Page 122 of Revels on an Angel’s Grave

Something she was beginning to realize she couldn’t find on her own. At least not with how watched she was and how demanding Rocarri was of her schedule. Though they didn’t know who was responsible, this attack tonight was a wakeup call.

Emmeline trailed her fingers through Roremar’s hair as she chose her words carefully, not giving up every piece. “Back on Lyra, I was doing research on the history of corruption in the temple network on the continent for a…personal project. Do you…Is there somewhere I can get information? Maybe names of those who were involved in Valyn so I can continue the…research? And anything related to a place called the Temple of Selene.”

Cyren blinked at her curiously before saying, “We keep all accounts related to that in the private government Archives.” That explained why she couldn’t find much the other night. Emmeline’s heart deflated for a beat, but Cyren added, “I have clearance for certain records, and I have a friend who works in that department. I can ask them to pull ledgers with pertinent names and players.”

“Thank you. And if you don’t mind, I’d like to keep it between those in this room,” Emmeline said, unable to summon the energy to ask for any more specifics.

“Of course.”

While tonight had been a wreck, at least she’d taken a step toward that goal. Had allowed a new person in to do it, too. When Roremar woke, he’d be proud.

For now, she had to focus on getting him through this tournament. Even if that meant setting aside the hunt for her sister until she got records from Cyren.

It pained her to make that choice, but what in this city hadn’t ripped her apart so far? They were taking everything from her, piece by piece. It was only a matter of time until they took this, too.

The General and Lola spoke in hushed voices over the desk as they mixed the tonics Roremar would need for the next day. He’d have to stay here to recover, but Cyren said they’d tell the guards at the barracks he was in a warded infirmary in the city due to whatever illness Lola had contracted.

And given everyone in the manor thought Lola and now Emmeline were sick as well—including Graves and Eston—they should have bought themselves the time they needed to lay low until the second trial.

The poison trial.

“Myrella’s at the apartment?” Emmeline asked Desmond as he approached the bed.

“She wrote that she’d stay there and work on the scroll.”

At least she was safe.

“It’s ironic isn’t it,” Emmeline thought aloud as she traced the scar above Roremar’s eyebrow, “the second task has to do with poisons and someone attacks him like this.”

“Ironic or targeted,” Desmond agreed, leaning against the bedpost with his arms crossed, fingers drumming out a beat against his biceps.

“I’d say the latter,” Emmeline admitted. “But the question is, why?”

Because he was with me. I let him in.

A physical ache sprouted through her chest as that realization settled.

“Excuse me,” Emmeline whispered. She bent to press one more soft kiss to Roremar’s forehead, this one lingering in a way that felt like a goodbye she’d never be prepared to face.

She crossed to her dressing chamber, closing the door behind her. A tall window stood at the opposite side of the narrow room casting a rectangle of cloud-marred light over the glimmering gowns and jewels she’d been gifted.

As if she were a ghostly specter, body numb beneath the weight of her realizations, Emmeline stripped off her bloody gown. In only her chemise, baring all her scars, she floated to the bench beneath the window and fell onto the cushion. Her face tipped to the stars, and quietly, one languid drop at a time, tears rolled down her cheeks, each one an acceptance.

“I can’t have him, can I?” she whispered to the stars, but the storm had rolled through Valyn, and none of them were visible. “I always knew I couldn’t keep anyone, but a part of me hoped…”

With each word, her composure cracked further, her haunted self unraveling.

“A part of me hoped he’d been made for me to keep.”

Her pieces fell apart one by one, each like knives in her chest.

“Thought maybe I’d love him.” Emmeline’s voice was small as she admitted it, giving that worry up to the faceless stars. “I know even if that’s true, I can’t keep him. But I promise, if you help me get him out of this tournament with a clear name, I’ll let him go. I swear I’ll let him go. Just show me how to help him live freely, okay?”

Invisible stars took her worries, not answering, but she swore she felt a whisper down her cheek, a caress of a vow. She leaned into it, stealing that comfort over the pain in her chest, over the thread that threatened to rip out her heart and send her to smithereens if she ignored it too long.

She had to ignore it.

This…