Chapter 20 #3
I wish to tell you the tale, a feminine voice cracked through her mind, and Emmeline knew her immediately.
“Anphrosia,” she whispered mentally, biting her tongue as the reading beat harder at her.
Hello, Reignarria, the Fate of Cruelty and Adoration hummed, a song weaving on the air.
A cold sweat broke out along Emmeline’s skin. She took slow, deep breaths, careful not to utter a sound beneath the trap door.
“What does that mean?” she asked the Fate in the reading.
For Him to fall, and Her to bleed, Anphrosia sing-songed unhelpfully.
“Who?” Emmeline muttered. She wanted to conclude this session quickly to hear what Rocarri was saying overhead, but anger burned through her at that last statement. “If it’s me, I’ve already bled. I’ve given up everything as you told me I would have to, bled every secret, and it didn’t matter.”
And for the first time since coming to Valyn, Emmeline let her fury out. She dove fully into the reading, abandoning the men above.
Silver rained from the sky, falling on the dusty earth and simmering in the heat of the white flames around her. Tears stung her eyes, slipping down her cheeks and searing away. The medley of steam rose, cradling her.
“They’ve made me a prize and an object, and I gave up everything to be here! I can’t truly find my sister, I can’t be with Roremar, so what else can I do? What else can I bleed to make you happy, Anphrosia? Where is the promise this city was supposed to hold?”
Anphrosia’s starry outline appeared in the flames. You are not the first among us. The realms are not born of kindness and fairness. You know this more than most, as do I.
Valyn is built upon the bones of fortune. Do not turn away so quickly, do not rashly deem its adoration of your soul cruel, for you may overlook the most important truths.
A high-pitched laugh cracked among the stars, flames reaching toward Emmeline.
Anphrosia went on, He is lying in wait, but chaos will reveal all soon with the help of his heir.
Chaos.
“Dryvius,” Emmeline guessed, throat dry. And an heir. Someone tied to him. Cold horror sank through her. “He’s going to use Roremar again, isn’t he?”
I cannot speak of him anymore.
“But you just did!” Emmeline raged.
And that is all my tongue may share.
“What about the tournament?” If she could find the right question, perhaps she’d get a fortune she could use.
That future is blocked from my likes, as well.
Emmeline’s heart deflated. She wasn’t able to learn anything about the entire tournament from the Fates? How was that possible?
The thought unsettled her. Fortunes weren’t written in stone, but there was a comfort in them. Now, she’d be operating completely blind as she tried to get Roremar out and, apparently, save him from Dryvius’s manipulation again.
Then, Anphrosia assumed a different, weightier voice, declaring, Remedy a past scorned daring, and cross with bloodied footsteps faring.
Breath shuddered out of Emmeline at the shift in the Fate’s tone. Anphrosia said she couldn’t speak of Dryvius anymore, but perhaps this was to do with him. A past scorned daring could be Roremar, getting revenge on Dryvius for all he’d done, or…
Or it could be the Fate. Why he did this in the first place.
Heat seared Emmeline’s skin, eleven constellations flashing overhead.
And heart pounding, palms tingling, she screamed her next question to their realm, directed at every Fate who dared to seek her. “Can you show me how to clear Roremar’s name? What does Dryvius want?”
A thunder of voices answered, eleven Fated forms wavering beneath each of their constellations as if she’d summoned them.
Tombstones and ribbons of flesh,
Candles and tears spread mourning.
Feathered remnants for reliquary memories,
Seek and be sought, child.
She wasn’t sure which Fate spoke which fortune—if it was all of them or one or some combination—but the words sank into her frame like only the most powerful readings could. Ones written with the prophetic powers of gods and eons of cosmic rites seeming to seep from the earth of Valyn itself.
Her heart pounded at the strength, a searing silver flashing, and Emmeline gasped, snapping back to the realm.
Overhead, Rocarri still spoke to whoever his companion was about what the current wagers in the tournament looked like, but neither seemed aware of her presence.
Incense gently trailed through the hatch, so Emmeline wandered a few feet down the corridor to catch her breath.
Stopping beneath a mystlight lantern welded into the wall, she pulled out her journal, making note of everything from the reading.
Her mind was still spinning when a piece of paper flared to life below the mystlight, slowly wafting to the floor. Emmeline snatched it, unfolding it to find Lola’s neat handwriting.
Graves is looking for you.
“Fates,” Emmeline swore.
She may not have found an answer about her sister today, but she did learn one thing—this city stored secrets where she least expected it. And she had a feeling if she looked closely enough—if she played the game long enough and listened to her Fate ties—she’d be able to find everything she needed.