Page 259 of Revels on an Angel’s Grave

Together forevermore, be it for tragedy or fortune.

Emmeline squared her shoulders. “Wherever I go after tomorrow, our souls, our bodies, our fates are entwined. That’s what you swore to me, Reckless. We go together or not at all.”

She’d chosen him, Fates be damned. In every life, but starting with this one. It was the only choice she’d ever truly gotten to make for herself, and the one she’d make time and again without question.

She knew he heard every promise in her words. Knew her hand in his now meant more than a bond from the Fates ever could.

She saw each realization land as a spark of silver in his haunted grey eyes, the same eyes that had looked at her with love and adoration only hours ago and now held so many fears of how this could all go so wrong.

He looked all around them. At Desmond, who Perry had jumped the starfire line after them to help. He was barely holding him together, both of them covered in blood.

At Myrella, a trembling mess on the floor where Rian tried to soothe her. At his uncle and the Chancellor, awe and anger mixing in both of their expressions.

At Cirre, pawing impatiently at the mouth of the veil.

And his vow crashed down the bond.

“Let’s go meet the Fates.”

Emmeline slid her hand into Roremar’s good one, and with Cirre on their heels, they raced through the veil.

And as they left Ambrisk behind, all Emmeline heard were those words from the Fates:

And somewhere beyond the veil,

Spins an utter star-crossed tale.

And she hoped it wasn’t theirs.

Chapter Eighty-Six

Roremar

Roremar didn’t dare look back as he and Emmeline crossed the veil into certain ruin.

He couldn’t or he’d only be torn to give Desmond last words that wouldn’t matter at fucking all if he couldn’t get his sister back.

He gripped Emmeline’s hand and ran, despite every part of him that was terrified to bring her here. Worried about how the Fates would manipulate her—if they’d be even worse than Valyn.

The realms shuddered as they ran through the veil and onto the glass bridge that stretched through an endless sea of stars, nothing but constellations and meteors and cosmos on every side.

The entire structure trembled beneath them, Cirre’s padding footfalls a welcomed comfort. Stars fell through rippling auroras. Constellations flickered and spun through the skies, creating great webs unlike any star map he’d ever seen, like it was mapping the entirety of existence.

And all of it was a revolt.

“We’re not supposed to be here,” Roremar called, over the calamitous shifting of the galaxies.

“Neither of our Fate ties are supposed to even exist,” Emmeline reminded him. “When has that stopped us?”

And in some Fateforsaken twisted moment, as they raced across realms, he actually found it in him to smile at his Huntress.

So many people had tried to manipulate them, tear them apart, and make them believe they didn’t deserve one another, and yet here they were, choosing each other and racing across realms—together.

The stars spun faster, twelve familiar constellations popping to life overhead.

It was uncanny, how they followed them everywhere.

With each pounding step, Roremar felt he was getting further from his sister, Dryvius not even visible ahead. Desperate, he reached out to his tie with the Fate, wrenched it up without incense, and planted his claws deep into Dryvius’s mind.