Page 37 of Revels on an Angel’s Grave

It was cowardly, getting to abandon it all, but perhaps whoever had thrown him in here had done him a favor after all.

He’d be dying without the answers his missing memories desperately sought, but he had to take the opportunity.

Two warriors collided before him, neither fighting with any finesse, but they were fairly matched. Distracted by one another. Another gift of the Fates, he supposed. Giving him the chance to do what he must.

Roremar threw his bloodied blade to the dirt, a cloud of dust puffing up around it.

Hand shaking, he unhooked the buckles on one vambrace then the other. The ink of his sigil tattoos was bold as his sleeves slipped up his arms, and he silently said goodbye to the siblings they represented.

The aged, shoddy armor landed on top of his weapon, the scrape of metal against metal loud in his ears despite the roaring crowd.

Swallowing, Roremar unhooked the weapons belt he’d been given, the spaulder protecting his shoulder next. Before he removed his helmet, his gaze lifted above the men dueling around him, and he truly looked at the crowd for the first time.

At their hungry expressions.

At their array of colorful flags and streamers.

At a box jutting out from the third tier of seats above the battle, framed in silver pennants and shaded by an awning so he couldn’t make out anyone’s faces. Except one pair of eyes he knew so well.

Through the narrow slit of his visor, his entire world froze.

The clashes of battle, the screams of the dying, the taunts of the crowds…it all faded. Despite the distance, his vision tunneled in on those hazel eyes. Nothing else existed, no one around her more than a blur.

His heart started pounding. He’d sworn the thing was pummeled with Nico’s death, but now, it went wild with desire and selfish will, really beating for the first time in weeks, a string tied around it thrumming as he saw Emmeline DeLeoste. Dressed to the fucking stars with tears fighting to roll down her cheeks and utter torment on her face.

A switch within his mind snapped. His entire focus, his reason for existing, was now Emmeline. How to wipe that look from her face, how to feel her in his arms. How to kill anyone that stood between them. Blood on his hands be damned, he’d bathe in it if it meant a moment with her again.

And with his eyes on Emmeline’s, Roremar came back to life.

He didn’t know how—how they’d ended up here, what anything around him meant, or what the purpose of this damn fight was—but he knew one thing. Emmeline DeLeoste was watching him with a pleading, terrified look in her shocked eyes. Begging him to survive.

Now I won’t rest until I get you back.

That’s what he’d promised her. He’d broken so many promises, many he couldn’t even remember, but seeing how she looked at him, he didn’t give a damn what the Fates had planned for him today. They could be added to his list of kills, as well.

At the thought, helmet covering his face, Roremar grinned for the first time in weeks.

Then, armor still littering the ground around his feet, he swiped his sword from the dust and kicked the other rusted pieces aside.

And he did what was perhaps one of the most reckless acts he’d committed to date: He fought to get back to Emmeline DeLeoste.

Chapter Fourteen

Emmeline

He’d seen her.

She knew in her bones he’d seen her, standing atop this platform like some pious creature overlooking the bloodshed below.

And it had changed his entire drive. Did he even know what he was fighting for?

She’d nearly lost her composure as he dropped his weapons, his armor. She’d nearly screamed out for him to stop, had felt the call ringing down her bones and Fate ties. But he’d seen her, and without a word, he was tearing through opponents with a vigor she’d never seen before.

Blood splattered his body, rained on the earth with each swipe of his blade. But he moved without remorse, slaying anyone who stood in his way.

Though she didn’t understand it—didn’t know how his devotion could be so steadfast when she only promised death to those around her—Emmeline knew he would never give up on her if he had a chance. He’d crawl through all the fiery realms and challenge the Fates for her.

Now, that devotion forged into determination as his single nicked sword sang effortlessly through the air.