Chapter 51
Chapter Fifty-One
Roremar
He’d lost her.
It was the only thought that echoed through his mind as Roremar watched Emmeline walk away.
The one thing he’d clung to slipped from his grasp, and all he could blame was his Fate tie. Another thing Dryvius had taken from him.
Never mind that Emmeline had bared every scar to him on Lyra. He’d had her so briefly, he could convince himself he never did at all.
He’d been holding on since the seeing chamber, but she said no. For the first time, she explicitly told him she didn’t want him.
So, he let her go.
As soon as she and Perry were gone, he retrieved the cloak he’d stashed behind the well—not wanting to hide from Emmeline—and cut back around the perimeter of the vineyard.
Getting back to his cell took time but it wasn’t a challenge.
His small alliance with Perry, Rian, and Khasson ensured anyone who might cause him problems was still entertained at the vineyards, which only left him to slip past the guards, who were slumped in their seats beside the door thanks to the high dose of valerian root Perry dropped into their canteens earlier.
Roremar was peering into the dark corridor leading to his cell before the sun even set.
But when he got to the barred door, he found someone already inside.
“Who are you?” he asked. His heart pounded as they turned, a cackle ringing in his ears, but— “Chancellor?”
Balmour Rocarri stood in Roremar’s cage, eyes alight. “Hello, Mr. Silventa.”
Roremar crossed his arms, leaning against the bars as if he hadn’t been caught sneaking back in by the man who’d trapped him here. “You’re not at your party?”
Khasson and Rian were supposed to keep an eye on the Chancellor and the other competitors during the vineyard party. Fuck, he hoped they didn’t come here to check on him when they couldn’t find Rocarri. He didn’t want the Chancellor knowing who was helping him. He could handle this alone.
“Imagine my surprise, coming to pay you a visit, and finding your holding cell empty. That was a very reckless decision.”
“If you hadn’t thrown me in here in the first place, it wouldn’t be an issue.”
Rocarri released a low laugh. “You gave me no choice.”
Roremar huffed. “It’s only us, Chancellor. Drop the act.” Rocarri lifted a brow. “I know you don’t think I actually lied about being tied to Dryvius or that I killed all those people.”
“What motive would I have for imprisoning you, then?”
“That’s what I haven’t figured out about you, yet.” It was blatant honesty, but while Rocarri kept his cards close to the vest, Roremar was blunt. He’d laid down the challenge during the second trial. He wasn’t about to hide now.
“So, where were you? Off to see Miss DeLeoste?”
Roremar hated the way Rocarri said her name. Wanted to wipe that smug look clean off his face. But there was a taunt there, and conceding wasn’t in his nature.
“As a competitor, I’m part of the reason this whole festival is being organized, am I not?” Roremar feigned interest. “Figured I should see what all the fuss is about.”
“Is the fuss up to your standards? I know your isle’s Remembrance Revels are much more elaborate than today’s event.”
The mention of the revels grated through Roremar’s chest, the memory of Dryvius’s laugh echoing in his mind, but he schooled his expression. “It’s adequate. Could use a few more games for my liking, better entertainment, but you’ll get there.”
Rocarri chuckled. “I’ll take it under advisement.
” He wandered the perimeter of the cell, the stone damp from the recent rain.
The fading sun cast an eerie glow through the barred window.
“Truthfully, I was surprised to find you’d snuck out.
Perhaps it’s naive, given your reputation, but I thought you’d be here. Just not alone.”
“Why wouldn’t I be alone?” Roremar asked, one brow quirked.
“Don’t insult my intelligence.” Rocarri stopped before him, eye to eye. “You know she’s fighting for you.”
“Who?”
“Emmeline.”
“Please.” Roremar scoffed, rolling his eyes.
Even the sound of her name had his heart pounding.
He could still feel her, hear her soft breaths.
Her telling him to stop. A sour taste crept up his throat.
“Emmeline isn’t fighting for me. She wants me gone—to leave her alone. I’m a murderer, remember?”
Rocarri smirked. “She doesn’t seem to hold it against you. Not with the way she was berating me after your arrest.”
That had his breath stilling. He knew Emmeline told Rocarri he was innocent, but he hadn’t known she was…what? Arguing with the Chancellor? Putting herself under fire to try to prove he was innocent?
Then why had she pushed him away?
“She never told you?” Rocarri laughed, the sound as haunting as Dryvius’s. The familiarity had the hair on the back of Roremar’s neck standing. “Spirits be damned. She is as unpredictable as the Fates.”
“What do you mean?”
“I know how she feels for you, but I suppose I underestimated her. I thought you two were a team, thought she’d repeat all my words right to you.”
She hadn’t told Roremar a Fatesdamned thing about what was going on.
Rocarri added, “Then, I could count on you to do what must be done. But it appears she’s been deceiving all of us.”
Roremar’s blood pounded through his veins, but he didn’t say a word. Didn’t tip that he had no Fatesforsaken clue what the Chancellor was talking about.
His mind was gathering the pieces, slotting them together, little notches clicking into place as the puzzle formed before him.
No.
Fates, how didn’t he see it? The one thing that would stand between them—the reason he kept telling himself he should leave her alone—was the need to save the other.
And a rock sank in Roremar’s gut as Rocarri confirmed, “I told Emmeline that if she wants you to live, she must let you go.”