Page 63 of Revels on an Angel’s Grave

She sighed in relief when he flagged down the Governor of the Fourth District as he passed with a plate full of appetizers. That man didn’t seem too pleased, though, quietly eating his snacks as Missovette laughed at his own jokes.

The Governor may have made a good target for her mission if Missovette paused his prattling long enough for her to get a word in.

On her other side was Rocarri’s partner, the woman quiet and dazed enough that Emmeline was fairly certain she was high.

Low, stringed music floated on the air as Emmeline’s nails drummed against her wine glass. Each note heightened her nerves, pinched her chest.

Lola and Cyren had found seats at a table directly in front of her, and her gaze flicked to them every few seconds as the crowd quieted and faced the Chancellor. Everywhere, eyes cut to her, too. Her throat tightened.

Coveted.

Desired.

Trapped.

And that cursed music continued.

Lola gave Emmeline an assuring nod as Rocarri stood. The white robe draping his shoulders was trimmed with silver-threaded brocade that caught the light as he lifted his glass and everyone followed.

“We are here tonight to present the thirty contestants who passed the initial test in the Angel’s Races”—survived the test, Emmeline mentally corrected him—“and will be moving onto the second round, all vying for the hand of our dear Emmeline DeLeoste.”

She stiffened, Rocarri’s threats running through her mind. Coiling down her spine. Pulling her strings of magic like a puppeteer.

You have this effect on them. What will your existence drive them to do?

The doors at the back of the room cracked open, drowning out Emmeline’s sharp inhale as she tried to chase off the memory. Beneath the table, over too many layers of her skirt, her fingers curled into the ring tied to her thigh.

“Please, welcome your competitors of the Tournament of the Angel!”

Emmeline scoured the two lines of men marching through the doors, keeping her expression as disinterested as possible. Much like in the arena, she felt as though she were looking in on the scene from behind fogged glass, preserved and kept apart.

The guests were applauding and hollering as if these men hadn’t been covered in the blood of their peers only the day before. Nausea twisted through her as the noise mounted, as the music grew louder.

Most of the men waved, flashing sparkling white grins at the warriors who favored them, but Emmeline caught the flickers of doubt behind a few smiles. The ghosts of the blood they’d shed. They’d dressed in fancier clothes, groomed and prepped, but for some of them it was impossible to wipe the haunting away entirely. One man—boy, she wanted to say based on the roundness of his cheeks—was so pale beneath his red curls she thought he’d be sick.

She scanned every face, every pair of eyes, committing them to memory but also searching for grey irises that lit up her soul.

When the last competitor entered, a towering bulk of a man taking up both rows without a companion, Emmeline’s attention flashed to Lola. She was gripping Cyren’s arm worriedly. When she met Emmeline’s eye, Lola shook her head.

Emmeline counted the men who scattered among the tables, finding seats between the highly-ranked Starsearchers. One, two, three…

Twenty-seven.

Twenty-eight.

Twenty-nine.

There were only twenty-nine of them when there should have been thirty. An even number, half of the initial fighters who’d entered the duel.

She counted again as Rocarri introduced them each by name, and she committed them to memory, who had the most supporters, what their presentation tactics were.

Twenty-nine.

She pressed her palms into the table to brace herself, fighting to not show a single ounce of confusion or care that Roremar was missing. Perry gave her a grin from the first table that she supposed was meant to be charming but only had her stomach pitching. When Rocarri was done speaking, there wasn’t an empty chair in the room.

They hadn’t planned for Roremar to come.

Starfire rippled at the edges of Emmeline’s vision. Where was he? Where was⁠—