Page 56 of Revels on an Angel’s Grave

Falliare left them to clean up their mess, sweeping back up the aisle and out the front door without another word.

Desmond spotted Myrella across the rafters through the fog and nodded for her to come back.

Once in the yard behind the sanctuary, the starlight peeking through the cypher branches illuminating her wide eyes flooded with terror, Myrella asked, “Do you have any idea what he’s up to?”

She clutched her satchel tighter as if trying to pull the answer from the stone carving inside.

“Not a Fatesdamned clue,” Desmond admitted. “But it clearly isn’t good.”

“They have a list of different combinations written down. Incense, I think,” Myrella explained as they made their way through the shadows in the opposite direction Falliare had gone. “I could see it on the benches from where I was standing, but I couldn’t read it.”

“Pairings,” Desmond repeated. “And there were symbols on the man’s chest.”

What in the fucking realms had the Temple Master gotten himself involved in?

Chapter Twenty

Emmeline

Emmeline’s mind was entirely rattled from her interaction with Roremar. Every emotion she’d been suppressing had sprung to the surface—every ounce of need for him, every drop of desperation, and every bead of concern. Every truth she’d wanted to let pour forward plagued her as she and Alana—Lola—returned to the manor in silence.

Stay in line, Emmeline.

Tonight gave me a reason to win.

Fates, she was torn. She wanted him safe. Alive. And she didn’t want to burden him any further, either with the truth of Rocarri’s threats or proximity to her.

In order for him to have the freedom he deserved, she had to prove his innocence. Somehow.

The vow echoed through her as they made it back to the quiet manor.

Apparently, Eston was the one who had escorted Roremar from the barracks—a favor due to his infatuation with Alana—and he’d given Graves the night off so she and Emmeline could return unquestioned.

Whether Rocarri knew they’d left, Emmeline didn’t care, so long as he didn’t know where they went. The threat of his eyes burrowed into Emmeline’s spine as she stood on her balcony, a thick blanket wrapped around her shoulders.

Who was out there, right now, watching her? What would they see?

Alana grabbed a tray of herbal tea from the kitchen and joined her. For a while, Emmeline spoke to the stars about her fears, begging them for some semblance of direction as she traced star maps in charcoal, but the night was unnervingly quiet in return. She overlooked the orange groves and terracotta tiled roofs beyond, an ache sprouting in her heart, widened by the longing for a jungle view and crashing ocean waves.

For Lyra.

For Roremar.

Finally, she turned to Alana—Lola.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Emmeline asked.

“Would you have believed me?” She tilted her head, raven hair sliding over a shoulder.

Emmeline studied her for a long moment—the precise shade of her eyes, the tilt to her lips, the curious blinks. “You have Nico’s eyes,” Emmeline whispered, the words a knife in her chest. Alana inhaled sharply. “And Siena makes a lot of the same emotive facial expressions as you.”

“You know Siena, too?” Alana whispered.

Emmeline nodded. “Roremar took me to meet them all on her birthday.”

Saying his name aloud felt different than thinking it these past few days. Now that he was here and she knew his sister had been the one befriending her, everything was more real.

Alana wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “My mother didn’t mention in her letters. Not with…well, everything went wrong shortly after that.”