Page 167 of Revels on an Angel’s Grave

“Good luck,” Myrella whispered to Emmeline. Her heart warmed a little with the gentle squeeze of her hand.

“Thanks,” Emmeline said before turning to follow Roremar down the overgrown path.

Despite his silence, he still stopped to hold vines out of her way, clearing the crooked dirt path of fallen branches with his sword, which Desmond had returned to him for the evening, the dark gems gobbling up what starlight slipped between the trees.

Of course, he watched her even though he was angry; he always ensured she was taken care of. But it didn’t help her decipher why he’d barely said a word the entire ride out here.

Once it was an acceptable time for them to sneak away from the vineyard, Desmond had disappeared to get Roremar from the cells while Emmeline raced back to the manor with Myrella and Lola—the latter asserting she could cover for them with her guards tonight, a fact that had Desmond’s jaw popping incessantly.

Emmeline had insisted she and Roremar needed this space, but she fidgeted at the stiff silence. She hadn’t realized how it would feel when he finally listened.

“I don’t know what we’ll find out here,” she confessed as they climbed the sloped terrain, parting the overgrown jungle carefully.

“Seems like vague direction is all we should ever expect from the Fates,” Roremar said, tone more gruff than usual. It twisted her chest.

Emmeline sighed. “Appears so.”

The roar of the falls mounted as they climbed through the jungle brush. Emmeline tried to focus on the vines snaking the path, on keeping her feet from knotting in their gnarled reach, and not on Roremar’s breath at her back, but she could practically feel his heartbeat in her own chest. Frustration and desperation pinched her lungs.

And it was the combination that finally had her asking, “What happened tonight?”

“Hm?” he hummed, the noise nearly lost in the rumble of the waterfalls beyond the tree line.

She halted, turning to look up at him. Roremar stopped so close, the flat grey of his eyes was clear.

“What happened since I saw you earlier?” Earlier, when he would have fucked her right there where anyone could have seen if she’d asked him to. Where he let her walk away, though he’d sworn days ago he’d never give up.

A vow she hadn’t realized she’d been holding on to like a lifeline. Now, it slipped through her fingers.

Roremar pursed his lips. “Maybe I took your word for it.”

“What?” Her heart shattered, each piece piercing something vital. Her blood seeped between her ribs, filling her lungs. She struggled to breathe over it.

A part of her had been so certain he wouldn’t believe her, that maybe there was some way, some twist of Fate, in which she could keep him after all.

Because as much as it scared her—as much as she ran from it—they were bigger than this. Bigger than the stars.

Roremar huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “You’d be more convincing if you tried to hide your devastation, Huntress.”

She straightened. “What’s that mean?”

Roremar stepped forward, so close his thigh brushed hers, forcing her head to tip back to see him. “Maybe I finally listened. You admitted you don’t want me, right? Perhaps after all these weeks, I’m finally doing what you wish and leaving you alone.”

Her mind raced.

Now I’ll stop at nothing to get you back.

Those words—all the promises he’d made her—were seared in her memory. Their truths were woven through her magic. And Roremar was always true to his word, even when it hurt.

Emmeline narrowed her eyes. “You’re lying.”

“Do you want me to be?” A challenging quirk of his brow, and she was transported back to Lyra. To a time before everything had gone so wrong when they were dancing around this thing between them.

No, she should say. But a part of her—the part that had let him in back on the isles—was so tired of lying. “I don’t know.”

It wasn’t entirely untrue. She was torn into pieces by this fucking game they were stuck playing.

Save his life.