Chapter 22 #2
Emmeline thought back over their few interactions. While Perry was flirtatious, he’d made no move to sway her. Perhaps it was because none of them had a say in who she bonded to—the tournament decided—or maybe he was telling the truth.
Everyone in this city had a motive. Maybe Perry wanted something from her, but he didn’t want her.
The melody picked up again, and Perry spun her back to her feet, narrowly dodging other dancers with perfect precision. The mystlights and silver ornaments blurred overhead.
“You’re a charmer,” Emmeline deadpanned.
Perry whisked her around. “We can help each other.”
“How?”
Perry led her through the steps effortlessly, but he dropped his voice as the couples around them pressed closer.
Her throat tightened at the pressure, as skirts swept against her ankles and eyes burrowed into her, but she forced herself to focus on Perry’s earnest words.
“I’ll get him through this tournament if he swears not to off me when we’re the final two. ”
Her heart rate quickened at the promise. “How can I believe you won’t turn on him?”
“You don’t have another choice.”
“Why would you offer that?”
Perry’s throat bobbed as if the next words were painful to admit. “I have things I want to do in this life that don’t involve being bound to you, but I can’t do them if I’m dead.”
“But you winning means you and I will be forced to bond.”
“That’s the part we have to figure out.” He winked, his playful, unaffected demeanor returning as the music shifted into a second song.
Panic sprouted in Emmeline’s chest at the impression they’d be giving by dancing twice in a row when she’d avoided that with everyone else, but Perry didn’t release her.
“And I’m willing to bet Roremar the Reckless can help us with that puzzle. ”
Emmeline stiffened at that choice of words—at how much he seemed to know of the two of them. Only desperation would cause that much investigation.
“There’s something else you want,” Emmeline challenged.
“I knew you were smarter than you acted earlier.” Emmeline opened her mouth to snap back, but Perry’s voice pitched lower, his lips dropping to her ear.
They probably looked like they were in the middle of an intimate conversation.
“Haven’t you ever wondered why everyone has really forgotten the Constellation Isles? ”
Emmeline pulled back, wariness slowing her steps. “What?”
“I’m curious, and I think we can work together.”
The isles had been forgotten for as long as anybody remembered. They’d been left to their own devices by all Gallantian Warriors, only called on when armies or rare supplies were needed. Not a part of the continent but a tool for it.
And truthfully, since Emmeline had arrived here and been swept up into this tournament, she thought perhaps they were better off. But if Perry was offering this chance, she had to consider it.
It went against everything in her being, but she might have to trust him.
“I’ll think about it. For now, don’t let anyone hurt him, and don’t tell anyone of this conversation,” she threatened.
“As I’d expect.” Perry chuckled, giving her a promising nod.
The second song was in full swing now, and he guided her seamlessly around the dance floor. With every spin, her eyes found that cage across the room over Perry’s shoulder. With every glance, her skin heated more, her heart shredded further.
Roremar’s eyes were locked on her. His hands gripped the bars, anger bleeding out of him even with the distance. It wrapped her own bones, clawing through her chest with the pressure of a thousand dying stars.
It was possessive and longing, and every passing moment only made her breaths come shorter. Her eyes sting more.
She needed—well, Fates she didn’t even know, but she couldn’t breathe.
“Excuse me,” she barely forced out as the last notes of the song trickled to a close.
As casually as she could manage, Emmeline floated to the balconies, walking past the curtain-framed doors until she found an empty terrace. The pane stuck when she turned the handle, the polished silver cold beneath her palm, but with a little force, the glass panel shuddered open.
Emmeline flew onto the balcony, bracing her hands on the stone railing and tilting her face to the stars as she took heaving, ravaged breaths.
“Why?” she exhaled, staring down each of those twelve constellations she’d commanded.
Why had they done this? Why had they made them fall for one another when this was their fate? Why had they led her to believe she could bear all those wounds—that he could, too—only for them to be ripped apart?
Were she and Roremar ever meant to be together, or would this longing grip her heart for the rest of her life?
Was a show all they’d ever be?
And that ever-present question: What did Dryvius want with him?
The door rattled open behind her. It swung closed softly, and she blinked away the tears lining her lashes as boots thudded against the stone.
A hum of awareness—of familiarity—beat across her skin as the newcomer stopped beside her, her magic slithering protectively around her heart.
And when Emmeline turned to face him, she gasped. “Temple Master.”
Aldryn Falliare inclined his head. “Hello, Emmeline.”