Page 149 of Revels on an Angel’s Grave

“And we need to put them together today. Tomorrow is that all-day, Fatesdamned vineyard party Rocarri is hosting, and then he’ll have engagements for me and the other competitors every day until the third trial.”

Longingly, Emmeline glanced at the journal tucked against the evidence map. The one containing the Averian’s trade routes and Temple of Selene research she’d had to set aside. The only clue toward her sister.

But if she couldn’t stop this tournament and claim both her freedom and Roremar’s, she’d never have a chance to find Addie anyway.

Lola jumped to her feet, clapping. “We need a fresh perspective. Come on, both of you. I have an idea.”

“What is this place?” Myrella asked as she pushed her hood back from her face. Emmeline’s chest squeezed at the dark shadows rimming her eyes.

Lola had led them to a flat stone building in Forger’s Way in the Tenth District. The walls were lined with old pottery pieces and broken sculptures, like a graveyard of artistry.

Based on the amount of stone monuments in this part of the city, this district was dedicated to Pheasantos, the Fate of Passion and Exile, honored by blacksmiths, artisans, sculptors, and more.

Her conversation with Valyrie on the roof last night came back to her. She couldn’t figure out why the Angel had been so interested in Emmeline realizing the connection between the districts and the Fates when others had, too.

Graves and Eston waited outside under the awning framing the main entrance. The rain was a blessing in one regard, Emmeline had to admit as she shook back her hood, water droplets rolling down the smooth fabric. It kept the streets empty enough that she didn’t think she was recognized on the walk here.

“This used to be a sculpture gallery,” Lola explained, “but the owners have upgraded to a larger space. Before that, it was a pottery and stained-glass studio for academy students.”

“That explains the decor,” Emmeline muttered as she wandered the shelves, stopping before a bust of Anphrosia, a large chip missing from the side of her head and dust coating her veiled features.

“These are all pieces that are no longer usable,” Lola explained as she unclasped her cloak, taking Myrella’s and Emmeline’s and hanging them by the door. “They were either damaged, aged, or unwanted.”

“And we’re here because?” Emmeline asked, still not following.

“Miss Silventa!” a cheery voice called. A woman with high cheekbones and wine-red hair in a silky sheet down her back strode out of a back office. A roll of herbs smoked between her fingertips, the scent of clove and apple heavy on the air, but it didn’t pull at any of Emmeline’s Fate ties. Recreational, she assumed.

The woman approached Lola, kissing both of her cheeks with dramatic smacks. “I’m so happy you’ve returned!”

“You know I always come back to you, Amelia,” Lola said. She wrapped her arm around the woman’s shoulder and turned her toward Emmeline and Myrella. “And I brought friends.”

Recognition lit Amelia’s eye, but she didn’t say anything and Emmeline’s nerves unwound. “Welcome! I’m thrilled you’re here.”

“Thank you.” Emmeline exchanged a puzzled look with Myrella. “But what exactly are we here for?”

Lola smiled that mischievous Silventa grin. “To get our frustration out so we can find answers.”

“We’re going to break them?” Myrella asked in a small voice once Amelia had set them up with mallets, gloves, and glasses, and disappeared back into her office.

A large vase sat in the center of the room, a crack already splitting its side when Amelia took it off the rack for them.

“She has to clear up the shelves anyway,” Lola explained, heaving her mallet over her shoulder, her blue-tinged braid swinging down her back. “I come here when I’m particularly stuck on a piece and need to clear my mind. For other reasons lately, too.”

To be angry, Emmeline understood. To channel that energy somewhere destructive that wouldn’t hurt anyone.

Emmeline’s outlet had always been hunting. Getting predators off the streets to soothe the pain she didn’t know how to handle. Now, with so many eyes on her in this city and the hectic tournament schedule, that method had been taken from her, too.

They were all still for a beat before a laugh bubbled out of Myrella.

She spun toward the shelves, grabbing a statue carved in the shape of a small crumbling stone bridge and threw it to the floor.

Then, she brought her hammer down.

Crying out, she did it again. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she released every bit of her fury, the tainted emotions rolling into the air around her so forcibly, Emmeline nearly started crying, too.

“They took him!” Myrella cried, letting out her grief and frustration one swing at a time. “They involved him in their stupid, unfair rituals, and they took him.”

A choked sob had Emmeline meeting Lola’s eyes, her own cheeks stained with tears as she clutched her mallet.