Page 58 of Revels on an Angel’s Grave

This may help.

Signed,

A friend

The scroll was written in Endasi, the language of the Angels, Emmeline was almost certain. Not wanting to venture into the manor’s library for fear of extra eyes on her, she’d pulled reference books from her scant shelves. From what she could determine, this mysterious gift was written in a dead language.

She was tossing and turning, trying to figure out how she’d decipher it when dawn broke, but she had another problem to deal with this morning.

Emmeline pulled herself from bed, slipped into a casual cotton dress, and snuck over her balcony and through the orange groves to avoid Graves, who had the early rotation outside her and Lola’s suites. Emmeline had heard him arrive about an hour before the sun.

Fates bless the grouchy warrior, he took his position seriously.

It only made Emmeline feel a little guilty for sneaking away, but if she timed everything correctly, she’d return before he even noticed she was gone.

She had to take the opportunity of most of Valyn sleeping in to investigate the lead the Fates had given her a couple nights ago regarding her sister.

Seek the riches of nine, and you shall unveil truths.

With the tournament and all it entailed, not to mention Roremar’s arrival, she’d barely had a moment to herself, but she wouldn’t lose sight of the reason she’d fought to get to Valyn all these years, even if she only planned to see her sister from afar.

She fisted her hand, thumb pressing the cold band of her opal ring into her skin.

She’d find her.

The city was quiet as she walked to the Ninth District, misty air clinging to cobbled roads and plant-wrapped stone buildings. She missed the calls of seagulls and the briny air of Lyra, the gentle rush of the tide early in the morning and the cool sand beneath her feet, but Valyn was a different sort of peaceful when its citizens weren’t picking her apart like carrion.

Still, she kept her hood pulled up, sticking to the streets rather than the rooftops since the sun was up.

Emmeline wove up and down alleys and avenues. Any could have been the ones she saw in her reading the other night. The images had flicked past so rapidly, it was hard to remember the distinguishing features.

The Fates played through her mind as she walked.

A fortune spun by Fated hands,

A choice taken from forsaken bands.

Two hearts staked through with malice.

Were those about her sister, too?

She turned onto a narrow street that sloped upward, a temple waiting at the top with a trio of maroon-robed fanatics drinking wine straight from the bottle outside the overgrown garden.

But their drunken songs and laughter weren’t what had her heart pounding.

There, between an embroidery shop and a perfume maker, sat a tonic boutique. All were dark, but the sign above the latter read Crushing Petals in that same swooping font from her reading.

The scent of orange blossom and rose filtered through Emmeline’s memory as she scampered up to the storefront. She cupped her hands to peer into the rippled glass windows, but she couldn’t make anything out aside from darkened shelves. This had to be the shop from her reading.

The only question remained why?

And how far was she willing to go in daylight? With potential eyes of Rocarri on her at all times?

Nerves shaking, Emmeline tested the door handle. Perhaps the Fates were on her side for once, because the shiny knob turned beneath her hand. She checked over her shoulder to ensure no one was watching. The street was empty aside from a stray cat and that singing trio. All the neighboring establishments and apartments had their shutters latched.

Praying to all her Fate ties she wasn’t making a mistake, Emmeline ducked inside.

When the mystlights ignited, she dimmed them.