Page 49 of Revels on an Angel’s Grave

So, inhaling and holding his stare, Emmeline gave him the only one she could. “Because whoever wins the tournament gets me.”

Chapter Eighteen

Emmeline

The words broke over the room like shattered glass, shifting Roremar’s countenance. His jaw tensed, hands fisting. “What?”

“Whoever wins gets me,” Emmeline repeated, voice shaking. He was going to find out soon anyway. Better he react here than in the barracks where he’d make himself a larger target. “They’re going to bond me to him. I am the prize, Roremar.”

And if we’re found here together, you’ll be dead sooner.

“No.” Roremar’s eyes blazed silver, as hot as the heart of the stars, a feral fury igniting as her words landed. It burned right through his despondence and into her. “No, Emmeline, they can’t do that. You’re not theirs to give away. You’re⁠—”

He bit down on that thought, a muscle in his jaw ticking.

She wanted to dare him to say to whom she truly belonged, because her heart had known it since the seeing chamber, and truthfully long before that.

Since he offered her a safe place for the first time in years. Since he’d defended her to the Snake Charmer. Since he’d listened to every one of her horrid truths and didn’t turn away but saw her through them.

But she couldn’t ask him for that word when she couldn’t give it back.

Stay in line, Emmeline.

“We should go,” she whispered, reluctance splintering her chest as she backed away from him. Every inch hurt. “We can’t be here.”

“What?”

“You and I.” The words broke her, each one a root she had to pry from the depths of herself, ripping up soil in between each breath. Turning her heart—her world—inside out because somewhere between a case assignment and a seeing chamber, Roremar had planted himself so deeply within her, he was a part of her soul. “You and I can’t be together. Not anymore.”

“I know we can’t,” he said plainly. “I’m not safe for you.”

Tears welled in her eyes. She should have let him think that was the reason. It would’ve been easier to convince him. But even though she needed to hurt him right now to force him to stay away, she refused to wield his guilt against him.

This was probably the most alone they’d ever be. Maybe she could tell him about Rocarri⁠—

Remember, this is my city you’re in.

Unseen eyes burrowed into her, sealing her throat tight. He’d know. Somehow, the Chancellor would know. She was never invisible anymore. She belonged to the capital’s games, and that thought coated her skin in oil.

She couldn’t add more hardships to Roremar’s plate by telling him exactly how she was being used. He’d want to fix it, and he had too much to handle already.

They had to stay away from one another.

If she was going to convince the Chancellor she was truly accepting her role, it had to be believable. She had to break both of their hearts.

Stealing herself, Emmeline said, “We aren’t good together. We only ruin each other.”

The scorned silence burned as hot as Arenothos’s forge. Emmeline’s skin prickled with it, and her eyes stung as desperation clawed at her, begging to take back those words.

“We aren’t good?” Roremar echoed.

“We aren’t,” Emmeline breathed.

There was a moment, a breath, before she recognized her mistake. Before a flicker of unhinged amusement flashed in Roremar’s eyes, and Emmeline remembered how damn stubborn this man could be.

Roremar stalked forward, backing her into the wall. His body pressed against hers, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip to bite down on the gasp the contact elicited.

Fates, every part of her lit up where they connected, her body needy for his. Like it was something both deserved and demanded.