Page 60 of Revels on an Angel’s Grave

“What do you suggest I do?” Rocarri asked.

“Keep on as you have. Allow his attendance in a way that comforts those concerned. You allowed the rest of us to join when many said you shouldn’t, and that turned into an entertaining show. Let the mayhem flourish.”

The rest of us. Were they talking about the tournament? Was this man a competitor?

Fates, if the Chancellor was conspiring with one of them, not only did that have to break some rule in this convoluted game, this man had to be his favored. Was it someone he specifically wanted her bonded to? Why?

“That was a great idea on your part,” Rocarri said. A sizzling sounded, and a beat later, a gentle floral aroma wafted through the air.

Incense.

Fates, one of them was reading, and unless they were also tied to Dryvius, with how demanding her magic was down here, Emmeline was about to have a very hard time staying present to eavesdrop.

A session pounded at the base of her skull. She rolled her neck to try to fight it down, grimacing.

Smoke filtered through the hatch, dancing around her.

“How’s your other project going?” the stranger asked Rocarri as Emmeline dug her nails into the stone wall, the world turning hazy.

The Chancellor scoffed. “Last attempt was another failure. I think the mapping is incorrect.”

Pages shuffled. “Tonight may work better. If not tomorrow.”

Emmeline’s reading tugged as she fought to figure out what the Chancellor was talking about. But a sharp pull behind her navel nearly had her toppling over, forgetting everything they’d discussed.

I wish to tell you the tale, a feminine voice cracked through her mind, and Emmeline knew her immediately.

“Anphrosia,” she whispered mentally, biting her tongue as the reading beat harder at her.

Hello, Reignarria, the Fate of Cruelty and Adoration hummed, a song weaving on the air.

A cold sweat broke out along Emmeline’s skin. She took slow, deep breaths, careful not to utter a sound beneath the trap door.

“What does that mean?” she asked the Fate in the reading.

For Him to fall, and Her to bleed, Anphrosia sing-songed unhelpfully.

“Who?” Emmeline muttered. She wanted to conclude this session quickly to hear what Rocarri was saying overhead, but anger burned through her at that last statement. “If it’s me, I’ve already bled. I’ve given up everything as you told me I would have to, bled every secret, and it didn’t matter.”

And for the first time since coming to Valyn, Emmeline let her fury out. She dove fully into the reading, abandoning the men above.

Silver rained from the sky, falling on the dusty earth and simmering in the heat of the white flames around her. Tears stung her eyes, slipping down her cheeks and searing away. The medley of steam rose, cradling her.

“They’ve made me a prize and an object, and I gave up everything to be here! I can’t truly find my sister, I can’t be with Roremar, so what else can I do? What else can I bleed to make you happy, Anphrosia? Where is the promise this city was supposed to hold?”

Anphrosia’s starry outline appeared in the flames. You are not the first among us. The realms are not born of kindness and fairness. You know this more than most, as do I.

Valyn is built upon the bones of fortune. Do not turn away so quickly, do not rashly deem its adoration of your soul cruel, for you may overlook the most important truths.

A high-pitched laugh cracked among the stars, flames reaching toward Emmeline.

Anphrosia went on, He is lying in wait, but chaos will reveal all soon with the help of his heir.

Chaos.

“Dryvius,” Emmeline guessed, throat dry. And an heir. Someone tied to him. Cold horror sank through her. “He’s going to use Roremar again, isn’t he?”

I cannot speak of him anymore.