Chapter 29
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Emmeline
“Lola,” Emmeline gasped as cries and shock echoed from the shoving crowd. She whirled, finding a pair of stricken blue eyes locked on the body. An elbow slammed into Emmeline’s ribs, but she repeated, “Lola!”
Lola’s attention snapped to hers.
“Get to Roremar!” Emmeline instructed. “Make sure he’s okay!”
“Are you out of your fucking mind?” Desmond growled, bracing his wide stance and pulling Lola and Myrella in front of him to stop them from getting shoved. Graves and Eston surrounded them, facing out and hands on their weapons. “She’s not going anywhere alone! None of us are.”
“He’s right,” Graves tossed over his shoulder.
“She can’t stay here,” Emmeline argued. “She’s tied to Anphrosia. And someone needs to make sure Roremar is okay, too. They’re going to think he did this.”
Desmond growled, “You think the killer is going to hang around here? This is the safest place for her.”
“Dryvius—or someone recreating his ritual, or someone he’s using—isn’t a normal person, Desmond. Their mind is twisted. I saw it in those murders.” She scanned the crowd of hysterical expressions. “I absolutely think whoever did this will be watching it unfold.”
“She shouldn’t be alone, though,” Myrella agreed with Desmond, who was muttering to Lola.
“I’ll go,” Lola decided, silencing Desmond with a tense look Emmeline couldn’t quite read. “The barracks have a heavy guard. I’ll be safe there.”
Desmond’s jaw ground as he held her stare, finally conceding. “Stay on lit streets and don’t leave the barracks alone. Take one of the fools with you,” he added as an afterthought, waving at Graves and Eston.
“I’ll go with her.” Eston nodded over his shoulder, obviously too quickly for Desmond’s liking based on his squinted evaluation of the guard.
He said to Graves, “You go.”
Eston scowled, but Graves looked at Emmeline, shoving away a man who stumbled into them without breaking eye contact. “I take orders from you, not him.”
“Go with her, Graves,” Emmeline said. She had no patience for the men’s power games right now. To Lola she added, “Be careful.”
“Of course,” Lola said, and they were swallowed up by the masses.
Desmond’s jaw ticked as he watched her go, but he didn’t follow.
Emmeline took a deep breath, grabbing Myrella’s hand and shoving through the crowd. “Come on, we need a better look.”
Valyn City Guard had already arrived and was clearing the scene, forcing the onlookers behind a boundary line. Perry of all people was standing at the front of it, along with another competitor who, Emmeline thought, was named Khasson.
“Emmeline,” Perry said grimly. “Are you okay?”
“Fine,” Emmeline said, blinking up at the scene, then back to Perry. “What are you doing here?”
She still wasn’t entirely on board with his proposed alliance.
He always seemed to be where she was, almost as if he were watching her a little too closely.
While that could be justified by wanting to work with her—and whatever interest he’d expressed in the Constellation Isles—that attention scratched against her skin.
Had Rocarri asked him to watch her? He was the favored competitor, after all.
Perry nodded at the man beside him who couldn’t pull his stare from the body. “We had a meeting with the Governors.”
“Guess we won’t be getting that drink on our way home,” Khasson said, finally looking over Emmeline, Desmond, and Myrella. Curiosity flashed through his stare, gone so quickly she thought she imagined it.
“Might need it now more than ever,” Perry said, eyes flicking to Emmeline. “Will you be okay?”
“I’ll be fine.”
Perry dropped his voice. “You know who they’re going to blame for this.”
“I’m aware,” Emmeline snapped. “Go get your drink and let us handle this.”
Perry held up his hands, about to argue, but Khasson squeezed his shoulder. One corner of his lips curled, a probing stare on Emmeline that, for reasons she wasn’t quite sure of, had chills dancing down her spine.
“Noted. Let me know if you need anything,” Perry said, and the two left.
As he disappeared into the crowd, Emmeline couldn’t help the suspicion twisting through her gut.
Shaking it off, she stepped up to the roped off boundary beside Desmond and Myrella. Many people were backing away from the gruesome scene, but Valyn City Guard roamed the steps before the temple.
“Do you know how they compare to Isle Guard?” Desmond whispered, hand fisting on the rope.
“From what I hear, they’re no more competent, but have larger numbers.” She kept her voice low so Eston wouldn’t hear, not wanting to offend him personally.
Desmond grunted. “More of a nuisance then.”
“Yes, but—oh. Cyren!” Emmeline called as she spotted the General standing at the base of the Temple talking to warriors dressed in the regalia of the City Guard, the Starsearcher’s eleven-starred symbol on their cloaks.
Cyren looked over, waving a hand to signal them to cross the boundary.
“Thanks for letting us through,” Emmeline said.
“Thank the Fates, Emmeline. I think you have a lot more experience with this situation than I do, unfortunately.” Face ashen, Cyren nodded at Eston and introduced themself to Desmond and Myrella. “What were you all doing here?”
“Alana got us into the Archives today,” Emmeline explained, but she didn’t add what they’d been researching.
“We heard the scream,” Myrella added in a voice that sounded so much younger than her twenty-three years. Her round eyes were locked on the puddle of blood on the stone steps. The body had been taken inside by members of Valyn City Guard, but the scarred facade remained.
“May we?” Emmeline asked Cyren.
The General nodded, stepping back and directing the soldiers to do the same.
A small crowd lingered nearby, likely to see what gossip they could gather.
Their eyes burrowed into Emmeline’s back as she stepped closer to the scene.
To the window the woman had deliberately been dropped over.
One of twelve, eleven of which had candles burning behind them.
All but the last, a panther she’d stood below just days ago and cursed Dryvius’s name.
Swallowing her resentment, she turned to the display of the murder.
“Is that who I think it is?” Emmeline whispered to Desmond and Myrella, hoping one of them would deny it.
But they both whispered, “Anphrosia.”
The windows weren’t the sigils, nor were they depictions of the Fates, but the symbols made it clear who each represented, and the one where the body had been left bore a veiled, silhouetted bust in the center of the stained glass, crimson wings now stretching out on either side of it.
Emmeline squinted up at them. It was hard to tell from so far below, but it almost looked as if the wings were carved into the stone itself.
Before she could get a closer look, a City Guard exited the temple, his silver uniform smudged with red. Insignia forgotten, Emmeline hurried to him, not bothering with pleasantries.
“Her throat was slit, correct?” Emmeline asked.
The man jolted, clearly lost in his thoughts. His face was pale, brows scrunching together as he realized who she was. Finally, a perk of being the darling they all revered.
“It was.”
Emmeline’s chest tightened, but she forced herself to ask, “And did she have…any tattoos?”
“We haven’t done a full evaluation of the deceased’s body.”
“You wouldn’t need to look far.” Numbness slipped over her with every word, taking her back to each individual victim. She tapped her sternum. “It would be here. On display.”
His lips thinned. “There was something, yes. We haven’t inspected if it’s new or not, and it was partially obscured by the remains of her clothing, but it seemed like a sun or a star of some kind.”
A star of some kind. Like the crooked, twelve-pointed ones Dryvius had inked.
Desmond swore, Myrella releasing a low whimper.
“I need to check the towers.” Emmeline attempted to brush past the guard, but he extended an arm to stop her.
“Afraid I can’t let you up there.”
“But I—sir, I worked a recent murder case, the one the Chancellor has spoken of. The victims had the exact same markings. I need to see if there are any similarities—anything the killer may have left behind.”
“I know who you are, Miss, but I can’t permit civilians to enter this building,” he said.
Emmeline’s jaw popped open. “I’m not any regular civilian, though. I was brought here by the Chancellor—I’ve done this before!”
“You may be the Chancellor’s guest, but that doesn’t matter here.”
What good was the reverence everyone forced upon her if she couldn’t even use it for this benefit? To help them catch a dangerous criminal.
No, they wanted her to be a pious figure, not do anything worthwhile. What she’d done on Lyra meant nothing to them beyond the potential of her magic.
“Come on, Mare,” Eston attempted to reason with the guard on her behalf, but the man—Mare, apparently—shut him down quickly, threatening rank. And Cyren had disappeared to ensure the family of the victim was found.
“I’m sorry, Miss, I am,” Mare said, though he didn’t sound all that sorry. “But we’re waiting on instructions from my command before we allow anyone in.”
Emmeline sighed, biting her tongue. A woman had died. That was the important thing here. “Can you at least tell me if you found anything in the tower she was hung from? Any incense?”
“There was, yes. We have yet to identify it.”
Her head swam. She didn’t need anyone to identify it. Emmeline knew in her bones it was the same flower grown on Lyra. Knew it was the same incense and purpose.
But how had it gotten here?
How had all of this happened here?
“Thank you for the little help you’ve provided,” Emmeline snapped, turning to leave.
Eyes and whispers followed her as she traipsed away, but she didn’t look at any of them.
Emmeline kept her gaze lifted as the lingering warriors parted.
Let them spread whatever rumors they wanted to about her, she didn’t care.
“We should get away from this area,” Desmond said, eyeing the remaining crowd. Eston nodded in agreement.