Page 164 of Revels on an Angel’s Grave

Two lovers’ hearts united.

Eleven forms burned brighter, brighter. Until her eyes watered and a ringing echoed through her ears. Water rushed. Glass shattered again and again. And somewhere, a woman screamed.

As pressure barreled down on her, Emmeline released the reins and snapped back into the present, falling onto her hands and knees.

Her very bones trembled with the magic tunneling through her body, skin sweaty and enflamed.

“Feathers and falls,” she forced out over quivering breaths.

And the world swayed into twilit darkness.

Chapter Fifty-Three

Roremar

“You what?” Roremar growled, Rocarri’s words echoing in his ears. “You threatened Emmeline? With me?”

“Not directly.”

Roremar pushed off the bars and stepped closer to the Chancellor, entering the cell. “Seems like a pretty poor threat since I’m already meant to die. What with the murders I’m being accused of and the men in the tournament who want to kill me.”

“Trust me, I’ve told her it’s the will of the Fates. She doesn’t see it that way.” Rocarri placed a hand on Roremar’s shoulder and pressed him back, turning them so he could step around him toward the door. “Miss DeLeoste still believes in you. Fates only know why, but I have my suspicions. And I’m curious enough about them that I won’t push the Fates further if she stays in line. But the other competitors?” He tutted. “I’ve made it clear to her that if she favors you, she’s only killing you faster.”

She was pushing him away, allowing Rocarri to manipulate her and control her future, to save his life. Not because he’d ruin her or they weren’t good together or she didn’t want him. Not because she needed her new status to find her sister.

But to save him.

How hadn’t he seen it earlier?

Because it was the one thing Roremar never thought was worth it—his life. He didn’t think his survival was even on the table. He’d accepted his death long before he was thrown into the arena.

No matter how much he swore to everyone that he was trying—and he was—there was still that part of him that didn’t see how he could move on.

But anger churned through him, too. Anger at the Chancellor, punctuated by frustration with Emmeline.

She should have told him.

It sacrificed both of them. It ruined both of them. They should face it together, no matter what Rocarri threatened them with.

“I see you have a lot to consider,” Rocarri said from outside the bars.

Why was he telling Roremar all of this now? What was he getting out of the turmoil? Was it as simple as drawing a line between him and Emmeline, influencing Roremar to fully let her go?

He didn’t voice those questions. They’d be exposing too much. But as the Chancellor left, not bothering to shut the door to the cell, Roremar called, “Why don’t you kill me and be done with it?”

The Chancellor looked back, the light from the end of the hall shadowing his features. “If you still think I want you dead, you aren’t as smart as you seem, Reckless.”

When Rocarri’s footsteps faded, Roremar sank against the wall. Thanks to the Chancellor’s mockery and schemes, he’d walked right back into this cage. Only this time, Balmour Rocarri didn’t lock the door.

Roremar did that all on his own.

Emmeline really was trying to save him. She’d promised she would, but in his grief, he hadn’t realized how far she’d go. He’d thought he’d lost her for good.

If people knew what she was doing, it would ruin her. They’d sing songs of her death the way they did his. She’d never find her sister.

“No,” Roremar swore.

No, he wouldn’t let that happen.