Page 219 of Revels on an Angel’s Grave

How had everything gone so wrong?

Only hours ago, she’d been declaring her love to Roremar and swearing they’d fight for one another when this event began tomorrow.

They were supposed to have a few more hours.

Emmeline burst into her suite, scouring everything for a sign that Dryvius had been here, too. That he’d searched her things, her notes. Nothing was disturbed—not even the Endasi scroll or the theories pinned up in her dressing chamber.

No, the Fate of Chaos and Revelry only wanted Lola.

Her bed chamber was in utter disarray when Desmond and Myrella crashed inside. Desmond had Roremar’s sword on his back and a heavy bag in his arms that Emmeline had forgotten she’d asked Myrella to track down before the masquerade. It felt like a lifetime ago.

“I found one,” her friend said, as Desmond handed Emmeline the bag. Worry widened her eyes. “Desmond said Lola and Roremar are both missing.”

“The third trial—it’s starting now.” Emmeline ducked into her dressing chamber, calling through the cracked door, “All of the competitors vanished. We have to get to the arena.”

“What about Lola?” Desmond argued. “That note said we only have until midnight.”

Emmeline froze, hands fisting on the gown she was pulling from the bag.

Midnight.

And then Dryvius would…

“Why midnight?” Myrella asked.

Desmond snapped, “No idea, but how the fuck are we supposed to find her and help Roremar in his third task all at once?”

Emmeline forced herself to keep moving, slipping into the gown. “We split up. Desmond, you go after Lola. Take Eston with you.” It said enough about Desmond’s worry that he didn’t complain about being paired with the guard. “Myrella, you come with me. We’ll go to the arena with Graves.”

“That’s a waste of time,” Desmond ordered.

Dress in place, Emmeline poked her head around the door and waved Myrella over to tie the corset. “We don’t know what this trial entails, but Rocarri will have to make some kind of speech to the public given the surprise. Every bit of information helps. Plus, if I’m not there, that will only cause us more problems.”

“What if we can’t save them both?” Myrella’s lips twisted with concern as she laced Emmeline in tight enough that the strapless dress wouldn’t budge. It wasn’t made to her specifications, but it fit well enough, and she couldn’t care less tonight.

“That’s not an option.”

Emmeline strode to the mirror and assessed her reflection, the message she would send. She pulled Roremar’s ring from beneath the neck of her dress and set it against the crimson fabric, feeling for the Fatesworn tether within her.

A dull, sleepily beating heart answered, but any words she tried to send were stalled, as if moving through tar.

“We won’t be losing either of them tonight,” Emmeline swore, fingers locking around that ring. She spun to face Myrella. “Agree?”

Myrella nodded, determination in her stern expression.

Desmond strode into the dressing chamber and looked Emmeline up and down approvingly. “Agreed. And excellent choice.”

Chapter Seventy-Two

Emmeline

“You’re sure about this?” Myrella asked Emmeline as they stood in the corridor outside Rocarri’s private box in the arena.

The crowd was already roaring, those of them who weren’t entirely disturbed by Rocarri’s tournament having been celebrating the eve of the final trial when the call went out. She had a sneaking suspicion that had been the Chancellor’s plan. If his citizens were too intoxicated, they would forget any concerns with the morality of this facade.

She wouldn’t, though.

She wouldn’t forget the worried expressions of the families when their loved ones disappeared without a goodbye or how Roremar’s siblings and Chrysta had looked to her for help.