Page 181 of Revels on an Angel’s Grave

Lola’s handwriting was messy, harsh across the parchment. Rushed or in distress?

Lola. Another body.

No. No. No. He had to protect her.

Nico gripped his wrists, digging in until he bruised him.

His father’s blood coated the earth around him, dampening the air.

A blade was cold in his hand.

Only Emmeline’s body pressed against his and her constant whispers of “she’s okay” kept him from giving into the tunneling panic.

He flew up the steps to the apartment Desmond and Myrella were renting, panting as he flung the door open and it cracked back on its hinges. A thunder of boots followed him up the stairs.

“Lola?” he called, rushing into the cramped foyer, wet soles squeaking against the tile. It was dim, light barely spilling into the corridor from the sitting room, the hall so narrow, walls so close, boots and cloaks everywhere⁠—

As he rounded the corner, a body slammed into him.

A small body, arms encircling his waist.

And a young voice cheered, “Rory!”

The sound sank into his bones, unknotting a stress he hadn’t realized he’d been carrying. He gripped her arms, gaping down at his baby sister. “Siena?”

The youngest Silventa blinked her big blue eyes up at him, grinning as wide as he’d ever seen. And a piece of him—one he thought he’d lost forever, one he was certain he wasn’t worthy of—clicked back into place in his heart.

Roremar hauled Siena to his chest and fell to his knees right in the doorway of the sitting room, cradling her head against his shoulder. He held her tiny form—somehow seeming taller than he’d remembered—and plastered kisses to her temple as she squirmed.

“Sisi,” he breathed, disbelief making every breath tight. He had to be dreaming, reading. If Dryvius was tricking him⁠—

Vivienne and Leo burst into the room, launching themselves at Roremar, too. He couldn’t see as they surrounded him, gangly arms everywhere. All he could do was feel their crushing grasps as his three youngest siblings—three of the people he’d fought for for years—repaired something within him that had shattered. Something only the innocence of their love—the way they clung to him despite what happened with Nico—could heal.

“Are you all okay?” he asked over the knot in his throat, his head spinning. “What are you doing here? How are you here?”

“Rory, we took the biggest boat I’ve ever seen!” Siena gushed. “And I only threw up twice because of the waves. Leo threw up six times!”

“It was five, and it was only the first two days. I was fine after,” Leo corrected, his face more solemn than normal. His gaze burrowed into Roremar as if he’d vanish if he looked away. A viselike grip squeezed Roremar’s heart at the pressure.

“I was okay,” Vivienne said with a quiet shrug. Her nose scrunched. “Leo was kind of gross, though.”

“Sounds like it,” Roremar laughed, voice thick, but he forced the tears back. He cupped Siena’s cheek, tugged Vivi’s messy braid, ruffled Leo’s hair. Needed to solidify that his siblings were here.

They were safe.

He hadn’t ruined everything.

“By the Fates, what are you all doing here?” Roremar stood, Siena clinging to him so she went with him. “Is Lola here?”

“Yes.” Lola emerged from a hallway Roremar assumed led to the bedrooms with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. Her footfalls were softened by the faded, woven rugs, dim yellow mystlight exposing her splotchy cheeks.

But it was the person behind her who finally had Roremar’s tears springing free.

“Mother,” he exhaled.

Her eyes were red rimmed as she stepped around Lola and strode forward. As she embraced him, the rest of his siblings followed. They stood there, the broken family he’d held together for years picking up his pieces now.

“Your note said there’s another body, Lola?” Roremar repeated as he sat on the sofa across from his mother. Emmeline was tucked into his side, spinning her opal ring around her finger, quieter than usual since they’d arrived at the apartment.