Chapter 49 #2
Everyone’s grief over Nico was so unique, so layered. His loss ripped apart different things in each of their lives. Crushing dreams that left them all floundering. That caused her to expose her deepest secrets, sent her to this city to be used, shown off, and manipulated.
And suddenly, that vase in the center of the room was the most appealing thing in the entire Angelsdamned capital. Something she could bend, break, shatter, just as Valyn was trying to do to her.
Emmeline strode forward and swung her mallet over her shoulder. And with the force of every Fate swirling through her, she slammed it into the vase.
Shards of clay scattered everywhere, against her reinforced leathers, over her boots and the tiled floors, the crash deafening. Not waiting, Emmeline brought the weapon down again.
Again and again, she swung.
Again and again, pieces scattered.
And with each strike, her frustration finally had a place to breathe.
She’d felt trapped within these walls for weeks now. Since arriving here. Since realizing how everyone viewed her—wanted to use her.
Coveted.
Desired.
Kept.
But never belonging.
For each word that beat through her, she hit another item, smashed another broken sculpture, until they were in as many pieces as her insides had been shredded to. Until they were as irreparable as the world had made her.
Stay away, or forfeit his life.
The louder you scream, the less others will believe you.
Emmeline beat each threat into dust in the sculpture graveyard.
With each swing, a part of her mind cleared, liberated from the weight of this society, bit by broken bit.
Emmeline spun around, grabbing a small clay vase from the shelf and tossing it at her feet. But when it hit the marble and shattered into a dozen starlike shards, a cloud of smoke filled the air, twisting with peaches and amber so potent it immediately sucked her into a reading.
The hammer tumbled from her hand, clattering to the floor as she blinked her eyes open on the plane between realms.
And Myrella stood next to her.
She blinked at Emmeline, hair whipping around her as she twirled in a circle, flickering starfire flames dancing across the shiny locks. “What’s going on?”
“That last vase,” Emmeline said, understanding. “I think it held an old stash of herbs. They must have steeped in there for so long, they’re stronger than normal. When I shattered it, they were exposed, and it pulled us into a reading.”
“But why are we both here?” Myrella asked.
“I don’t know,” Emmeline muttered. Overhead, the stars winked and swirled, drifting through the sky as if untethered. “Another joint reading.”
“Like with Desmond,” Myrella inferred.
Emmeline hummed in agreement, transfixed with the stars. Their movements accelerated, forging and breaking constellations above, falling into lines and shapes. Some shone brighter than the rest, twinkling like celestial landmarks.
Almost like—
“It’s a map,” Emmeline whispered.
“What do you mean?”
The stars moved faster, and Myrella jolted, stepping closer.
Emmeline felt it then. A soft vibration in the air, a wave of ether stringing her magic to Myrella’s. She could practically see a ripple rolling off her, a tangible piece of magic to latch on to. It was powerful in a different way than Desmond’s had been, one that Emmeline couldn’t quite place.
When she stepped closer to it, the stars sped, slotting into place in the celestial map above. Emmeline tried to keep track of each constellation as it landed.
“It’s not a map of a city,” Myrella guessed.
“No, it’s not.” Anphrosia’s Mirror was connected to Arenothos’s Helm, Aevollon’s Sunserpent, and Dryvius’s Panther, all by thin silver threads. “It’s a star map.”
A unique one, possibly forged for this moment exactly.
“It’s all connected, right?” Emmeline explained as more constellations formed above. “That’s what Roremar and I discovered on Lyra. Everything to do with the murders, with the disappearances and the Fates—it was all connected. I bet everything in this city is, too.”
The words she’d heard on repeat since arriving in Valyn played through her memory.
A fortune spun by Fated hands,
A choice taken from forsaken bands.
Two hearts staked through with malice.
Star’s Reign and Star’s Ruin.
This was Emmeline’s map, her fortune spun. Like she’d built on the wall of her dressing chamber, but from another angle. Everything the Fates had told her so far and everything she was building before them now.
“Anphrosia connects to Arenothos, Aevollon, and Dryvius,” Myrella said, following Emmeline’s theory.
Two more symbols assembled. One, a snake swallowing its own tail shaped from tiny, pinprick stars, the base of a sigil they both knew so well. The second was a single shooting star, looping around itself.
“Fate Bound Seekers. The Lyra sigil. Falliare and Rocarri.” Emmeline’s pulse pounded as a line of stars stretched between the two. “They’re connected.”
The circular shooting star reflected in Myrella’s eyes as her attention shifted to Emmeline. “You said the Fate Bound Seekers had notes on star maps?”
Emmeline swallowed. “Extensive research on when constellations aligned historically, and the legends tied to each. Sacred bonds.”
For Him to fall, and Her to bleed.
Remedy a past scorned daring, and cross with bloodied footsteps faring.
Bonds do forge,
Intended yet scorned.
Forced not wanted,
Sacrifices born haunted.
It always came back to the bonding—to the hand Rocarri wanted to force.
To the tether she was currently burying deep.
“Or…” Emmeline’s heart stilled as she traced the line between the symbols representing Falliare and Rocarri. “What if it’s rituals, not bonds? Whatever Falliare is doing and the Fate Bound Seekers. They’re working together.”
Emmeline had suspected both Rocarri and Falliare of working with Dryvius independently—the Temple Master through the murders and the Chancellor through the tournament. Maybe she’d been right, but the collusion ran even deeper.
The stars overhead stuttered in their incomplete map, constellations pulsing on the horizon.
“It’s like they’re stuck,” Myrella observed.
Emmeline tried to siphon the power rippling from Myrella to command the stars. They wavered in the distance, longing in their waning light.
She pulled harder, tugging at all her Fate ties—at Myrella’s magic, too. Glass shattered, and Myrella gasped, but the far-off constellations only vibrated as if pounding on a barrier.
“We need more,” Emmeline said.
“More?”
“More magic. The joint readings, they’re unveiling something. The two I’ve been taken into—unintentional as they were—have given us steps forward.”
“So, you want Desmond, too?”
“Not just him.” An idea sprouted in her mind, and though it was reckless, she couldn’t help her grin. “We need to think much larger.”