Page 168 of Revels on an Angel’s Grave

Ruin them both.

Her will was fraying more each day.

That confession must have been enough to pierce Roremar’s resolve. His hands landed on her waist as if keeping her from disappearing at his next words. Her heart ran wild at his touch.

Thumbs brushing circles over her ribs, he said, “Rocarri paid me a visit today. He told me about your little deal.”

Shock rocked through her. Her hands fisted in his tunic to keep from falling over. “Deal?”

“That he threatened you. Told you to stay in line—to be their example, their prize—if you wanted me to stay alive.” His hands tightened, and despite how wrong his words were—how much she shouldn’t want him to be revealing her deceit—it felt so right for him to know.

She should have guessed Roremar Silventa would always uncover her secrets.

“That’s why you’ve been pushing me away, isn’t it?” Challenge flared in his voice, daring her to deny it. “Why you wouldn’t look at me after I was stabbed. You think it’s your fault. You think someone saw us together and attacked me to knock out the threat. That by staying away from me, you’re saving my life. That’s why you said you don’t want this. Because the Chancellor, the Angel, this entire Fatesdamned clan has you at their beck and call, and they’re using my life as leverage, aren’t they?”

She didn’t answer him, just sank her teeth into her bottom lip. His stare followed the motion, every place his eyes touched burning. Breathing labored, he tugged her lip free.

“That’s what’s going on here, isn’t it, Huntress?” he repeated.

“Yes.” She could barely hear the word over her own heart pounding, but freedom spread wings in her chest to finally say it.

She knew Roremar wasn’t surprised by her answer, yet his heartbreak was palpable. It was metallic on her tongue, a sting in the back of her eyes. His face showed every crumbling emotion, and each knocked her down.

Softly, he asked, “Why do you let them control you?”

“Because it’s the only option I have.”

“It’s not.” He shook his head, dark waves bouncing across his brow. His hand slid to her cheek. “You’re so much stronger than them. They want you. Desire is power, Emmeline.”

“And I’m using it in the only way I know how. In trying to out manipulate them.” The words tumbled from her like the waterfall rumbling beyond the trees. Finally, finally, laying it all out before him. “It makes so much sense when I’m here with you, why everything they’re doing is unfair, but when I’m actually facing it, it’s overwhelming. The people, their intentions, and whom they can hurt if I’m not malleable. The way my magic destroys everyone it touches, yet they all want it so badly. I’m so used to hiding—to only having to fend for myself and follow my own will—but all my defenses have been ripped away. I’ve never been so on display.”

His hand tightened on her waist, each explanation of how used she really was making his jaw tick. “Fight them, Em.”

“I don’t know how! I worked to get to Valyn Temple Academy for years, and now I’m in the city in a way I never imagined. I’m not an instructor, I’m a prisoner. I’m supposed to be looking for my sister, and I’ve barely found anything because I’m watched at every turn, and the Fates will tell me nothing. And everyone thinks I belong to them!”

She groaned, head tilting back to the impossibly tall trees, their woven canopy spinning. Another cage.

Roremar’s hand slipped to the back of her neck, tilting her gaze back to his and stilling her world. “Listen to me, Em.” He paused, waiting for her to focus on his steel eyes. “Listen to me,” he repeated, much softer, voice blending with the falls, thumb brushing rhythmically over her pulse point. “You don’t belong to them. You belong to no one, okay? Not even me.”

“I want to belong,” she said in a small broken whisper that felt as monumental as the cracking of realms.

It pulled at her chest, those words Rocarri had claimed after the first trial. That sort of power belongs here. In Valyn, where she could be used but her magic wouldn’t hurt anyone else she loved.

“I know.” Roremar nodded. And Emmeline knew it was true. He really did feel every bleeding piece of her. “You don’t belong to anyone, though. Not even me. You belong with me, not to me.”

He’d told her as much before. Tucked away in the apartment above Fated Ink, when they had no idea what fortune awaited them. How they would be pulled apart in a tragic star-crossed tale; how they might fight their way back together.

But the darkest tragedies often spun the most beautiful stories, and theirs was the most heart wrenching of all.

Exhausted, Emmeline leaned her forehead against Roremar’s chest, his fingers stroking down her spine.

“Stop trying to save me, Emmeline,” he whispered against her hair. “I’ve been dying slowly every day since I killed my father. Quicker since Nico. Stop taking these moments that we could be together. Let us enjoy them while we have them.”

She squeezed her eyes tight.

“I can’t do that,” Emmeline argued into his chest, voice wavering.

“Why?”