Page 193 of Revels on an Angel’s Grave

Who’d attacked her.

To tempt the Fates, and realms will wrest⁠—

“So, killing Nico—a Starsearcher tied to Serchus—fulfilled a prophecy that broke Dryvius free,” Emmeline whispered.

One heart of greed entrenched in kin.

Words from a reading Emmeline had told him about in the apartment above Fated Ink, a message neither of them understood at first. But Dryvius knew.

Because Serchus had found out a secret and positioned himself as a lynchpin, Nico’s death was the key that turned the lock and broke Dryvius’s containment.

But Serchus hadn’t created the ring. No, the containment of the Fate was all Deacon, trying to protect Roremar’s mind without knowing of the other consequences. Which meant that Serchus’s lock and key prophecy wasn’t only about breaking the hold of the ring…

Slipping her hand into his, Emmeline asked, “So after Dryvius killed Nico, he broke free and returned to the Fate Realm as a live Fate?”

“No,” Roremar answered before Valyrie could.

Emmeline was on the wrong path. They all were.

He will have her.

“That isn’t what Serchus meant by freed.” Roremar looked at the Angel, needing her to say it. “What happened? When I killed my brother, what happened?”

Sorrow dimmed Valyrie’s cosmic stare. “If I am correct, and this ring was containing Dryvius’s influence while you wore it, then when Serchus’s tie was slain, the lock containing him in your mind broke because he no longer required a vessel on Ambrisk.”

It was why his Fate tie felt different. Why he hadn’t seen Dryvius in his readings. Why Roremar had no blank spots in his memory from the recent murders in Valyn.

Because Dryvius wasn’t passing him readings from the Fate Realm, and he wasn’t using Roremar or his readings to kill.

The Fate of Chaos and Revelry wasn’t working with anybody.

Not Falliare, not Rocarri’s cult, and not some fanatic recreating his rituals.

“He’s already here,” Roremar breathed. “Dryvius didn’t return to the Fate Realm when he killed Nico. He returned to a body. On Ambrisk.”

Roremar looked out the window over the wide cobblestone street, Starsearchers crossing every which way.

The Fate of Chaos and Revelry walked among them. And because no one knew what the Fate looked like after thousands of years, he could be anyone.

Chapter Sixty-Two

Desmond

“Lols?” Desmond asked when he exited the apartment to find her huddled at the base of the stairs. “What are you doing here? I thought everyone agreed not to go anywhere alone with Dryvius⁠—”

Lola tipped her red-rimmed gaze to him, and Desmond’s heart faltered.

“What’s wrong?” He flew down the stairs and dropped beside her, the stone cold beneath him.

“I’m trying to convince myself not to go inside. And don’t yell at me for coming here alone. Eston is down the street.”

Desmond hated that he was relieved by that. “Why can’t you go inside?”

“Because I came here to find you, and I’m not supposed to.”

Desmond stilled. “Why not?”

Lola sniffed, fingers twisting through the ends of her hair. “Because we had our one night already.”