Page 224 of Revels on an Angel’s Grave

He turned to keep walking toward the altar, aiming to find an entrance to the towers above.

Maybe he was being fucking territorial over Lola right now, but he wouldn’t admit it to this nosy, meddling guard who kept trying to steal her from him.

“You are so,” Eston argued, “and Lola knows it. She hates it.”

Desmond froze. “What?”

“It clearly makes her uncomfortable. She’s not someone you can control, haven’t you noticed?”

Yes, Lola always bickered when Desmond showed even a hint of his true feelings, but he knew her way better than Eston ever could. There was unspoken history between them.

Lola acted like she hated that he cared, but it was because it scared her. After her father died, she became the person that was always okay. Never showing the real emotions by day, giving him so many pieces on their one nights.

Well, caring fucking scared him, too.

But there wasn’t a realm in which he would try to control her. And when he found her, he’d ensure she never thought he’d do that.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” Desmond muttered as he jiggled the lock on one door.

Eston’s brows rose, mouth popping into a disbelieving smile. “Wow. I thought you were being a jealous ass, but this is way more than that.”

Desmond clenched and unclenched his fists, assessing the door. He threw his shoulder against it. “I care about her.”

Another ram into the door.

“I do, too.” Eston crossed to the door opposite the one Desmond was trying to open and broke the lock with one easy slam of his sword. “May the best man win.”

Frustration burning, Desmond was about to pull Roremar’s sword from his back when the door in front of him opened, too, and a huge, shadowed form stepped out.

Except, it wasn’t the being that was tall, it was the wings at her back.

Desmond’s magic lifted its head in acknowledgment of the Angel.

“Come along,” she said.

Lilac ether tumbled over white feathers as Valyrie stepped aside and welcomed Desmond and Eston into the back corridors of the temple. She led them all the way up to the towers that backed the stained-glass windows overlooking the street.

Through their rippled, colored glass, the city was a puddle of mystlight rainbows. The reverse of Dryvius’s message cast shadows on the floor, and crushed flower petals littered the space, one of those damn winged sigils on the wall.

But this site was no longer their biggest advantage.

“Do you know where she is?” Desmond demanded of Valyrie. If the Angel didn’t know, they were well and truly fucked.

“I cannot see what a Fate decides, Angelblessed. We have been over this. If I could, I would be able to tell you of Dryvius’s motivation.”

“Angelblessed?” Eston echoed, attention slicing to Desmond. “You have two Fate ties?”

“Yes,” he snapped, agitation heating in his chest.

Unlike Emmeline, Desmond didn’t go out of his way to hide the fact that he was tied to both Arenothos and Aevollon. He didn’t go around shouting it—it was no one’s fucking business—but it didn’t pose a danger to him the way her eleven did.

Eston, though, seemed impressed.

And based on the fond way Valyrie was looking at him, Desmond thought she might be, too. Odd, given she was the fucking Angel. She’d probably known a number of Starsearchers with multiple Fate ties.

“It is not a surprise your line ended up on Alvan,” Valyrie observed, almost thinking aloud more than speaking to him. “The isles were always my favorite escape.”

“Yeah, Alvan is great. Real beautiful in the summer,” Desmond rushed, eager to return to the topic of Lola, “and it’s helpful being tied to both Arenothos and Aevollon⁠—”