Page 78 of Revels on an Angel’s Grave

“There’s more,” Lola said.

“Of course, there is,” Roremar answered, leaning back against the roof’s edge and dragging a hand through his hair.

“Uncle Aldryn is here.”

Roremar froze. “What in the everlasting Fates did you say?” he said with lethal calm at the same time Myrella asked, “How did you know that?”

“You know?” Lola looked between Myrella and Desmond.

“Yeah, we know,” Des said. “We followed him into a pretty disgusting situation last night.”

Desmond explained what sounded too much like a ritualistic killing for Roremar’s liking. His mind whirled, but anger lashed through him for another reason entirely. “What in a Fate’s starry-eyed fuck is he doing here? What about our mother? The kids? He’s supposed to be taking care of them.”

“He didn’t say anything of them, but he requested I have breakfast with him tomorrow. I’ll ask,” Lola said, hands fisting in her lap.

“Thanks,” Roremar ground out. There was slim chance of his uncle coming to visit him. He turned to Des and Myrella. “Can you write down everything you saw at the sanctuary?”

Desmond took a small floppy journal from his back pocket and tossed it to him. “Already did.”

Roremar quickly flipped through the pages. Carvings on the chest, incense, the woman tied up. What in all the realms was his uncle involved in?

From where she was reading over his shoulder, Emmeline asked, “The carving wasn’t a star?”

“No,” Myrella said.

“Looked like two symbols and a realm’s worth of Aevollon incense.”

“Not Dryvius, then,” Roremar said, partially relieved he wasn’t responsible.

Emmeline said, “Falliare claimed he was here to negotiate trade agreements.”

“Don’t see how this is related to that,” Roremar muttered.

“Do you think the cloaked people in the sanctuary could be connected to the man who attacked you?” Myrella asked Emmeline.

“Potentially,” she said, chewing her lip. “Whoever attacked me knows about the Lyra murders given that he drugged me with the same flowers Dryvius used. And there was an insignia on the ground.”

Roremar’s stomach bottomed out, and he knew the answer before he even asked. “An insignia?”

Apology deepened Emmeline’s stare as she said, “A winged design.”

“The Warders of Selene,” Roremar said. “But how? I can’t be the one doing this.”

He couldn’t, right? He supposed Dryvius could find a way around anything, but Roremar hadn’t been in the city when Emmeline was attacked.

Still, it sounded so similar, almost as if the Fate of Chaos and Revelry was still controlling him.

“What if we were wrong? What if Dryvius has another Fate tie?” Roremar proposed.

Desmond whistled. “You think he took another mind hostage to attack Emmeline?”

“I’ve been fearing that,” Emmeline admitted. “But I still don’t think your connection would be so strong if there were multiple.”

Roremar dragged a hand down his face. “I haven’t heard him. Since Nico…Dryvius hasn’t spoken to me.”

“Is your Fate tie gone?” Lola asked.

Myrella shook her head. “That’s not possible. Occasionally, someone is born without a Fate tie, but you can’t remove them. When Dryvius was supposedly killed, every warrior with his tie died, too.”