Page 104 of Revels on an Angel’s Grave

Her heart beat faster at that one.

“Yes, but also this section.” Myrella pointed to a paragraph in the middle of the page, then dragged her notes closer to Emmeline.

“Selucro e santu, reliquam,” Emmeline read aloud.

“It’s another of those phrases repeated again and again, but this one is often in conjunction with Angel or Valyrie explicitly. I assumed it’s a reference to a sanctuary to worship the Angel.”

“Santu, sanctuary. It makes sense.”

“Yes,” Myrella agreed. “But it wasn’t lining up with what I thought the rest meant. So, I started to look at it differently. What if the stuff above that isn’t about sanctuaries, but the darker side of their coin.”

“How does that connect to poisons?”

“I don’t think that’s a direct correlation. I do think there’s a sanctuary that’s important, but it got me thinking about the broader picture of these phrases and how some don’t mean exactly what they appear to.”

“I’m not following,” Lola said.

“That’s how I landed at poisons.” Myrella pointed to the top of the page. “We know the first portion of this scroll is about the duels. There’s enough evidence to draw that conclusion. But the second”—Emmeline scanned the words as Myrella explained, familiar names jumping out at her—“none of them are exact, but the bell-shaped killer hath wrenched another death.”

“Bell-shaped killer,” Emmeline repeated. “Aconite.”

Myrella nodded, practically glowing. “And around it, these other phrases are descriptions of plants. And all these speak of killers, venom, lethality.” Now that Myrella had unlocked that one translation and Emmeline knew what to look for, the other codes were more obvious.

“If they’d named the flowers, we probably could have figured it out days ago, but whoever wrote this had to get poetic with it.” As the Fates always did.

“What about poisons, though?” Lola asked.

Emmeline scanned the page again, her skin buzzing as she understood. “Rocarri keeps saying this isn’t only a tournament of brawn, but brains, as well. Perhaps the second trial is meant to test their cleverness.”

Lola beamed. “Roremar will stand a chance, then. He’s smarter than all those men combined.”

“Does he know anything of poisons?” Emmeline asked Lola. “He’ll have to be very careful.”

With poisons, one wrong move spelled death. This could be more lethal than the duels, the only weapons one’s own mind.

But that was all Roremar would need.

“We have two days to prepare him,” Lola said. “I’ll pull all the books I can find. Write to Desmond and tell him you’ve found something.” Nodding determinedly, she shoved her chair back and flitted through the adjacent door leading into the manor’s library, Eston following her.

“I’m going to grab a few more research books on languages,” Myrella said, hurrying after Lola.

And as Emmeline scrawled a note to Desmond, dashing over to the mystlight lantern atop the mantle and tossing it in, something very dangerous dared to bloom in her chest: Hope.

Before she could squash it, she chanced too close to the lavender incense lingering from Lola’s session. Pouncing when she least expected it, the Fates captured her.

The plane swam into view with starfire burning at the edges, but it was as alive and realistic as it had been when she spoke to Serchus the other day, all colors more vibrant and landscapes complete.

Different than during her joint reading with Desmond.

As if drawn from watercolors dropped into a still pond, the Fate of Secrets and Greed swam into existence before her, reclining high in the tangled, stretching branches of his tree once again.

This time, Serchus didn’t speak to her—he didn’t acknowledge her at all. Resting against the thick tree trunk, the scraggly arms of the branches cradled him. His face tipped toward the sky, feet crossed at the ankles and tapping musically.

It was as if Emmeline was seeing a window into his world. One she shouldn’t have been gifted.

Serchus waved a hand lazily. Overhead, the stars followed his motions in time with the dreary song dripping off his lips, laced with haunting longing and anticipation. Emmeline both wanted to run and lean closer, to feel the vibration of the aching melody against her skin and plug her ears so it couldn’t touch her.

A breath skittered down the back of her neck, and Emmeline jolted, spinning.