Page 20 of Revels on an Angel’s Grave

She had the familiar sense of looking at her surroundings through fogged glass, a bubble created by her magic—one that had set her apart her entire life except, until recently, she’d been the only one aware of it.

Emmeline’s nerves pricked, that very magic forming a defensive wall in her chest as she turned back to the front of the arena.

Rocarri went on as the crowd died down, speaking loftily of the upcoming event and all it would celebrate—legacies, magic, and advancements. Sweat broke out across Emmeline’s neck, her finger tapping her glass in a nervous rhythm.

“Before we begin with the schedule of events, I ask you all to welcome, with the fervor of the Angel, the first twelve of our competitors!”

A line of drums beat ceremoniously from the top row of seats, horns and stringed instruments swelling in a rhythm that reminded Emmeline of the air before a rainstorm.

Before a bubble burst and everything changed for good.

Her sweaty palm slid against her glass as magic shouted in her veins.

Rocarri waved a hand dramatically, and across the arena, between two pillars on the ground level, the gates split open. Chariots raced through, each pulled by an immaculate white horse, silky grey manes braided intricately with tiny silver hoops and stars that reflected the sun.

And atop each cart, stood a warrior.

Based on the way they carried themselves, Percivale Maldano hadn’t been exaggerating when he told her the competitors selected for the tournament were the strongest, cleverest, most capable Valyn—perhaps that the entire territory—had to offer.

Emmeline studied each man as the twelve chariots sped circles around the arena, cheers mounting from every patron in the crowd. Their armor was polished pristinely, the eleven-starred sigil stamped into their chest plates. Capes billowed from their shoulders in glorious silvers and whites, rippling behind them on the wind as they greeted their adoring crowd.

Some waved swords valiantly overhead; a few maintained their serious expressions. All of them were playing a part. Winning over the crowd through charming smiles or brute strength or enticing anonymity.

Leading the herd, a familiar pair of hazel eyes winked up at Emmeline, and suddenly, Perry’s knowledge of the tournament made a lot more sense.

Emmeline leaned low to whisper to Alana. “He was at dinner last night.”

“Who?”

“The one in the front. Percivale Maldano.”

“I’ve heard of that family. They’re influential in Rocarri’s circle. Investors in research on land bordering the mountain range, I believe.” Alana’s fascinated gaze flicked across the group, finding Perry as he tossed a triple dagger overhead and caught it smoothly, unimpeded by the speed of the cart beneath him. “You two were speaking for a while last night.”

There was a question in Alana’s eyes, if Perry had been the true reason Emmeline fled the dinner.

She shook her head. “He was telling me about the tournament. I thought he was sharing rumors, not anything he knew because he’s a participant.”

Emmeline repeated every detail she could recall as the chariots continued their laps.

“Do you recognize any others?” Alana asked.

Emmeline shook her head. Out of the rest of the men, she may have seen a few of them in passing, but there were so many people in the Chancellor’s manor, let alone the entire city, it was difficult to remember each.

The chariots formed a crescent facing their platform, eyes on the Chancellor as he introduced the competitors.

“I’m surprised there’s only twelve,” Alana commented as Rocarri made it to the last in the group. “I thought there’d be more based on how big the tournament has been made out to be.”

“Me, too,” Emmeline answered, nerves rioting in her gut. She squeezed Roremar’s ring beneath her sleeve.

Rocarri called out, “We sought far and wide for each of our contestants. They come from across our territory—some as far as the settlements along the desert border or the foothills of the Mystique Mountains.”

No one from the Constellation Isles, I’m certain, Emmeline added to herself. She vaguely wondered where Rocarri himself was from, and if he’d appointed a competitor from his home city.

“Over the course of the coming weeks, we’ll hold a trio of challenges. They’ll be games of daring, wit, and courage!” A cheer went up for each value Rocarri declared, the crowd’s enthusiasm growing wilder. “Between the trials, we will have numerous celebratory events—everything from parties to performances. You, the public, will be able to mingle with the competitors and place bets on your favorites. All money will be used for restoration projects that have been neglected in our capital over recent years.”

“That’s a good purpose,” Alana said as the crowd thundered.

“Right,” Emmeline muttered, but a thought nagged at the back of her mind. The facade the Chancellor was painting didn’t feel complete.