Chapter 53
Chapter Fifty-Three
Roremar
“You what?” Roremar growled, Rocarri’s words echoing in his ears. “You threatened Emmeline? With me?”
“Not directly.”
Roremar pushed off the bars and stepped closer to the Chancellor, entering the cell. “Seems like a pretty poor threat since I’m already meant to die. What with the murders I’m being accused of and the men in the tournament who want to kill me.”
“Trust me, I’ve told her it’s the will of the Fates.
She doesn’t see it that way.” Rocarri placed a hand on Roremar’s shoulder and pressed him back, turning them so he could step around him toward the door.
“Miss DeLeoste still believes in you. Fates only know why, but I have my suspicions. And I’m curious enough about them that I won’t push the Fates further if she stays in line.
But the other competitors?” He tutted. “I’ve made it clear to her that if she favors you, she’s only killing you faster. ”
She was pushing him away, allowing Rocarri to manipulate her and control her future, to save his life. Not because he’d ruin her or they weren’t good together or she didn’t want him. Not because she needed her new status to find her sister.
But to save him.
How hadn’t he seen it earlier?
Because it was the one thing Roremar never thought was worth it—his life. He didn’t think his survival was even on the table. He’d accepted his death long before he was thrown into the arena.
No matter how much he swore to everyone that he was trying—and he was—there was still that part of him that didn’t see how he could move on.
But anger churned through him, too. Anger at the Chancellor, punctuated by frustration with Emmeline.
She should have told him.
It sacrificed both of them. It ruined both of them. They should face it together, no matter what Rocarri threatened them with.
“I see you have a lot to consider,” Rocarri said from outside the bars.
Why was he telling Roremar all of this now? What was he getting out of the turmoil? Was it as simple as drawing a line between him and Emmeline, influencing Roremar to fully let her go?
He didn’t voice those questions. They’d be exposing too much. But as the Chancellor left, not bothering to shut the door to the cell, Roremar called, “Why don’t you kill me and be done with it?”
The Chancellor looked back, the light from the end of the hall shadowing his features. “If you still think I want you dead, you aren’t as smart as you seem, Reckless.”
When Rocarri’s footsteps faded, Roremar sank against the wall. Thanks to the Chancellor’s mockery and schemes, he’d walked right back into this cage. Only this time, Balmour Rocarri didn’t lock the door.
Roremar did that all on his own.
Emmeline really was trying to save him. She’d promised she would, but in his grief, he hadn’t realized how far she’d go. He’d thought he’d lost her for good.
If people knew what she was doing, it would ruin her. They’d sing songs of her death the way they did his. She’d never find her sister.
“No,” Roremar swore.
No, he wouldn’t let that happen.
Shoving up from the floor, he found the loose stone in the wall, the one he’d carefully pried out overnight and worked back in.
He pulled out the reading supplies Khasson had delivered for him. Two favors, he’d asked of his ally. One, get him to the vineyard party to see Emmeline. Two, retrieve the items from under his mattress.
Repercussions be fucking damned, Roremar was going to force Dryvius to speak with him.
He inhaled the oil, the spice shooting straight into his veins like the strongest hit he’d ever taken. It was Fatesdamned euphoric, his magic purring through his blood at the freedom.
He was sent back to that red-tinted stone chamber he was certain was the Fate Realm, the overturned tables and shattered glass painting the ground. Tattered deep-plum curtains wafted in front of broken windows, the landscape beyond impossible to make out.
Spilled wine splashed beneath his boots as he turned in place, face tipped toward the stars.
“Dryvius!” Roremar shouted. His head spun with the force of the reading.
The name echoed on the empty air.
“Dryvius, you fucking coward! Talk to me! What do you want?”
His words emptied into the void.
He yelled, again and again, threatening and insulting and begging the Fate.
Roremar didn’t know how long he stood there and screamed, but no one answered. Not the Fate of Chaos and Revelry, and not any other celestial being.
Eventually, his limbs grew heavy, his vision wavered, and Roremar fell to his knees in the puddles of wine. He squeezed his eyes tight, and the images came. First, visions of Nico. Then of his dad. Both on the brink of death but looking at him with a stain of betrayal.
Then, it was his sisters.
And Leo.
And his mother.
Desmond.
And finally, Emmeline. The two of them, ripped apart. Her tear-streaked face and his self-loathing at putting those tracks there. An eternity forever cleaved in two.
They played on a loop, moments he cherished and some he thought hadn’t even happened. His mind pulled at each, fine silk threads unspooling through history and fortune. They tugged until he thought he was going mad, until it felt like the very matter of his brain was unraveling.
Then, when he didn’t know how much more he could take, a chuckle rolled through the air like a panther’s purr.
The strings of everything he loved pulled and pulled.
It was Dryvius. The Fate picked through his mind. Tampering. Manipulating. Owning.
The memories shifted, every scene bloodstained. Each of his siblings screamed in pain.
“Leave me alone!” Roremar growled.
Dryvius hummed in response, his presence a lyrical taint seeping into Roremar’s being. The Fate’s amusement rippled down his bones.
“I swear to you,” Roremar said through gritted teeth and watery eyes. Head tipping to the stars, he found the constellation that had been carved from the sky for so long, and he panted, “I fucking swear, Dryvius, whatever your plan is, I will figure it out. And you will get everything you deserve.”
Oh, Reckless, Dryvius cooed, his voice so damn familiar, it was a part of Roremar. It is impressive you still think you stand a chance.
“I swear—”
Don’t you see? Footsteps echoed as if the Fate was in the dining chamber with him, boots crunching over broken glass.
But Roremar couldn’t see him. He was alone, yet Dryvius’s next words came from just before him, a rich fruity scent on the air and his breath close enough to warm Roremar’s chilled skin.
No one believes you. No one will listen. Dryvius hummed again in amusement, the sound traveling down Roremar’s spine. You and I are not that different after all.
“I am nothing like you.”
A smooth huff of glee. You may think that now, but you will see. We are the same. Dryvius paused. My victory is inevitable.
Roremar’s nails dug into the stone ground until he thought they’d crack. “And so is your ruin.”
The smirk was clear in the Fate’s next words. Then let the games begin, shall we?
“Rore!” A sharp sting rang across Roremar’s cheek. His head jerked to the side, and the reading dissolved, the connection with the Fate severing.
His eyes snapped open, and he rocked upright, panting, shooting pain beneath his nails from where he’d clawed the stone.
Desmond crouched over him in his cell, a full moon shining outside the window now. “Thank the fucking Fates.” Desmond sighed. “Thought you were unconscious.”
“I was reading,” Roremar answered, shaking his head.
“What? Why? How?”
He ignored the first two, not wanting to get into the explanation of what Rocarri had told him. “Don’t know how, but the fucker finally answered.”
“What did he say?”
Roremar swallowed the memories, the threats. “Nothing good.”
Desmond eyed him. “Are you okay? Can you feel him?”
Tentatively, Roremar inhaled the incense still lingering on the air. Desmond looked prepared to slap him again if need be.
But nothing happened.
“Same as it was before.” Roremar dragged a hand down his face, rubbing his eyes. That reading was short but powerful enough to drain him. “He’s there—he’s always fucking there—but he’s blocking the tie somehow. I bet that’s why the poison didn’t affect me the other day.”
“You still want to be kept out of everything we’re doing, then?”
Rocarri’s revelations echoed in his memory, along with Dryvius’s taunts.
Roremar had been in the dark these past few weeks, and it was getting them nowhere.
Maybe if he hadn’t been so fucking stubborn, he’d have figured out why Emmeline was staying away from him or why his Fate tie wasn’t affected in the poison trial before everything got so dire.
He already did the most Reckless thing of all by allowing Dryvius back into his mind. Why stop now?
“No,” Roremar said, pushing to his feet. “What’s going on?”
Desmond held the unlocked door wider. Fuck it, Rocarri was already aware he was sneaking out and didn’t seem to care. “Guards will be gone for a while, thanks to Myrella. Let’s go.”