Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
Emmeline
Emmeline’s mind was entirely rattled from her interaction with Roremar.
Every emotion she’d been suppressing had sprung to the surface—every ounce of need for him, every drop of desperation, and every bead of concern.
Every truth she’d wanted to let pour forward plagued her as she and Alana—Lola—returned to the manor in silence.
Stay in line, Emmeline.
Tonight gave me a reason to win.
Fates, she was torn. She wanted him safe. Alive. And she didn’t want to burden him any further, either with the truth of Rocarri’s threats or proximity to her.
In order for him to have the freedom he deserved, she had to prove his innocence. Somehow.
The vow echoed through her as they made it back to the quiet manor.
Apparently, Eston was the one who had escorted Roremar from the barracks—a favor due to his infatuation with Alana—and he’d given Graves the night off so she and Emmeline could return unquestioned.
Whether Rocarri knew they’d left, Emmeline didn’t care, so long as he didn’t know where they went. The threat of his eyes burrowed into Emmeline’s spine as she stood on her balcony, a thick blanket wrapped around her shoulders.
Who was out there, right now, watching her? What would they see?
Alana grabbed a tray of herbal tea from the kitchen and joined her.
For a while, Emmeline spoke to the stars about her fears, begging them for some semblance of direction as she traced star maps in charcoal, but the night was unnervingly quiet in return.
She overlooked the orange groves and terracotta tiled roofs beyond, an ache sprouting in her heart, widened by the longing for a jungle view and crashing ocean waves.
For Lyra.
For Roremar.
Finally, she turned to Alana—Lola.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Emmeline asked.
“Would you have believed me?” She tilted her head, raven hair sliding over a shoulder.
Emmeline studied her for a long moment—the precise shade of her eyes, the tilt to her lips, the curious blinks. “You have Nico’s eyes,” Emmeline whispered, the words a knife in her chest. Alana inhaled sharply. “And Siena makes a lot of the same emotive facial expressions as you.”
“You know Siena, too?” Alana whispered.
Emmeline nodded. “Roremar took me to meet them all on her birthday.”
Saying his name aloud felt different than thinking it these past few days. Now that he was here and she knew his sister had been the one befriending her, everything was more real.
Alana wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “My mother didn’t mention in her letters. Not with…well, everything went wrong shortly after that.”
“It did,” Emmeline agreed. “Your family is truly special.”
“It is.” She grinned. Fates, it was so much like Siena’s.
“Do you miss them?” Emmeline asked, looking at the stars.
“Every day.”
It was clear from the lingering silence Alana had more complicated feelings around that confession, but she didn’t elaborate, so Emmeline didn’t push.
This was Roremar’s sister. The one he’d been grateful was on the continent because she was tied to the Fate of Cruelty and Adoration like Dryvius’s victims.
“By the way, you may have Nico’s eyes and pieces of the young ones, too, but that scheming tonight? That was all your big brother.”
Lola breathed a watery laugh, pride lifting her lips. “We got into so much trouble as children.”
“I can imagine.” And Emmeline did. She imagined all the Silventas, happy and together. With both of their loving parents and not a care in the world.
And she cursed the Fates for the fortunes bestowed on them, gaze narrowing on the stars.
“Call me Lola, by the way,” Alana said. “It’s not only Roremar’s name for me. It’s everyone who’s family. I switched to my full name on the continent, but… you should call me Lola.”
The sentiment squeezed Emmeline’s throat. Suddenly, she wasn’t just picturing the Silventa family but herself with them, sitting on that beach beneath their home. Myrella and Desmond were there. Nico, too. They were all…happy.
“Okay, Lola.” With the name, Emmeline’s walls crumbled a little more. Not enough to share all her secrets, but a camaraderie formed between the two of them. She took a deep breath, asking, “You know Roremar didn’t do it, right?”
“Of course, I do,” Lola said defensively. “Even before I learned of his Fate tie, I knew something was wrong.”
“Me, too.” Emmeline sketched Dryvius’s arched constellation, the charcoal smearing across the parchment in abrasive, intense strokes.
“I don’t think anyone else here believes he’s innocent, though.
Rocarri thinks Roremar’s in danger from the other competitors.
He said if they see me favoring him, they’ll likely try to take him out quicker. ”
“Fucked Fates. I’ll talk to Eston. His brother is on the barracks rotation. Maybe he can keep an eye out.”
Hopefully that would be enough. Emmeline had a sick feeling it wouldn’t be so easy.
A short while later, they moved back inside, the mystlight brightening as Emmeline’s mind whirled. “I need to find the weak points in Rocarri’s potential council. That’s who I’ll target to see if we can convince anyone of Roremar’s innocence.”
“The Presentation of the surviving contestants is tomorrow night. We can start there,” Lola said, and she hugged Emmeline in what could only be described as a familial way.
“For what it’s worth, I don’t know all the details of what happened between you and my brother, but I know why you went into that seeing chamber.
And I saw the way he looked at you tonight. You’re special to him.”
He’s everything to me.
“I know,” Emmeline said, not bothering to deny it when they’d already poured out so much. Her throat tightened, and she pulled back, tugging her blanket tighter around her shoulders. “That’s what frightens me.”
Pressure weighing on her, Emmeline sighed into the quiet room. Across the bedchamber, a stack of notes waited atop her desk. She crossed and picked up the top slip of paper that had likely appeared before the trial took place. She released a breath at the familiar handwriting.
No news.
Desmond had only given her two words in response to her request about Roremar, but she’d written before she knew he was here.
Resolving to send Desmond an update tomorrow, Emmeline set the letter aside, and inspected what was beneath it.
An aged scroll, no seal or stamp in sight.
The parchment was creased, so delicate she thought it would crumble if she held it too tightly.
“What in all the Fates?” she whispered.
Padding nearer to the mystlight lantern, Emmeline slipped a finger beneath the seal and unrolled it.
“What is that?” Lola asked.
“I don’t know.” Emmeline’s eyes flicked across the faded grey ink. “It’s not in the common tongue, and I don’t recognize the language.”
A chill scurried down her spine. The bedroom door and tall balcony entrances were all locked. There was no indication of who had left it here, but it hadn’t been sent with Desmond’s letter.
Heart pounding, Emmeline scanned the desk again and found another note.
This may help.
Signed,
A friend
The scroll was written in Endasi, the language of the Angels, Emmeline was almost certain.
Not wanting to venture into the manor’s library for fear of extra eyes on her, she’d pulled reference books from her scant shelves.
From what she could determine, this mysterious gift was written in a dead language.
She was tossing and turning, trying to figure out how she’d decipher it when dawn broke, but she had another problem to deal with this morning.
Emmeline pulled herself from bed, slipped into a casual cotton dress, and snuck over her balcony and through the orange groves to avoid Graves, who had the early rotation outside her and Lola’s suites. Emmeline had heard him arrive about an hour before the sun.
Fates bless the grouchy warrior, he took his position seriously.
It only made Emmeline feel a little guilty for sneaking away, but if she timed everything correctly, she’d return before he even noticed she was gone.
She had to take the opportunity of most of Valyn sleeping in to investigate the lead the Fates had given her a couple nights ago regarding her sister.
Seek the riches of nine, and you shall unveil truths.
With the tournament and all it entailed, not to mention Roremar’s arrival, she’d barely had a moment to herself, but she wouldn’t lose sight of the reason she’d fought to get to Valyn all these years, even if she only planned to see her sister from afar.
She fisted her hand, thumb pressing the cold band of her opal ring into her skin.
She’d find her.
The city was quiet as she walked to the Ninth District, misty air clinging to cobbled roads and plant-wrapped stone buildings.
She missed the calls of seagulls and the briny air of Lyra, the gentle rush of the tide early in the morning and the cool sand beneath her feet, but Valyn was a different sort of peaceful when its citizens weren’t picking her apart like carrion.
Still, she kept her hood pulled up, sticking to the streets rather than the rooftops since the sun was up.
Emmeline wove up and down alleys and avenues. Any could have been the ones she saw in her reading the other night. The images had flicked past so rapidly, it was hard to remember the distinguishing features.
The Fates played through her mind as she walked.
A fortune spun by Fated hands,
A choice taken from forsaken bands.
Two hearts staked through with malice.
Were those about her sister, too?
She turned onto a narrow street that sloped upward, a temple waiting at the top with a trio of maroon-robed fanatics drinking wine straight from the bottle outside the overgrown garden.
But their drunken songs and laughter weren’t what had her heart pounding.
There, between an embroidery shop and a perfume maker, sat a tonic boutique. All were dark, but the sign above the latter read Crushing Petals in that same swooping font from her reading.