Page 177 of Revels on an Angel’s Grave

“So, the situation has changed. Maybe the rules should, too.”

“They can’t. We’re friends, and she’s Roremar’s little sister.”

Myrella’s voice broke as she said, “Roremar has lost a lot recently. Seems to me it would be better to have people he loves be happy than enforce their suffering.”

Desmond wasn’t certain about that, though. He knew Roremar wanted his happiness, but protecting his family was his biggest priority. Whatever had brewed between him and Lola over the years had already clearly risked her happiness. He saw her expression outside the manor the other night. The internal debate, the pain, the anger when he kept showing up.

To Roremar, Desmond causing any of that would interfere with his sole goal of protecting his family.

Frustration roared through him, and he jammed the sharp edge of the branch into the dirt, but instead of it sinking into the soft earth, it snapped.

Myrella straightened. “That was odd.”

“It was.”

Slipping off the rock, Desmond dug into the earth. About an inch beneath the surface, his fingers met cool rock. He scooped away the loose-packed dirt on top, exposing shining black stone, an aurora sheen catching the moonlight.

A very familiar aurora.

“This looks a lot like what I saw at the Quarry Lock,” Desmond whispered, already shoveling away more dirt. And like at the Quarry Lock, his head swam. Not as badly this time—it could have been the memory—but his vision wavered slightly.

“Is that the same as the object Falliare bought at the sanctuary?” Myrella asked.

“I think it might be,” Desmond said. “And Roremar’s ring.”

He hadn’t voiced that theory to anyone—he wasn’t certain enough, and they’d been too focused on their vineyard plan, then the falls—but he’d been turning it over in his head since he saw the source. Whatever they were mining at the Quarry Lock was the same thing Falliare was hunting for, the same substance coating Roremar’s ring from his father.

And now, it was out near Wisteria Falls?

Desmond looked back to the rock at his feet, the thick vein stretching toward the trees. About two feet in, the dark stone surfaced, wrapping through the earth in the direction of the waterfalls.

“Tie up the horses, little dreamer,” Desmond said.

And he followed it.

Chapter Fifty-Seven

Roremar

Despite whatever fresh threat this was about Dryvius being freed by Nico’s death, Roremar couldn’t keep the grin from his face as they crept back through the jungle, Cirre slinking at his side.

He and Emmeline had climbed quickly back to where they’d jumped from and redressed, the panther meeting them on the cliff. When he sank to his knees and Cirre placed her head on his shoulder, her fur warm and rumbling purr content against his chest, he nearly lost his composure. He hadn’t realized how badly he’d needed this piece of home.

He had no Fateforsaken clue how she got to the continent or how she found him and Emmeline at Wisteria Falls, but he knew her well enough not to question it. Cirre wasn’t a typical jungle cat, she was intuitive, and that instinct always led her back to him.

Sometimes he wondered if it was because of Dryvius. If the panther could sense the connection to the Fate her species represented; if that was why Cirre chose him, he supposed he had one thing to thank the Fate of Chaos and Revelry for.

The thought soured in his stomach the moment it crossed his mind. The Fate had made him do atrocious things. He had taken his father and his brother, ended their lives at Roremar’s hand.

There was nothing to thank him for.

Dryvius may not have fully died when his constellation was carved from the sky all those centuries ago, but now, as Roremar found those stars peeking through the jungle canopy, he swore he’d be the one to end him.

No matter what it took.

Then let the games begin, shall we?

The brush ruffled ahead, and Roremar tightened his grip on Emmeline’s hand, both of them freezing. Her gaze snapped up to his, and she nodded that she’d heard it, too. As one, they sank into the shadows.