Page 256 of Revels on an Angel’s Grave

Her magic. Whatever she contained as a Realmspinner—what Dryvius had stolen from her—that was what did this.

And he’d just used it to open a fucking bridge between two realms. One he planned to take Lola across.

“Don’t take her, Dryvius,” Roremar said. Hatred burned through him, tensing every muscle in his body to the point of pain. But he didn’t feel it. All he felt was the terror in Lola’s eyes, the grief already wanting to drown him. He bit out, “If you hurt her, I will kill anyone you have ever cared about, no matter what realm I have to reach to do it.”

“That’s the thing about becoming a Fate,” Dryvius mocked. “The humanity we sacrificed in exchange for eternity? It took so many benign cares with it.”

“Love isn’t benign,” Roremar argued. “It’s a gift, and I will take every gift from you if you take my sister. I will destroy anything you have cherished, become your personal monster. There will be nowhere you can run.” He seethed, power burning through him, past every layer of fear that had pummeled him tonight. “You and I are connected, Dryvius. You may have your body back, but I will always be able to find your mind.”

He’d used the tie he scorned to do it. He would do whatever it took if Dryvius harmed another person he loved. Commit any crime as retribution for the frightened look on Lola’s face alone. Blue eyes so wide and terrified.

With every ounce of sincerity in his bones, Roremar swore, “I promise, Lola. I will hurt him so much worse before he gets a chance to hurt you.”

“Remember, Reckless,” Dryvius taunted, “you and I are not that different at all.”

“Don’t say that.” Roremar boiled at the words the Fate had spoken to him in his last reading.

Dryvius tilted his head, the veil behind him shimmering, growing larger each second. That breaking glass echoed again and again. “Then let the games continue.”

“Please,” Lola begged, bare feet struggling for purchase, fingers clawing. And Roremar wasn’t sure if she was begging him or the Fate, but for the first time in years, Lola looked so lost.

Roremar would have given anything in that moment to fix it.

Racing up beside him, Emmeline screamed, “Take me instead!”

Roremar would have given anything—except for that.

Chapter Eighty-Five

Emmeline

“Emmeline,” Lola wheezed. Her blue eyes pleaded, bottom lip trembling.

And Emmeline knew what she was trying to communicate with her stare—knew Roremar wouldn’t see it.

Lola was willing to let Dryvius take her, knowing it meant her sacrifice, because her brother needed Emmeline. And Lola would do anything to give Roremar what he needed after all he’d been through, after feeling like she’d abandoned him and their family these past ten years.

But repayment wasn’t the way to show love, as Emmeline had been told recently.

And aside from the fact that Emmeline would never let Lola sacrifice herself, none of them knew—none of them had all the pieces she had, all the messages the Fates had been sending her for weeks that she’d been putting together since they arrived in this grave.

A fortune spun by Fated hands,

A choice taken from forsaken bands.

Two hearts staked through with malice.

It meant Dryvius and Anphrosia. It was their malice the fortune spoke of. Their hatred that seeped across the realms, across the stars and eons, and sank its claws into this forsaken bond between Emmeline and Roremar, one that took all choice from them.

For Him to fall, and Her to bleed.

He’d fallen.

Fates, Roremar had fallen with the exposure of his Fate tie. The man she loved had been thrown so far from grace, and her heart bled for him until she was raw and aching, screaming his name in the capital halls and being deemed insane.

But now—now, she had a chance to fix something.

To remedy a past scorned daring,