Page 52 of Revels on an Angel’s Grave

Emmeline’s heart pinched at the defeat in his voice. He was a crumbling statue and a little piece of him was breaking off in her palm.

The reality of them not being alone, not being allowed to be together at all, came crashing back, and fear for Roremar’s life gripped Emmeline’s lungs.

What will your existence drive them to do?

You may forfeit Roremar the Reckless’s life.

This had been a horribly senseless idea. She’d allowed them to get too carried away, but she wouldn’t again.

Reluctance slowing each move, Roremar got to his feet and pulled her leathers back on. Once she was dressed, he paused, brushing her hair from her face and pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“Next time, Huntress.”

She shook her head, chest aching. “There isn’t a next time.”

“Because we only ruin each other, right?” Roremar whispered as a second set of knocks sounded.

Emmeline swallowed. “Right.”

He searched her expression, and Emmeline buried all her regret and longing.

She didn’t know what he found in her eyes, but it clearly wasn’t enough to deter his headstrong tendencies. Roremar pulled her bottom lip from between her teeth and said, “I may have been prepared to die in that arena, Huntress, but this—tonight—gave me a reason to win.”

Win.

The tournament.

He wasn’t giving up, and that thought both thrilled and terrified her.

Before she could argue, a third series of knocks sounded and Alana opened the door. “We need to get going. We’re arranging a longer meeting, but this is all we have time for tonight.”

“I’ll see you soon,” Roremar said to Emmeline, and the vow in his voice both ripped her apart and stitched her up. “Oh, and promise me something?”

“Yes?” She couldn’t be with him, but she’d promise him anything that was in her power.

“Don’t stop looking for her. Whatever you do, don’t give up.”

Her sister. Even now, Roremar was prioritizing Emmeline and the person she’d fought so long to find. Tears gathered on her lashes as she whispered, “That’s why I’m here.”

He walked backward to the door, his eyes on hers and her heart bleeding.

On the threshold, he looked Alana over and whispered, “Thank you, Lola. Be careful. Please.”

Lola?

“Always am.” She squeezed his arm, giving him an affectionate smile. “And I never want to know what you did in here with my help. Now hurry. We’re barely getting you back as it is.”

He smirked, but it was a different one than he gave anyone else. Emmeline’s gaze flicked between them, her stomach tightening at the familiarity.

Roremar hugged Alana, then he was gone. He didn’t turn back to look at Emmeline, and she knew it was his way of not saying goodbye, of it not being final, like when he was escorted from the Trade House.

When he was gone, Alana began blowing out the candles.

“Lola?” Emmeline asked in the strangling silence.

Alana straightened, not facing her as she said, “He couldn’t say Alana when I was born. Came out like Alola, and it stuck.”

Goosebumps rose along Emmeline’s arms as she studied Alana’s long, night-dark hair, the shade so similar beneath the blue sheen shimmering in the low light. The clever but disobedient scheme that got them here tonight.