Page 245 of Revels on an Angel’s Grave

“Of course.”

Cirre bound toward the exit, pausing at the mouth of the cavern to let Desmond pass with Lola and Myrella, Eston following. As he watched them go, his chest tight, he prayed his sister would be okay.

The panther’s jade-green eyes tracked each person, flicking back to Roremar and Emmeline lingering in the center of the chamber.

“How did you find her?” Emmeline asked.

“I didn’t.”

Something else he was adding to the long list of mysteries to figure out after this trial.

He took in Emmeline’s appearance. “What are you wearing, Huntress?”

“A dress,” she said plainly.

Roremar stepped back. “I can see that. It’s a little different than your usual, though.” He met her gaze, a soft caress coming from her end of the Fatesworn bond. “The color?”

“I was tired of pretending I’m not yours,” Emmeline said.

She’d chosen him, publicly and vibrantly. Not with a secret bond, but in a display to the entire city that laid ownership to her. Emmeline had chosen him, adorned in the reason they all hated him. Loud enough for the whole territory to hear.

After weeks of him being scorned and a lifetime’s worth of blame on his shoulders, after years of thinking he didn’t deserve good and so many days trying to convince himself to say goodbye to her—Emmeline chose to belong with him.

“Fucking Fates, I love you,” he sighed, hauling her lips to his.

The Fatesworn bond went wild when they met, as insatiable as before. He was sure high above Valyn, the stars were racing for them.

Pulling back, Roremar looked around the cavern. “Do you know where we are?”

“I saw it in my reading in Valyrie’s seeing chamber. She said a lot of places in the capital have been lost to time. I think this is one of them. And I think…” Emmeline’s brow pinched as if trying to form her theory. “The places that have been lost like this and the seeing chamber, the original locations of the Races that no one knows of anymore, they all make a constellation of sorts. Like the history of Valyn is one big star map.”

Roremar blew out a rough breath. He couldn’t begin to figure out what that meant. His gaze dropped to the floor, and he finally realized what symbol they stood at the head of.

A Warder Mark.

Here, too? How?

Roremar’s head snapped up, finding Perry still hounding Rian with attempts to escape as the latter inspected the monuments closer. Roremar called Perry over, gesturing to the mark on the ground.

“I learned something tonight, too,” Roremar began as Perry approached.

“Good to see you, Emmeline.” Without another word of explanation, Perry started taking off what was left of his shirt.

Emmeline blinked. “I understand you’re happy to see me, but⁠—”

“Em,” Roremar said, and her attention flitted to him. Under different circumstances, Roremar would have laughed at her uncertain expression, but now he wrapped his good arm around her. “Look at him closer.”

Emmeline leaned forward, squinting as Perry turned toward the candlelight. And her eyes widened.

“What in the Fates?” she blurted.

Roremar and Perry explained what they knew of the symbol being a mark of Fate magic being used. When they finished, Emmeline looked like she had a thousand theories on the tip of her tongue, all spinning over everything she’d learned about the Warders of Selene and why the marks kept appearing around her, if it was connected to her sister and the Temple of Selene somehow.

Giving her a moment to collect her thoughts, Roremar turned to his allies. “You three finishing this trial?”

Perry laughed, eyeing Roremar’s grip on Emmeline. “Seems like the tournament is pointless. You already won.”

Roremar kissed the back of Emmeline’s hand. “This part was never up for debate. But the Chancellor has other plans. Whatever his goal is, the trial isn’t over. You can all keep going if you’d like.”