Page 161 of Revels on an Angel’s Grave

“And?”

“And he’s only given some vague excuse about having interest in the Constellation Isles.” Emmeline watched Perry disappear among the other men, suspicion nagging at her.

“The isles?” Myrella repeated, looking after him, too. Despite Perry’s revelation that Myrella had seemed flighty around him, she didn’t seem unsettled now. At least not more than she’d been all day.

“I don’t know.” Emmeline sighed, banishing Perry from her mind, as well. It was almost time. She dropped her voice. “How’s it going here?”

Myrella’s round eyes lit. “Small portions of each blend of incense are burning around the perimeter of the tent. Graves turned out to be helpful when I told him we wanted to read to let off steam. It’s subtle. I think we got the proportions right.”

“Excellent,” Emmeline exhaled, nodding her thanks to the guard a few feet behind Myrella.

The air wasn’t thick with haze, but she could smell the faint medley of scents mingling on the breeze. See the shoulders loosening, her own magic starting to flicker faster in her veins.

She banished Roremar and his dejected expression from her thoughts to focus on their plan. If she was going to save him, she had to.

“Let’s go find the others.”

“How did it go?” Emmeline asked when they found Desmond and Lola at their designated meeting point in the center of the vineyard.

“Got a few dozen drunks smoking in the eastern quadrant,” Desmond confirmed.

“Higher ranked officials were more challenging,” Lola said, deflating Emmeline’s hope a bit. “I had to place the oil wells very specifically. Desmond helped me distract them so I could use the heavier strains you gave us.”

“Okay,” Emmeline said, mind spinning. The incense they’d exposed over the vineyards clung to her more by the minute. The twining smoky and floral scents sent anticipation buzzing through her. Her magic strained to be unleashed. “Let’s set up further east then.”

They traipsed toward where Desmond indicated he’d passed out the rolls, Graves and Eston remaining at the entrance to the grapevines. As soon as they were a few rows away, the clouds of smoke slammed into Emmeline.

She stumbled, Myrella bracing her. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” Emmeline breathed out. Voices sang through her mind, dozens of fortunes spinning like dancers on a stage. “It’s strong. This is going to work. Come on.”

She slipped her hand into Myrella’s, pulling her down the row. Desmond and Lola were on their heels. They stopped at the end, where the rolling hills of the vineyard stretched beyond Valyn. Lilac skies bathed the scene, spiraling columns of incense reaching up to the stars that hadn’t woken for the night yet.

Warriors frolicked through the fields in pairs and groups, music pounding through the air.

“This spot works,” Emmeline said. Crouching, she pulled vials from her belt and started setting up her reading supplies.

Myrella dropped beside her, removing her own incense, and Desmond lit a roll blended for both Arenothos and Aevollon.

“You sure you’ll be okay?” Desmond asked. When Emmeline looked up, his attention was trained on Lola.

“Yes,” she assured him, voice soft. “I’ll keep watch.”

They’d all agreed it was best if she didn’t read Anphrosia in such a volatile magical environment. Desmond still appeared reluctant to leave her, but he seemed to swallow that argument.

Emmeline and Myrella finished filling her eleven oil wells, the scents already pulling at each of her ties. The Fates whispered in her ears, everything loose thanks to the incense they’d set up around the vineyard.

Hovering, Lola said to Desmond, “Give me the roll once you take a hit, and I’ll extinguish it so the lingering smoke won’t continue to pull you further. That way if something’s wrong, you should be able to snap out of the session quicker.”

Desmond nodded and took a long drag. As he exhaled the smoke, the ashy citrus scent tugged at two of Emmeline’s Fate ties.

“Ready?” Desmond asked, eyes already glazing over.

Myrella nodded. Emmeline counted her wells, rechecked every mixture was correct, and placed a reed in each. “Ready.”

Desmond took a second hit and extended the roll to Lola, fingers lingering on hers as she took it.

Emmeline struck a match, hovering the flame over every stick to release the aromas into the air.