“Dammit.”
“Still here, Nico?” Emmeline teased.
“Rore asked me to keep you two company until he could return.”
“Sure.” Emmeline nodded. “You’re here for your brother.”
“I’m here for my brother,” Nico swore dutifully, though he was watching Myrella as if he’d be happy to never look away again.
“What were you reading?” Emmeline eyed the book tucked beneath his other arm.
Nico flipped it in his hand, holding it out to her. Skies of the Fates: A comprehensive guide to constellations of the ages. “I was searching for the symbols the people in the Mourning Gardens were drawing.”
After Myrella had heard his apology, they had found a few Starsearchers drawing chalk constellations on rocks in the depths of the gardens.
They’d been well into whatever they were smoking, incense flooding the space, so Myrella and Nico took everything they said warily, but when Myrella showed them the insignia of the Warders of Selene, they’d immediately backed away.
Of course, none of their explanations were coherent, but Myrella made note of the reaction and the other drawings.
If they’d recognized the symbol—even if they hadn’t known what it meant—maybe there was something to uncover in the rest of their musings.
“Find anything?” Emmeline asked Nico.
Discouraged, he shook his head. “A lot of what they were drawing was just warped versions of constellations of the eleven living Fates—almost like they were broken. I’ve been refreshing my memory about the meaning of each, trying to see if there are any places where the associated stories tie back to Anphrosia, but it feels like a loose connection. ”
“There probably wasn’t much rationale to it based on how intoxicated they were,” Myrella agreed.
Sourness flooded Emmeline’s stomach as she chewed over those words, and she gazed into the courtyard and the temple beyond. The stained-glass windows on the second-floor painted stories of the Fates over the stones.
“The quiet the last few days unsettles me,” Emmeline admitted on a low whisper as a group of sixth-year girls wandered by. “It’s only a matter of time…”
A matter of time until someone else is killed.
From the way Myrella’s lips rolled together and Nico swallowed, they understood what she meant. Fear wound through her at the undeniable fact. If they didn’t find the person responsible for these deaths soon, another victim would turn up.
She couldn’t shake the Storytellers from her mind as she watched the students disappear around the corner.
Who would fall next?
“Can I borrow this?” Emmeline asked, flipping through the pages of Skies of the Fates, and Nico nodded.
Slapping footsteps padded quickly up the hall, speeding around Nico and stopping before Emmeline. “Miss DeLeoste?”
“Yes, Brynn?” Emmeline surveyed the boy standing with his hip popped and feigning as much disinterest as possible, though his cheeks were red from running here.
“The Temple Master’s secretary asked me to give you this,” he panted.
The moment Emmeline took the paper from Brynn’s small hand, he was gone, racing back through the corridor, barely slowing when Emmeline and Myrella both called warnings after him.
“You’d think these children were on fire from how they run,” Emmeline muttered, rolling her eyes. But when her attention dropped to the seal on the letter, she froze.
“What is it?” Myrella asked. Her dark hair gleamed in the mystlight as she shifted closer.
Emmeline tilted the wax toward the lantern flickering overhead. “Is that a phoenix?”
Myrella leaned over the page, her expressive eyes widening. She gripped Nico’s hand, pulling him over and despite the intensity thrumming between them, Nico looked elated.
“What is it?” he asked.
“It’s a phoenix and wisteria sigil,” Emmeline reiterated, more confident this time. “And a hound stamped beneath it.”
The faint ink shone as she held it under the mystlight for Nico to see. His jaw popped open, and he leaned closer, arm looping around Myrella. “The War Master of Alvan?” he whispered.
“I wrote to her again as soon as we got back to Lyra,” Emmeline admitted, shame creeping up her throat for having kept the secret.
“I didn’t think she would even read it, but Roremar said he needed an entire day—possibly two—before meeting with Falliare and the Accords would take even longer.
I figured it couldn’t hurt. I didn’t—” She faltered, blinking rapidly.
“I didn’t think she’d answer this quickly. ”
Truthfully, she hadn’t expected her to answer at all. Let alone with a letter this weighty. The envelope had to hold a dozen sheets of parchment.
“Open it!” Myrella encouraged, clearly not deterred by Emmeline’s secrecy. Nico nodded, and an unfamiliar tightness squeezed Emmeline’s chest at their support.
Carefully, she pried open the envelope, pulling out the first page. She was right—there were many. Charts and lists, star maps and records. A handwritten note topped them.
Miss DeLeoste,
I appreciate your emphatic follow up to the initial inquiry. Though typically I request correspondents wait at least a week before pushing, I see how this circumstance cannot be postponed.
I have granted the Accords permission to attach details on Alvan Starsearchers who are aligned with Arenothos or Aevollon, history of organized illicit worship, ship logs, and anything else that may be of interest to your case.
I do hope it is helpful, and please ensure word is given to our isle when this has been resolved. We will be increasing our patrols of Alvan Isle Guard as long as seen fit.
Signed,
Enya Yorren
War Master, Isle of Alvan
A dramatic, looping signature followed the neatly scrawled title, and Emmeline blinked at it a few times before it registered. She’d truly been given aid. This stranger had offered to help based on her word alone. Her eyes stung at the weight of the papers in her hands.
Though her magic was always valued at the Temple Academy, she hadn’t been prepared for the rush of emotion this level of trust would bring. Hadn’t realized the need to be heard in a world where she’d fought to make herself invisible.
Her fingers trembled with it as she flicked through the pages, scanning them all briefly. A wealth of information. This had to have some sort of relevance to the case. Why else would the Fates provide it?
The first few sheets were ship records followed by a historic account of trade between Lyra and Alvan. Next came an appendix of myths, rituals, and sacrifices that may be of interest to research.
Finally, she got to the list of Fate ties from the Alvan Accords. The top page bore only a dozen names, listed alphabetically. Her attention snagged near the top, and her heart stalled.
No.
No.
She willed it not to be true, but the facts were inked before her.
“By the Fates’ fucking spirits,” she swore as her breathing turned choppy.
She tore from the building before Myrella and Nico could ask why.