Page 68 of Revels on an Angel’s Grave

Emmeline flew onto the balcony, bracing her hands on the stone railing and tilting her face to the stars as she took heaving, ravaged breaths.

“Why?” she exhaled, staring down each of those twelve constellations she’d commanded.

Why had they done this? Why had they made them fall for one another when this was their fate? Why had they led her to believe she could bear all those wounds—that he could, too—only for them to be ripped apart?

Were she and Roremar ever meant to be together, or would this longing grip her heart for the rest of her life?

Was a show all they’d ever be?

And that ever-present question: What did Dryvius want with him?

The door rattled open behind her. It swung closed softly, and she blinked away the tears lining her lashes as boots thudded against the stone.

A hum of awareness—of familiarity—beat across her skin as the newcomer stopped beside her, her magic slithering protectively around her heart.

And when Emmeline turned to face him, she gasped. “Temple Master.”

Aldryn Falliare inclined his head. “Hello, Emmeline.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

Roremar

A Fatesdamned cage.

Though, he was no better than an animal being paraded about for their loathing and to satisfy the rightful fear they had of him, a part of him agreed it was a smart decision. Who knew when Dryvius would use him again? A party full of Starsearcher elite would be the prime opportunity for chaos.

At least from this cage he could watch Emmeline. Better than being back in the barracks where he thought he’d be left for the Presentation.

Even glimpsing her—speaking to her about none of the important stuff between them—was better than wondering where she was.

Though, when he’d thought about seeing her earlier, he didn’t realize it would be in another man’s arms. His chest physically ached as that cocksucker Perry spun her around the room. At her hand resting against his. At his fingers curling around her waist, against the soft skin he remembered as if it was burned into his own.

At the pain shooting through her eyes when she thought no one was looking.

He was looking, though. Roremar Silventa was always looking at Emmeline DeLeoste.

Studying.

Memorizing.

Dreaming.

Because she had been his for a split second in time. For one wild kiss amid the ruined seeing chamber—beneath the impossible twelve constellations this magical woman had rearranged—she was his.

Or he pretended she was.

His fingers tightened on the bars as her eyes met his again over Perry’s shoulder, and he quickly found himself recounting all the ways he knew to kill a man for touching her. Khasson stood at the edge of the floor, watching with an amused smirk behind his wine glass. Would he have to endure watching them together next?

A wrench twisted his heart, his lungs. He wanted her so badly it hurt to breathe.

But she wasn’t his anymore.

There won’t be a next time.

We only ruin each other.

It was for the best if he was kept away from her, but there was a lingering discomfort from last night. He’d never believe she wasn’t good for him. Her claim left a taste of doubt in the back of his throat. It wrecked him to not be able to put the pieces together, had kept him awake until dawn.