Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
Emmeline
It wasn’t only Emmeline screaming for the Chancellor to take back those words, it was the very core of her Fate ties. Eleven voices protested, magic barreling down her veins and burning like pure starfire.
What did Rocarri mean she would be bonded to the victor? He couldn’t do that—he couldn’t offer her up like a piece of meat.
Emmeline’s jaw popped open to object, but a hand squeezed her wrist, right over the chain holding Roremar’s ring.
Alana.
Had she known? Was this the reason she’d been assigned to Emmeline? To ensure she didn’t dissent? From Alana’s shuttered expression, she couldn’t tell, but her walls slid up even higher than before.
And Emmeline stood there, stunned, every ounce of attention turned toward her.
More than ever—more than the many glamorous dinners in Rocarri’s manor—eyes were on her. Trained on her expression, her body, trying to peel out the magic the entire realm now knew lived beneath her skin. The magic she’d gone to lengths to hide for over twenty years.
Each set of eyes may as well have been a pair of claws sinking ownership into her.
“No,” she exhaled, the breath ragged.
No, she couldn’t be so on display.
Alana squeezed her wrist again, and Emmeline couldn’t tell if it was supposed to be comforting or threatening.
The entire realm was tilting, more so with each word the Chancellor spoke, and Emmeline was already melting beneath the attention.
She didn’t want to give them any more reason to talk, so she trained her gaze on the silver pennants whipping in the wind at the top of the arena.
Expression neutral, posture relaxed, she presented an unflappable mask, as if she’d been in on Rocarri’s plan this entire time.
As if she was content to be the darling they proclaimed her to be and hadn’t just been told she was going to be forced to bond to a stranger.
As if she wasn’t wanted for her magic.
Wanted.
Desired.
Coveted.
Rocarri went on, “I am pleased to announce that not only will the winner of the Races be granted land and wealth that will provide comfort for the rest of any warrior’s days, but he will also be bonded to the greatest treasure of all.
” The entire arena held its breath. “With her comes the notoriety of being the only Starsearcher in history to be tied to all eleven living Fates, and the blessing those Fates will rain upon you.”
Rocarri’s guests muttered. She could practically hear their schemes taking shape.
Wanted.
Desired.
Coveted.
Each word coiled in her chest with her pounding magic, crawled up her throat until she couldn’t breathe.
She’d lived in the shadows for so many years—had hidden her magic and her past from every person that turned her way. And now…now, thanks to the sacrifice she’d made in a failed attempt at saving Roremar, she was exposed.
Coveted.
Trapped.
Kept.
They didn’t own her. Emmeline wouldn’t be small beneath them. Their possession had her sharpening her own fangs.
Dropping her gaze, Emmeline met the eyes of each man in that chariot line, and while her expression remained impassive, she ensured with her stare that they knew she would not be easy, she would not be theirs.
“Given this change of events and thanks to a suggestion by one of your own, we have decided to open up the tournament for new entrants.”
Have decided. As if this hadn’t been the plan the entire time. Parade about their chosen competitors to get everyone interested and save their secret weapon to heighten the excitement. More men, more competition, more diverse wagers, more lucrative advantages for the city.
They were shamelessly using her and her magic to raise the stakes.
“Anyone who is interested in throwing their name into the ring to win Miss DeLeoste’s hand, report to Valyn Council House before sundown tonight. You will be provided more information at the signing of intent.”
Alana’s grip tightened on her wrist, Roremar’s ring digging into her skin.
“Tomorrow, the games begin!”
The drums resumed beating and people scurried about the arena, men already racing for the Council House.
Their excitement was palpable in the air, but Emmeline felt nothing good from it.
Nothing but outrage bubbled in her gut as the arena cleared and music started up in the streets—a celebration of her life being taken from her.
Her chest constricted.
Coveted.
Trapped.
Kept.
Her worst nightmare. The exposure of her magic, the revelation of the secrets she’d clung to. As a consequence, like her sister all those years ago, she was being used for it.
Numbness seeping through her limbs, Emmeline turned from the edge of the podium.
As she made to exit, Rocarri gripped her arm, light enough that no one would think anything of it, but tight enough to halt her. “Might we have a word privately, Emmeline?”
Her gaze flicked down to Rocarri’s grasp, refusing to show an ounce of the fear or annoyance coiled behind her ribs. She certainly had more than a word for the Chancellor, and with how much everyone was already picking her apart, it was best said in private.
“Of course.” She stepped aside, avoiding Alana’s eye. “After you.”
Even when she followed Rocarri to a walkway hidden within the stone arches atop the arena—even with the view of Valyn’s terra-cotta roofs and windings roads now flooded with Starsearchers celebrating beneath open skies—she couldn’t breathe properly.
The thread cinched around her chest pulled sharper with every breath.
“You can’t offer me up,” Emmeline said immediately, not willing to exchange pleasantries.
“I’m not giving you away.”
“It sounds like it. I came to Valyn to teach. For a role at the Academy.”
And to find my sister.
“Initially that was the plan. Until the situation in the seeing chamber on Lyra. Now this is the better option—both for your own good and for the Starsearchers’.”
Emmeline bit down on a scoff. “My own good?”
“Someone with your magnitude of power must be protected, Emmeline. That’s all I’m doing.”
Fates, he was so infuriatingly calm when her life—her future and agency—was being given away.
“I fail to see how this is for my protection.”
“These are not simple warriors entering the Races, dear.” That term of endearment—the same one Falliare had so often used toward her—sent her blood pounding in her ears.
Had the Temple Master known? When he sent her here, had Aldryn Falliare known she wasn’t being offered a position at Valyn Temple Academy?
That warriors would be fighting to win her hand?
One that was already very much given to another, as much as it ever could be to anyone.
Fates, even the thought of bonding to someone else shredded through her.
Don’t you understand, you’ve already ruined me? Her own sobs echoed in her ears, her plea for him to kiss her before he was taken.
His lifeless grey eyes haunted her memory. I won’t rest until I get you back.
Roremar’s ring lay against her wrist, cold pressing into her skin. She let that emptiness ebb off the metal and through her own heart.
“I don’t care who they are,” Emmeline argued, stealing confidence from her vow to find Roremar. “You can’t force me to bond to anyone.”
She turned to leave, but Rocarri called after her, “I think you’ll see I can.” Something in his tone made her freeze. A confidence that chilled her bones and had her begging her Fate ties for a way out of this. “If you don’t, Emmeline, I can’t permit you to stay in my capital.”
Emmeline gripped the stone ledge. Crowds sang through the streets, enthusiasm bubbling through the air as they spilled out of taverns and dance halls, all celebrating her imprisonment.
And somewhere out there…
Her sister.
Her nails dug into the stone. If Rocarri didn’t let her stay, would she ever find Addie? Fates, she couldn’t even be certain she was still in Valyn.
Or if she’d even want to be found now that Emmeline’s name had such notoriety to it. Maybe she was living a quiet, peaceful life somewhere. Emmeline finding her would only put her in danger of being used.
But what if Addie wasn’t safe? What if she was in pain, being tortured or used?
After years of searching and waiting to be transferred, Emmeline had to find her, even if it was only to peer through a window and ensure she was all right.
Emmeline inhaled until her lungs were near bursting. If Rocarri needed to believe she agreed to this bonding for now, let him.
Let him think she was helpless. Let him think she needed his protection. She’d decided when she dove into that seeing chamber and gave up everything to save Roremar that she would no longer hide her ferocity.
She’d wield it. Rocarri’s oversight would become her greatest weapon.
Turning away from the sun-streaked Valyn, Emmeline smiled softly at the Chancellor. “I suppose I don’t have a choice. With my magic revealed, this is best.”
His lips curled at the mention of her magic. “I’m happy we’re aligned.”
There was a threat on the tip of that smile, but Emmeline couldn’t figure out what it was. She would, though. Emmeline would uncover all Balmour Rocarri’s secrets.
“So, the winner will be my…partner.”
Rocarri nodded, mischief dancing across his expression. “You two will be bonded in an official ceremony at the conclusion of the tournament.”
The thought choked her.
Ordinary Starsearcher bonding ceremonies were simple. There were two sets of vows. The first, the Warrior’s Words, was written into every clan’s respective custom.
The second set was personal. It was whatever oaths you wanted to make to the person you loved, overseen by a priestess and the Fates themselves. Then, the two searchers conducted a joint reading, meant to show glimpses of their future together.
No approval of the Fates was necessary for an ordinary bond. No granting of divine intervention.
But for others—for a Fatesworn bond...
Well, those were extremely rare. When two fates were broken from the same star thousands of years ago, spirits filling bodies as they found one another again and again…two souls destined across any realm.
Those, the Fates had to deem true.
Emmeline bit her lip, a voice screaming through her memory, her heart shredding in her chest, bleeding so violently she didn’t know how it still beat.
Shifting away from the Chancellor, she squeezed her eyes tight. Willed the pain to dull enough that she could pretend she was okay with this. For now. To find her sister.
She spun her ring around her finger, cool wind biting at her cheeks and drying the tears that fought from her eyes. “The Fates do not always take kindly to forced bondings.”
“But the Fates do take kindly to you,” Rocarri clarified.
Did they, though? Emmeline was powerful, but she’d suffered so much in her thirty short years to conceal the strength of that magic. Was it truly a blessing? And gift or not, how would it react to being forcibly bonded to another?
Throughout history, there were accounts of bonding ceremonies that ended in unsavory ways when arranged for political, financial, or militaristic advantage.
The majority went smoothly, and while perhaps the warriors involved didn’t love each other, they lived long, content lives together, engaging in whatever private affairs they wanted.
But sometimes, the unions were cursed with misfortune. Sometimes, the Starsearchers lost access to their power altogether.
Not being tied to eleven Fates may not be the worst thing, though. It would be the irony Rocarri deserved, offering her up only for her to become less precious.
A smile bit into her cheeks at the thought, and Rocarri clearly took it for agreement.
“I have a feeling the Fates will bless whatever bonded partner is selected for you. And look at it this way, dear, there will be many competitors entering this tournament for a chance to win your hand. Only the one the Fates deem appropriate will be able to conquer them all.”
“I still don’t understand why they would volunteer for this. The tournament is said to be dangerous, and based on their attire and presentation today, many of the men already have wealth and status. Why suffer?”
“You still don’t see it, Emmeline.” Rocarri braced his elbows on the stone wall, a dubious smile lifting his lips as he looked over his city.
Emmeline’s throat dried at the sight. “See what?” she asked hoarsely.
“How valuable you truly are.”
Valuable.
Not loved, not wanted.
Valuable.
For her magic, for the status and fortune it offered.
Emmeline had always loved her power even though it isolated her. It had been the one constant in her life all those lonely years. Now, a disjointed knot of resentment lodged itself behind her ribs.
This city was supposed to be a promise, a place where she finally found what she’d been searching for, yet she was beginning to feel like all it wanted was to gobble up her value and spit her ruins back out.
“I think I’m beginning to see that,” Emmeline said. Eyes stinging, she turned to leave.
But the Chancellor wasn’t done. “And my dear?”
Emmeline paused, looking out over the revelrous streets of the capital again. “Yes?”
“Next time you want to venture out of the manor, use the front door.” Rocarri patted her shoulder, voice lifting with an amicable lilt. “It’s your home now, too. Don’t feel like you have to sneak around.”
A pit opened in her stomach at his words. He knew she snuck out last night?
Never in all her years had she’d been caught as she crawled through the shadows, but Balmour Rocarri knew. An icy chill slithered down her spine. How many spies did he have watching her? How far did the Chancellor’s reach go, and what would he do with it?
“Well”—Emmeline looked over her shoulder and into the arena, where the twelve chariots still sat, gleaming in the bright sunshine—“the manor is only my home for now. Right, Chancellor?”
“True.” The smile in his voice curled through Emmeline. A waving of a flag, an initiation of a game she never asked to play. “For now.”
That evening, the manor grounds crawled with guests. They stopped her around every corner, asked invasive questions about her magic, and talked to her like she already belonged to them.
Every step Emmeline took, someone waited to taste that value Rocarri had placed upon her name until she had enough of it and barricaded herself in her suite, guards whispering outside the door.
She closed herself in a cage within this promised city, watching her sister get further away, feeling Roremar’s words dulling in her mind, and the walls of her dreams shrank around her.