Page 34 of Revels on an Angel’s Grave

Emmeline’s attention whipped to the Chancellor. Skirt swishing around her feet, she stormed to the front of the platform. “What’s happening?”

Rocarri turned to her, and the smile creeping across his face sent a chill down her spine. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it? Better than I expected.”

Better than…

She’d been wrong. It wasn’t surprise in Rocarri’s expression when the fight broke out. It was excitement.

“Beautiful?” Emmeline sneered, wrenching her stare from the Chancellor to the arena as one man shoved his sword into the gut of another and dragged it out through his side. “It’s slaughter.”

“It’s the mercilessness our Angel requires.”

“How can you know that?” Emmeline snapped. “How can Valyrie wish this?”

“The victor of the tournament must be loyal to you, Emmeline. He must be willing to kill any who threaten you or stand between you,” Rocarri explained as if she was daft. As if she was the crazy one here. “That is what Valyrie required of the winners who lined her guard, and that is what your bonded partner must be true to.”

“I do not want a man who will kill unprovoked. Stop this!”

The command in her voice rang around the box, and silence answered. Then, the whispers started among the Chancellor’s guests. Phrases such as unstable and out of line clung to her, her temper simmering beneath the disapproval.

“I’d gather yourself now,” the Chancellor whispered, eyes softening as if he truly cared for her.

She shook her head, staggering back a step. How didn’t they see that this was wrong? How did they agree with Rocarri?

Someone tugged on Emmeline’s hand, and she whirled, meeting Alana’s horrified stare.

“Come on,” Alana whispered, face pale.

She argued, “No, he can’t let this⁠—”

“Emmeline,” Alana warned in a low voice, her eyes flicking to the councillors and District Governors. To the guards lining the back of the platform who may have taken a step closer. “For now.”

And it was the promise in those two words that convinced her. The silent vow to figure this out later and the reminder that she needed to play the game if she wanted to find her sister.

But in that moment, she was certain, she couldn’t be a part of this tournament. No matter how desperate she was, she wouldn’t allow the Chancellor to kill innocent men all to harness her magic. To trade her.

This would end, tonight.

If the tournament continued, if the second and third trials took place, Emmeline would not be the bargaining chip the lives were wagered for.

It would be Rocarri’s own malicious intent.

Taking a deep breath, Emmeline forced herself to face the arena again. To hear the cries, to memorize the shapes of the crimson streaks on the dirt and the unremorseful expressions on the men’s faces.

The original Angel trials were likely just as ruthless, but that was to honor Valyrie. Emmeline…she wasn’t worth this. Her magic, her power, her reputation—none of it was worth the agony below. And now she’d live with thirty lives staining her soul.

All because she was their toy—their property. To be used, coveted, and kept. But why should her feelings about it matter? Rocarri had made it clear in his dismissal she was nothing more than a figurehead. A darling with abundant magic who was overstepping her boundaries.

Unstable. Out of line.

Maybe she was worth dying for, but her opinions did not matter. She stifled every bit of rage and hurt over that refusal.

The silver gates across the arena swung open once more.

“Not more competitors,” Emmeline groaned, horror tight in her chest.

But only one man entered this time—the sixtieth competitor who’d been missing earlier. A rusted helmet covering his face, he stumbled into the arena as if he was in a daze. His attention flicked around the carnage as he pulled his sword.

Did he not know what he was walking into? That was an unkind fate if she’d ever seen one. With how confused he seemed, he’d be killed immediately. Hopefully it was a quick mercy. She’d pray to Valyrie for an easy rest for him.