Page 129 of Revels on an Angel’s Grave

“Rocarri must know the Fates are connected to this tournament. That’s why he’s so fanatically obsessed. He wants something out of it.” The memory of the gleam in his eye during the duel twisted Emmeline’s stomach. The Chancellor clearly was overly infatuated, for more than her power. After all, he didn’t get to claim her magic at the end of this. He was giving her away.

What, then, did he get?

Lola inhaled. “Could he be creating another Fate?”

“No…he couldn’t.” Emmeline’s skin chilled. Could he?

She looked at the Chancellor, his silver-trimmed robes glistening in the sunbeams like he was a star himself. He had secrets, and likely far more than they’d once expected. But would he go as far as to try to create a thirteenth Fate? There had to be another logical reason.

What was it he had implied after the first trial?

“The duels,” Emmeline hurried as the pieces clicked. “What if it wasn’t only about strength? Rocarri said it himself: When the men killed needlessly, their minds could warp. What if that was Valyrie’s intention?”

A splintering echoed through the arena as a competitor fell on his table. Another tried to rip greenery from the walls, shrieks vibrating the stone.

“What do you mean?” Lola asked.

“The first trial wasn’t only to prove strength. It was about hardening the competitors into the brutal beings Valyrie needed her Fates to be. It was about cracking their morality. Losing the humanity that made them mortal.”

“So, they’d be primed to manipulate Starsearchers through fortunes,” Lola guessed.

“And then, in the second trial, with that part of them severed, she began manipulating their magic. Before that, all readings came from Valyrie herself, so she likely had intimate knowledge of each participant. She’d have wanted to test their personal strengths and weaknesses so she could exploit their magic if they won the trials. They were poisoned…”

Emmeline recalled the beads of wispy starlight that had floated around the arena in the reading, seeping into Valyrie’s open palms. “The poison took something from them. It tied those who survived it to Valyrie somehow. Maybe it started the process of them becoming Fates.”

“She was creating the first Fate ties. That could mean the theory about Rocarri creating a Fate is correct.”

“It could, but if that’s right, Valyrie didn’t use poison in the literal sense. It created a connection between her and the competitors that she then used to turn them into Fates. The second trial wasn’t about the poison—not at its heart. It tested who was mentally worthy and created connections to manipulate…manipulating Fate ties⁠—”

Emmeline scanned the arena again, the men, the items on their tables.

The rubies on Roremar’s chalice glinted, richest wine red.

Her stomach fell to her feet. “Oh, burning starfire.”

Chapter Forty-Three

Roremar

Roremar raced to Rian’s table as his ally gripped the wood, the surface cracking beneath his nails. He didn’t cry out or retch like others had, but sweat poured down his face, his features twisted as he scrambled to pry open the burlap sack.

Roremar scooped up the silver chalice Rian had thrown to the floor. Smoke still spiraled from the empty basin, orangish-brown gems studding the metal. He sniffed the contents.

“Citrus,” Roremar said. And a hint of something earthy. He gripped Rian’s shoulder. “What did it taste like?”

“What?” Rian gritted out as he removed herbs from the sack.

“The liquid—what did yours taste like?”

Rian slouched forward, one elbow hitting the table with a crack. He gulped down air. “Fucking lemon juice, what does it matter?”

“Your Fate tie is Anhala, isn’t it?”

Eyes widening and face turning red, Rian nodded.

“The poisons are connected to each of our Fate ties,” Roremar whispered hurriedly to Rian. The poisons were crafted uniquely for each of them, assigned based on an inherent part of their magic.

Around them, more and more men struggled, a few succumbing to their duress before they could even attempt to figure out an antidote. Roremar’s attention scoured every table for clues.