Page 95 of Revels on an Angel’s Grave

They needed him—Lola, the rest of their siblings, their mother. He’d taken enough from them already; did he have to be another thing they lost? Maybe there was a way he wouldn’t. With his mind as messed up as it currently was, he couldn’t be sure. But if there was, he’d find it.

“I have this sick feeling Dryvius isn’t done with me.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Lola whispered. “I promise.”

And Fates did it feel good to let himself believe that, to ease that burden slightly.

The door to the sequestering room swung open, mystlights from the hall flooding in and silhouetting the figure in the entrance.

“Glad to see you’re holding it together,” a dry voice said.

“Rian?” Roremar asked.

His fellow contestant held out a hand—a glass of water, Roremar realized as he shifted to block the light.

Roremar took it, rinsing his mouth out and chugging the rest as Lola asked, “What’s happening out there?”

“You’re cleared for now,” Rian said—always a man of many words.

“Oh, thank the Fates,” his sister breathed, throwing herself at Roremar and wrapping her arms around him. But over her shoulder, Rian shut the door. At the swift click, Lola turned around.

“What are you doing?” Roremar asked.

Rian righted the chairs at the table and said, “I need to speak with both of you.”

Chapter Thirty-One

Desmond

Desmond eagerly volunteered to keep tabs on Falliare that night. Not that Emmeline could, given that her presence was required at the evening event for the tournament—a fact they were all very disgruntled by considering there’d been a murder today. Valyn City Guard didn’t seem nearly concerned enough.

Myrella was consumed with deciphering more about the Endasi scroll, and Fates knew Roremar wasn’t getting out of the barracks tonight even though he was cleared of charges. Lola was heading there after Rocarri’s event to keep him company and had promised to take a guard with her.

Desmond, though, would go stir crazy in that tiny room he and Myrella were renting. His magic was restless in this city, and all his thoughts were trained in one direction.

Instead of giving in, he crept after the Temple Master in the slums of the Twelfth District. Among the alleys crawling with mangy animals and people in worse shape, Aldryn Falliare’s prim appearance stood out. He didn’t even bother to hide it.

Desmond scoffed to himself as he followed Falliare past a row of brothels and various dens, shattered glass and the crumbled butts of rolled herbs crunching beneath his boots. He peered into a window at the end of the street, trying not to make it too obvious whom he was stalking.

This one was a tattoo shop with a large crack in the center of the glass. Despite the exterior, there was a crowd inside. All of whom appeared high out of their minds, smoke crowding the low ceilings.

A cart rattled past, stopping to unload some cheap imports at the back door of an apothecary. Desmond shuddered to think what drugs might be laced in those shipments, especially after what they’d seen on Lyra.

Falliare didn’t stop at any of those establishments, though.

He kept on walking to the vineyards sloping down and away from the city, many of the vines bare and untended. Desmond did his best to keep a few rows away without losing the Temple Master, exceptionally wary of being caught.

Shouts echoed from deeper within the vines, but not the kind of a warrior being sacrificed. These were all innocent, frolicking through rows of grapes after a night of drinking, smoking, or fucking.

Fates, he hoped there wasn’t anyone fucking in the vineyard. He didn’t need to see that right now.

Desmond walked behind Falliare for so long, he was almost wondering if their suspicion had been wrong and the Temple Master was wandering aimlessly.

Then he smelled the blood.

He would’ve rather found someone fucking.

Desmond pulled to a stop, nearly gagging over the overwhelming scent. He pulled his tunic up over his nose to get a breath of cleaner air, counting to three. Then, crouching low, he snuck in the direction Falliare had gone, stopping when he could see the scene through the gaps in the vines and hear their voices.