Page 160 of Revels on an Angel’s Grave

“What do you mean?”

“I know how she feels for you, but I suppose I underestimated her. I thought you two were a team, thought she’d repeat all my words right to you.”

She hadn’t told Roremar a Fatesdamned thing about what was going on.

Rocarri added, “Then, I could count on you to do what must be done. But it appears she’s been deceiving all of us.”

Roremar’s blood pounded through his veins, but he didn’t say a word. Didn’t tip that he had no Fatesforsaken clue what the Chancellor was talking about.

His mind was gathering the pieces, slotting them together, little notches clicking into place as the puzzle formed before him.

No.

Fates, how didn’t he see it? The one thing that would stand between them—the reason he kept telling himself he should leave her alone—was the need to save the other.

And a rock sank in Roremar’s gut as Rocarri confirmed, “I told Emmeline that if she wants you to live, she must let you go.”

Chapter Fifty-Two

Emmeline

It had been a mistake to let Roremar so close. His touch was a phantom on her body, addictive as she walked away. Every part of her ached for more. She had a feeling if she dropped the reins entirely, she’d never be sated.

“Are you okay?” Perry’s voice sliced through her internal debate.

They were approaching the competitors’ tent, the sun dipping behind the grapevines in the distance and painting the sky in streaks of oranges and pinks.

“Yes,” Emmeline assured him, tucking away all lust-driven thoughts of Roremar. Fates, she could still feel his grip on her thighs.

“Here,” Perry said, pulling her to a table inside the back entrance and grabbing them each a glass of wine. “Steady yourself. Get back into your act.”

She took a long sip of the crisp white blend. “Why are you helping us?”

“I told you before,” Perry said, lifting his glass to his lips.

Emmeline squinted at him. “No, you didn’t.” She placed a hand on his arm, pulling his attention to her. “You’ve alluded to your curiosities about the Constellation Isles, but you’ve said nothing else, yet you continue to ally with Roremar and help us sneak around.”

Could they really trust him?

Perry hadn’t necessarily done anything to warrant her suspicion, but she’d been wary of him since the Presentation. He was the leading competitor in the Races, the favored among those who scorned Roremar, and she was almost positive someone in the competition was working directly with the Chancellor.

Perry’s family had wealth and a notable reputation thanks to their mining projects. Who was to say he wasn’t the plant she suspected?

When they danced at the Presentation, Perry swore he didn’t want to win, but there were other ways to put a knife in her back.

“Now’s not the time to speak of it,” Perry said, gaze flicking around the crowd rather than meeting her eye. The knot in her gut thickened, her magic perking up when he leaned closer. “Tonight, I think you need to find your friend. I tried to keep an eye on her when you went off with Devinli, but she’s flighty every time I approach.”

All suspicion fled Emmeline’s mind. Her attention snapped to the tables littering the space, quickly dragging over every face in search of Myrella. “Where is she?”

Perry gestured to the corner, and Emmeline’s gaze landed on her, gold-threaded gown standing out. Myrella waved, and Emmeline released a breath when she saw Graves was still beside her.

Before leaving, Emmeline turned back to Perry. “I want the truth next time I see you.”

“Of course.” Perry nodded to her. “Have a wonderful evening, Miss DeLeoste.”

“What was that about?” Myrella asked when Emmeline met her.

“I asked him why he’s helping Roremar and me,” Emmeline explained.