Page 133 of Revels on an Angel’s Grave

It wasn’t gone—not entirely. He doubted Dryvius would ever leave him alone, and he’d been able to somewhat read the other night. But it had been altered somehow.

Rocarri didn’t care about that, though. Wouldn’t hear Roremar’s explanation. Roremar had pushed him too far, and the Chancellor was looking for any excuse to lock him up.

“Take him to the cells for holding,” Rocarri declared, waving a hand at the guards.

Terror wrung his chest as he was dragged back.

“Emmeline,” he choked out, but he couldn’t find her. The arena had turned into a riot, the spectators with maroon banners roaring in anger. Dust stirred up around the men fighting for their lives, those still standing hurrying to assemble their antidotes after what Rocarri revealed, figuring out which would save them.

He could feel her, though—Emmeline’s fear and rage compounded in his own chest, shooting down the thread that tied them together.

City Guards forced him back toward the tunnel, but despite the bleeding wound to his side, Roremar struggled. He knew the moment he stepped through that gate—the moment he allowed them to take him into those shadows—he’d never return.

Frantically, Roremar looked around for anything to help him, for⁠—

The earth shuddered, and dust pillowed in the air in the center of the arena. Warriors scattered, rubbing their eyes, some of the men still crying for help. Roremar choked on the dirt as an awed wave washed through the crowd, Starsearchers across the arena dropping to their knees.

“No fucking way,” one of the guards muttered as the dust cleared.

And a winged form took shape.

Not just any winged form. Great white feathered wings with lilac ether tumbling off them. Silver hair flowed to her waist, a beaded dress clinging to her figure. In the hazy winter sunshine, the gleaming embellishments almost looked like armor.

She lifted her head, galaxy-swirling navy eyes landing on Roremar. His knees buckled from the power rippling off her, from the steel-sharp glint in her almighty stare.

“Valyrie,” Roremar breathed.

Her lips tipped into a smile as her attention shifted to the platform above the arena, and he knew in his spirit she wasn’t looking at Balmour Rocarri.

She was looking at Emmeline.

“I hear my Races have been revived. I fear my invitation must have been lost.”

Chapter Forty-Four

Emmeline

“Valyrie?” Emmeline breathed. The Angel’s eyes locked on her, a smile tipping up her full lips.

Emmeline took all of one step forward, and an ache splintered through her skull. Lightning cleaved her vision, bright-white streaks cracking through the colosseum and sending her to her knees.

“Emmeline?” Lola distantly asked, panic in her voice.

Star’s Reign.

Star’s Ruin.

The world split in two, Valyrie’s wide feathered wings and smile from the arena on one side, the Angel in the past seeing chamber on the other.

Emmeline cried out.

For him to fall and her to bleed.

White fire rippled through the center of the reading, the two halves divided in searing cruelty.

Her skin burned, and her chest thundered with worry from across the arena. A dense, agonized fog clouded her, pressure wringing her lungs. But she didn’t give in. She couldn’t, despite Roremar’s voice tearing through the air.

One word. Her name.