Page 225 of Revels on an Angel’s Grave

“And Aevollon?” Valyrie interrupted. “I could tell there were two, but he—I would not have expected that pairing.”

She didn’t seem surprised about Arenothos, but Desmond was boiling right now. Perhaps she could sense his wrath, and that tie was more prevalent.

Arenothos’s fucking forge, how was this the priority?

“Now that we’ve covered that, can we get back to the more important topic? You know something about Lola.”

Eston’s attention shifted to the Angel, and the two men stared hungrily at her. Thank the Fates the fucker finally got his head on straight.

“There is a place I believe he may have taken her, but it is based on nothing more than speculation and historical context, no evidence of fortune.”

“Tell me,” Desmond rushed out at the same time Eston asked, “Where?”

Desperation made his throat scratchy. He’d take any hint at this point. Something to get him closer to her.

Valyrie’s wings fluttered softly at her back, almost as if she was reluctant to share. “There is a place beneath the earth.”

“Like the catacombs Roremar and Emmeline found?”

“Catacombs?” Eston blurted. Fates, never mind what Desmond thought a moment ago, this man was a fucking hinderance.

“Yes,” Valyrie said.

Eston whistled, but Desmond continued to ignore him. “They said those things cross all over the city. Do you have any specific area?”

“Yes, but where is the Realmspinner? That is why I am really here.”

“What’s a Realmspinner?” Eston asked.

The term was vaguely familiar. Desmond had heard Emmeline say it before. He thought back, trying to force himself not to be so jittery.

“That’s one of the cults Emmeline found in her research, right?” She’d mentioned it a few times, both when they were trying to prove Roremar’s innocence back on Lyra and since arriving in Valyn. “It used to exist on Lyra?”

“A cult?” Valyrie asked, genuine surprise in her navy eyes. “No. No, a Realmspinner is not a cult.”

“That’s what Emmeline said. She said it’s one of the cults they thought Dryvius’s victims were connected to. Or that he was connected to.” Desmond shook his head. “I don’t know, she has a lot of theories and books, I can never keep them straight. What does this have to do with Lola?”

Valyrie’s eyes fogged over for long, agonizing seconds that had Desmond twisting the leather band around his wrist until he thought he’d cut off his blood circulation.

“Oh, no,” Valyrie finally said. She shook her head, the reading slipping away as quickly as it came. “No, you do not have that right at all. We will find Lola—your fortunes are about to become rapidly and messily entwined with one another—but we need to find the Realmspinner. As quickly as possible.”

Chapter Seventy-Four

Roremar

Roremar’s tongue was cotton in his mouth, his eyelids hard to pry open. Each blink took monumental effort.

Where in the realms was he? What had happened?

Cool dirt was beneath him, flickering dots of fire blurry in the distance.

The last thing he remembered⁠—

Lola.

A bolt of lightning shot through his veins at the thought of his sister. He flopped onto his back, the world spinning as he tried to catalogue his surroundings.

Cracked ceilings and walls draped in patches of moss and algae. Reinforcement beams every few yards. Fire flickering down the way, casting shadows over the dirt floors. Silver candelabras secured to the weathered stone. Everything with an odd purple film over it.