Page 246 of Revels on an Angel’s Grave

“And you?” Rian asked.

Roremar turned to Emmeline.

He could already see the stubborn set of her mouth, the challenge in her eyes, the argument she was ready to spring at him if he tried to make her leave.

“You in, Huntress?” he asked.

Emmeline lifted her chin, so regal in that damn dress. “Always.”

Roremar glanced to Cirre at the entrance, her tail swishing patiently. Her intense stare said she wasn’t leaving either.

He turned back to his allies. “Go on without us. We have unfinished business here.”

He’d find Dryvius tonight. Even if it killed him.

“Hey, lovebirds!” Desmond’s voice echoed back through the cavern, dread sinking into Roremar’s gut.

He whipped toward the exit his friend had disappeared through, nerves spiking. Des walked back into the cavern with Myrella and Eston, Lola still cradled to his chest and expression burning.

“Don’t think any of us are getting out this way after all,” Des growled.

Tension framed Roremar’s muscles. “What do you mean?”

But Desmond didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. Because Balmour Rocarri strode into the cavern. With Falliare on his heels.

Chapter Eighty-Two

Emmeline

Roremar’s fury boiled down the Fatesworn bond, potent enough to cut through whatever was suppressing it. Emmeline inhaled sharply as it struck. She couldn’t blame him, though. Not after he’d told her Falliare had kill his father.

“What are you doing here?” Roremar spat at his uncle as they emerged in the mouth of the expansive cave, both men dressed in their rich clothing from the masquerade still.

“He’s my guest,” Rocarri interrupted. “He’s been so helpful in my experiments lately, I thought it was apt he be here for this.”

His experiments. The rituals Falliare was monitoring. They weren’t to do with Fatalium or recreating Dryvius’s murders.

They were at the instruction of the Chancellor and the Fate Bound Seekers. Emmeline had known thanks to her joint readings that Rocarri and Falliare were working together, but she hadn’t known how or why.

Was Falliare helping the Chancellor research how to create a Fate from this tournament?

“Rore,” Des said, Lola still draped in his arms, “what’s going on?”

“Why don’t you tell me what you’ve done to my niece, Mr. Alvanti?” Falliare asked.

“Don’t act like you care!” Roremar barked. Emmeline’s chest ripped in two with the ragged sound of his voice. The sting of betrayal. “You don’t give a damn about any of us. Not me, not Lola, not your own sister, for Fate’s sake! So don’t even fucking look at my family after what you did to us.”

“What did he do?” Desmond stiffened, but turned slightly, as if to shield Lola from her uncle. She seemed even more pale. Fates, they had to get her out of here. There were enough of them that they could probably take Rocarri and Falliare even with Roremar being injured, but she wasn’t sure whose loyalty they could count on other than Desmond and Myrella.

And her magic was rushing through her veins, faster by the minute, distracting her.

“He killed my father and framed me for it,” Roremar deadpanned, as if he had no more emotion for the revelation.

“Arenothos’s fucking forge,” Desmond said. He shifted further away from the exit, carrying Lola toward her brother and Emmeline.

“Are you here because I ran?” Emmeline asked Rocarri, very aware that four people in this cavern were active participants in his ongoing trial, each currently facing their own trauma.

“I’m here because of both of you,” Rocarri said, his tone haughty as he looked between her and Roremar.