Page 64 of Revels on an Angel’s Grave

“As some of you may have noticed,” Rocarri began, slicing through the dying noise, “we are missing one of our competitors tonight.”

A groaning echoed from the opposite end of the dais.

“As you all heard of the triumph of Emmeline DeLeoste recently, you have heard of another’s downfall.”

Emmeline’s skin prickled as hundreds of eyes bore down on her. As whispers of her name and her magic trickled across the ballroom. As they scowled at her and muttered distasteful critiques, remembering her outburst in the arena.

Coveted.

Desired.

Trapped.

“We do have a thirtieth contestant in this tournament. He arrived later than most, but fairly won the duel against his opponents, and so, he, too, will make it to the second stage of the competition.” The whispers mounted, Emmeline’s ears buzzing. A clatter resounded against the marble, a repetitive squeak tightening her nerves. “In pursuit of equality among the Fates, he is also available to place your wagers on. So, as many of you requested, we have granted his attendance tonight. But given his unstable history, we thought precautions were necessary.”

Snickers hid behind hands and eyes widened. Attention flocked to the right of the dais. Lola’s face paled, and Cyren gripped her shoulder as if keeping her seated.

Emmeline couldn’t see what everyone was looking at from her seat, but her body was numb. Her chest pounded a war beat, visions of constellations freezing and bending a cacophony in her mind. The mural of the Fates’ Dawn spinning.

She pressed shaking palms to the table and rose, leaning forward.

And she nearly screamed when she saw Roremar⁠—

Within a cage.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Emmeline

Roremar looked at her through monstrous silver bars fit to hold animals, not a man. Disbelief and laughter tangled among the crowd, shock at the sensation he made rippling over the room.

A sensation. That was exactly what they’d made him. A show, just as she was, but where Emmeline was esteemed, Roremar was scorned.

All because a Fate had stolen his will.

Emmeline held Roremar’s stare for only a beat before Rocarri’s voice broke in, and with it, memories of his threats.

Stay in line, Emmeline.

She forced herself to resume her seat, staring out over the crowd as she lifted her sparkling wine to her lips, but she felt that familiar silver inspection burning into her.

“Our final competitor is rare indeed. He holds the only known Fate tie to the Dead Fate. He has become a threat and a danger to the greater public.”

Emmeline nearly shattered her glass. It wasn’t Roremar, and she’d told Rocarri that.

The Chancellor held up a hand to calm the rumbles of concern in the crowd. “This tournament will be his trial, his sentence decided upon by the will of the Fates over the coming weeks. Tonight, this cage is the safest decision for us all.”

Allow his attendance in a way that comforts those concerned. That’s what she’d overheard in the tunnels today. Rocarri’s companion had been suggesting this?

Fates, she was going to throttle Balmour Rocarri if he didn’t shut his mouth and stop feeding the public’s fear.

But tonight, she’d behave. She forced herself to be present. Forced herself not to look at Roremar lest anyone see the pain in her eyes.

All through the six-course meal, haunting music carrying on the air. Beneath the view of the Fates’ Dawn mural, she didn’t break. She didn’t allow herself to ensure they were feeding him. Didn’t inquire about his status whatsoever.

She only allowed the wall she spent so many years hiding behind to solidify once again. And only protected from view would she crumble.

For Roremar’s sake, she had to pretend he was nothing to her. And Fates if that didn’t make her realize exactly how much he truly was.