Chapter 22
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.
She didn’t venture over to the cage until the dancing was in full swing.
She’d given them a handful of dances, upbeat pieces with a smile plastered on her face, each with a different competitor, and a number of conversations with governors and contestants alike before excusing herself to get another glass of sparkling wine.
Starsearchers spun gracefully around the room like they were pulled on strings, as if the Fates overhead were puppeteers guiding them through each deadly waltz. Rich silk slid over marble floors and laughter peeled from women’s lips when they were dipped and twirled.
Gems adorned their wrists and necks, and trains of feathers or beads or velvet lingered in their steps.
With the music lacing the air and the celestial decor in arrays of deep blues and purples, beneath the chandelier and the story of the Fates’ Dawn, it was a scene from a fairytale she’d dreamed of as a girl.
But it was all wrong.
Twisted and taking a forsaken piece of her to be here. The smiles held pointed teeth that wished to rip into her skin, and the diamonds were shards of broken glass poised at her throat.
And she would bear it, this haunted, dark fairytale she’d found her way into.
Finally, with an air of boredom, she approached the silver bars, appraising their sturdy build and the intricate carvings lining the base.
Her stomach flipped when she realized they were constellations—all those linked to Dryvius, telling a tale of the Fate of Chaos and Revelry, the arch of his Major constellation forming the top of the cage.
She didn’t look at him, though.
Couldn’t.
Fighting to keep her mask in place, Emmeline gazed out the window beside Roremar’s cage, staring blankly over the city as she hummed along to the string quartet at the other end of the room.
“They’ve fed you,” she commented, voice low.
He scoffed. “They can’t be seen starving their pet, or the searchers betting on me will scream it’s unfair.”
“There’s people betting on you?”
“That’s what I’m told. Probably fanatics of Dryvius or other, similarly deranged freaks.”
Though Roremar’s skepticism of the Fates was clear, it was good he had support. It meant Rocarri had to treat him at least somewhat well in the public eye.
It was a soft balm to one worry, but soothing one only left room for more to sprout.
“Have they given you any information about the second—”
“The trials aren’t really my priority,” he bit out, voice closer than it had been a moment ago; close enough to touch. But she knew if she did, it would be nothing like last night. Not the intimacy, not the burning desire.
It would feel too much like a goodbye she wasn’t ready to say.
“They need to be,” Emmeline asserted. “I’ve been told nothing of what to expect from the next two, but I think the duel was only a set up.
” And according to what Anphrosia said today, the Fates couldn’t give her any information either.
She swallowed the fear lodged in her throat.
“The duel was an easy solution to get so many contestants out in a clean sweep. The real challenges are coming.”
“I’ll worry about them when they come,” Roremar said.
Emmeline swallowed, looking up at the high drapes framing the window, fingers tightening on her wine glass. “I’ll find out what I can. Have Lola get you the information somehow.”
“Why not yourself?”
Dammit, there was a hint of his sleuthing tone in that question. She knew if she looked, he’d be giving her that narrow-eyed stare that picked apart all her deepest wounds.
“They keep me rather busy,” she lied.
“Right.” His dry tone implied he wasn’t fooled, even if he didn’t know why she was avoiding him. “Lola needs to stay safe, though. I can’t—” He cleared his throat. “Nothing can happen to her.”
He couldn’t lose another one of them.
While he thought it was best for his family if he died, he still clung to their safety from afar. He hadn’t entirely given up.
“I’ll keep her safe.”
“Thank you,” Roremar said.
Even though she shouldn’t, she liked that while Roremar also wanted to protect her, he trusted her to watch over Lola. He thought of her as a partner. Their time working together on Lyra had forged them into a team.
The music deepened, long slow notes dragging over her skin.
For a moment, she stood there, looking out the window at the stars high above, flicking in their rearranged constellations and spelling out tales she’d never dreamed of.
In his cage, she knew Roremar did the same, talking to the stars from behind silver gilt bars.
And she wondered if that’s all their own story was ever meant to be. If they were not the fated fairytale in this ballroom but the cursed. If she was always to be a pawn for her power while he was scorned for his.
The consideration splintered through her, ripping at her scars one by one.
She whispered, “I should get back.”
Before she could walk away, Roremar asked so softly, he could have been talking to the stars, “Why won’t you look at me?”
And finally, she cracked. Barely turning her head, Emmeline flicked a glance out the corner of her eye. Her teeth sank into her bottom lip as she met his silver stare, as passion and longing bled from it.
And she whispered, “Because we’re only ruin.”
Setting her glass on the window ledge, she turned and wove between the tables back toward the dance floor.
She was only feet away when Roremar called after her, “I won’t rest, Huntress. I meant it.”
Because now I won’t rest until I get you back.
She stiffened as the memory of kissing him crashed over her, and the pull that forever lived in her chest dug its hook in and tried to drag her back. To sate the need the stars had woven within her.
But she didn’t give in, didn’t turn around. Didn’t stop until her toes met the edge of the dance floor, prepared to stumble back into her nightmare.
“Collect yourself,” a familiar voice whispered in her ear.
Emmeline jumped, more easily shaken than usual. “Perry,” she greeted. “Can I help you?”
“You’re lucky they were playing such a raucous song when you snuck away.”
“I needed a drink.”
He scoffed, shaking his head. “No one important noticed where you went, but they would have soon.”
Emmeline maintained her disinterested tone. “What do you mean?”
“Be smarter, Emmeline.”
“He isn’t dangerous,” she said, indignant.
“Truthfully, I don’t care if he is.”
The music paused, couples swapping on and off the floor, men turning toward her.
As the wolves descended, she briefly wondered which she’d overheard with Rocarri today.
Which had suggested Roremar’s cage? She hadn’t placed a voice, but she’d been far enough away and under enough duress that she wasn’t positive she’d recognize it.
While she knew she should speak with more of them, that strangled, trapped feeling returned.
Emmeline needed to move, needed to make her own choice.
She faced Perry, assuming her most charming smile—a tainted lie. “Dance with me.”
He matched her grin, holding out a hand with a meddlesome glint in his eye.
She didn’t look back at Roremar as she placed her hand in Perry’s. Her guard was up, but the favored competitor led her onto the dance floor, and as the slow ballad picked up, he spun her gracefully between the other couples.
“What did you mean when you said you didn’t care if he’s dangerous?” Emmeline asked, voice low as Perry’s hand rested at a respectful height on her back.
He laughed. “I know what you truly want from this competition. It’s not one of us fools spinning you around a dance floor and murdering one another for your hand.”
Emmeline’s skin prickled at being so exposed, but she gave him a skeptical look. “You care what I want?”
“You won’t trust me, but in a way, I do.” He dipped her, Emmeline’s hair tumbling around her as the music paused on a dramatic beat. “And believe me or not, I don’t want you.”