Page 158 of Revels on an Angel’s Grave

“Yes,” she breathed. “No,” she contradicted immediately, unsure what argument she was trying to make anymore. If she was even answering his question.

All she knew was that each drag of his fingers had starfire exploding along her vision. Had something ancient buried deep within her pulling tight, to the point where she thought it might kill her if she didn’t give in.

“What should I do?” Roremar asked.

Emmeline’s eyes slipped closed, her legs falling open wider, begging.

“Eyes on me.” He waited for her. “You know what you like. I’ve seen you do it. Now, tell me what you want, Huntress.”

But that was the Fatesforsaken point. The one that sobered her up from his sinful influence. What she wanted and what she was allowed to have were two entirely different things.

She wanted to kiss him. Wanted to give him that small piece of hope. But hope was dangerous.

And if she pressed her lips to his—if she broke that rule—one kiss would never be enough for either of them.

Emmeline paused for a breath. Only a breath to memorize every inch of his expression, the scars she’d fixated over too many times to count, the shape of his eyes and fullness of his bottom lip, the way his heavy, restrained breaths tumbled over it and into her.

And then, she said the word that would break them both. “Stop.”

Her heart shattered. As she stood among the bloody shards, she cursed this city, cursed the Chancellor and his tournament, the competitors fighting for her hand, and the Fates themselves for giving her this man and then taking him away.

The war inside her must have played on her face.

It flashed through Roremar’s eyes.

“Stay with me, Huntress,” he pleaded.

I can’t, she almost said. But it wasn’t enough. So, she let herself break instead. “I don’t want to.”

The acceptance was visible in his solemn nod.

Roremar’s forehead dropped against hers. “I’m sorry this is how it is.”

The understanding lodged a knot in her throat. He truly thought this was what she wanted because of his Fate tie. And while it was her lies that convinced him—her promise to the stars and the covetous need this city had for her magic that kept him away—she blinked back tears.

“As much as I hate to interrupt,” Perry’s voice drifted to her as he walked out of the grapevines, “time is up.”

Roremar narrowed his eyes, rearranging Emmeline’s skirt. “How long have you been there?”

“You don’t want to know.” Perry looked at her, hazel eyes thick with sorrow. “Emmeline?”

He held out a hand, but before Roremar released her, he pressed one lingering kiss to her forehead. That small act nearly undid her more than any of his sinful touches had, but she strode forward and looped her arm through Perry’s.

And Roremar…

He finally let her go.

Chapter Fifty-One

Roremar

He’d lost her.

It was the only thought that echoed through his mind as Roremar watched Emmeline walk away.

The one thing he’d clung to slipped from his grasp, and all he could blame was his Fate tie. Another thing Dryvius had taken from him.

Never mind that Emmeline had bared every scar to him on Lyra. He’d had her so briefly, he could convince himself he never did at all.