Page 101 of Revels on an Angel’s Grave

“I may not have your skillset, but I have my own.” He smirked. “Anyway, he was buying a sculpture of some sort. A palm-sized carving.”

Roremar straightened. “What of?”

“I don’t know exactly, but we were able to get one of a similar stone. It’s coated in a dark, reflective sheen. Oil or ink or paint—we aren’t sure.”

“Do you have it?”

Desmond shook his head. “Myrella has it. She and Emmeline wanted to look at texts about uncommon mineral components.”

“Like a rare, mined stone?” Roremar asked.

“Potentially.”

Mentally, Roremar pulled up an image of his uncle’s office in the Lyra Temple Academy and his private lodgings. He had a number of artifacts displayed, but none of them appeared prized in any way.

Although, Aldryn Falliare wasn’t the type to have a precious artifact and hide it where no one would ever see it. He’d keep it close, keep it where he could watch it, but also where it could be flaunted.

Much like he did with Emmeline.

Fuck, he wished his uncle would visit him so he could punch him in the throat.

“That’s not the weirdest part, though,” Des said, and Roremar’s attention snapped back to him. Desmond’s stare dropped to Roremar’s hands, then back up. “You missing one of your rings?”

His heart stuttered. “Yeah. The one my father gave me years ago.”

Desmond nodded as if he expected that answer. “Emmeline has it.”

“She—what?”

“She found it in the cells below the Trade House.” Desmond cleared his throat. “It’s sweet, for a lovesick fool. She’s worn it around her neck ever since.”

The vacant space in Roremar’s chest warmed, longing bleeding through him. Fuck, he had to find a way to have her for real.

“Did your father ever say what that ring was made of?” Desmond asked.

“Some sort of steel.” It’s made of a type of metal that’s delicate to work with but nearly indestructible once forged—two things at once. “Why?”

“Because we think whatever is imbued in that metal is the same thing coating the statue.”

Roremar’s mind raced as he moved his next piece, the game falling into place before him. “So, Falliare is here participating in suspicious rituals and seeking out some item that’s imbued with the same oil as something that once belonged to my father—a man who hated him.”

“Feels like there’s a reason there, doesn’t it?” Desmond asked, taking his next turn.

“Certainly does,” Roremar said, studying the board between them. His mind woke up, pulled itself from the grief-stricken haze he’d succumbed to. It took these pieces and started laying out the steps of a mystery, a lethal puzzle to be solved or cursed by the Fates. One he was a lot more comfortable looking into than the murder. “The only question is, what is Aldryn Falliare up to?” He smiled as he picked up his final piece and placed it down, blocking in Desmond’s king. “Checkmate, Alvi.”

As Desmond cursed, a clatter sounded in the hall.

They both shot to their feet as Myrella flew through the door, panting.

“What’s wrong?” Desmond asked.

She didn’t seem to have any obvious injuries, but her face was pale as she said, “Someone ransacked our room.”

Chapter Thirty-Four

Emmeline

“And nothing was taken?” Emmeline repeated.