Chapter 26 #3
“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.”
“The tie still exists. I can feel it,” Roremar said. “I even read tonight. It’s there but different…dormant.”
“Has that ever happened before?” Emmeline asked.
“Not like this. Before, he was quiet for long stretches of time.” Fates, he’d loved when Dryvius left him alone.
It had always been a reprieve. This, though?
This was ominous. “Tonight looked like an entirely different realm—some cursed dinner party gone wrong—not just the starfire and normal stars. But he didn’t say a damn word.
It’s like he’s ignoring me. What if it’s because he doesn’t need me anymore?
He has someone else, so he’s using them instead? ”
“My Fate ties feel dormant sometimes,” Desmond assured him. “When Aevollon or Arenothos is being extra needy, the other goes silent. I don’t think he’s abandoned you.”
Roremar wished he would.
“Which means he probably isn’t controlling someone else,” Emmeline said. “Magic is finite. It abides by the Balance of Power. He can’t create more to control other minds.”
Roremar sighed, not appeased. “Then what in all the Fates’ fucks is happening?”
No one had an answer.
“I’ll read about it,” Emmeline finally said, defeated. “But ever since the seeing chamber, my magic has been overwhelming. It’s harder to control than before and even harder to get straight answers.” In a frustrated grumble she added, “They’re more insistent than ever, though.”
“Mine’s been acting up, too,” Desmond said.
“Why don’t you try working on it in controlled environments? The two of you,” Roremar suggested.
Emmeline looked like she was about to argue, but she released a slow breath. “Okay.”
The fact that she agreed so quickly told Roremar how bad it really was. And how desperately she needed to feel in control of her magic.
“Keep an eye on Falliare and get me whatever other information you can. I’ll see what I can put together while I’m stuck here,” Roremar said. At least it gave him something to contribute. In the meantime, he’d keep trying to read the Fate of Chaos and Revelry.
“So, we have a lost Dead Fate tie, mysterious rituals your uncle is attending, and this tournament-turned-bonding ceremony to combat?” Desmond asked.
“Quite simple,” Myrella said sarcastically.
“Unfortunately, I don’t think any of this will be simple ever again,” Emmeline said. Turning to Roremar she added, “See how you feel about Perry.”
He scoffed. “That tool?”
“Someone’s jealous,” Lola snickered.
Roremar didn’t hesitate to admit, “Yes. Did you see the way he looks at her?”
“He doesn’t want me,” Emmeline said. “But he proposed an alliance. I don’t know if I trust him, but it’s your choice.”
The way she said it had warmth flooding through him, like they were still a team.
He agreed, and with some semblance of a plan, they headed back toward the door. Before Roremar could sneak over the side of the building to climb back through the window, he grabbed Emmeline’s hand.
Her hazel eyes found his, and so many unspoken words hummed along the thread that bound them. A maelstrom of emotions he could practically feel from her, thunderous truths he longed to tell her, ripping up his throat.
But there was also so much pain in her eyes, like his touch was putting her through agony.
So instead of saying any of it, one finger at a time, he removed his grip and stepped back, leaving a part of his soul bloodied and branded on the space between them. “Sleep tight, Huntress.”
Nodding, she whispered, “Be safe, Reckless.”
It wasn’t until he was lying in bed hours later, the notes from Desmond stashed beneath his mattress with the incense he’d stolen, Perry, Rian, and the others snoring soundly while Khasson was off at some pleasure house, that he tried again to reach for Dryvius.
Still, he received no response.