Chapter 57
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Roremar
Despite whatever fresh threat this was about Dryvius being freed by Nico’s death, Roremar couldn’t keep the grin from his face as they crept back through the jungle, Cirre slinking at his side.
He and Emmeline had climbed quickly back to where they’d jumped from and redressed, the panther meeting them on the cliff.
When he sank to his knees and Cirre placed her head on his shoulder, her fur warm and rumbling purr content against his chest, he nearly lost his composure.
He hadn’t realized how badly he’d needed this piece of home.
He had no Fateforsaken clue how she got to the continent or how she found him and Emmeline at Wisteria Falls, but he knew her well enough not to question it. Cirre wasn’t a typical jungle cat, she was intuitive, and that instinct always led her back to him.
Sometimes he wondered if it was because of Dryvius. If the panther could sense the connection to the Fate her species represented; if that was why Cirre chose him, he supposed he had one thing to thank the Fate of Chaos and Revelry for.
The thought soured in his stomach the moment it crossed his mind. The Fate had made him do atrocious things. He had taken his father and his brother, ended their lives at Roremar’s hand.
There was nothing to thank him for.
Dryvius may not have fully died when his constellation was carved from the sky all those centuries ago, but now, as Roremar found those stars peeking through the jungle canopy, he swore he’d be the one to end him.
No matter what it took.
Then let the games begin, shall we?
The brush ruffled ahead, and Roremar tightened his grip on Emmeline’s hand, both of them freezing. Her gaze snapped up to his, and she nodded that she’d heard it, too. As one, they sank into the shadows.
Cirre hopped up into the branches of a nearby tree, lying low on her belly as she watched, tail swishing in anticipation.
Silently, Roremar pulled his sword from his back, listening. The steps were light, shuffling over the fallen vines, but a soft blue glow spilled across the mossy greenery.
A mystlight lantern.
It swung slowly back and forth across the space. Whoever it was was clearly looking for something.
Emmeline stood behind him, dagger in hand as the light ebbed toward them. Water droplets rolled down the back of his neck from the ends of his hair, trailing so slow he swore time stood still.
When the person was within reach, Cirre screeched and dropped from her perch. A male scream bounced off the trees as she tackled him, the two rolling through the brush.
Roremar and Emmeline tore from their hiding place, weapons raised, but Cirre was already sitting on the man’s chest, tail slapping his cheeks with every pass.
Not some random person, but—
“Perry?” Emmeline gasped.
At the realization, Roremar waved a hand, calling Cirre off. She pranced to his side, sitting before Emmeline instead of him. Emmeline didn’t sheathe her dagger as she glared at Perry, but she brushed her fingers over Cirre’s crescent mark.
“Traitor,” Roremar whispered to the feline.
“She has taste,” Emmeline said with a pert smile.
Cirre purred louder.
“That beast is yours?” Perry coughed, still getting air back into his lungs. He pushed upright, lifting his lantern to brush the dirt from his leathers. The light warmed the chill clinging to Roremar’s damp skin.
“In a way,” Roremar said, sheathing his sword and not offering further explanation. “What are you doing here? Did you follow us?”
Before Perry could answer, grumbling and laughter echoed through the trees. Desmond burst onto the path, stumbling to a halt as Myrella grabbed his arm.
“Cirre?” Des asked, gaze flicking to Perry. “What are you doing here?”
“Is that a panther?” Myrella gasped.
“Her name is Cirre,” Desmond explained, searching the ground at their feet like he’d dropped something.
“She has a name?” Awe turned Myrella’s voice breathy as she watched Emmeline stroke the beast’s head. Cirre let out a pleased purr. “I thought Nico was joking…”
“We don’t joke about Cirre, and Perry was about to explain what he’s doing here,” Roremar answered, gaze tracking Desmond as he scoured the ground. “What are you looking for, Des?”
“One thing at a time. Perry,” Emmeline said in an authoritative voice that went straight to Roremar’s cock. He nearly groaned. He didn’t need that right now. Not in the middle of the jungle surrounded by his friends.
“I followed you,” Perry admitted without any hint of shame or scheming. “I lost you all a while back and have been traipsing around the waterfalls trying to find you.”
Roremar forgot all hints of lust at that. “Why?”
Emmeline was stiff at his side, an assessing stare trained on Perry that Roremar didn’t fully comprehend. She clearly didn’t trust him, though.
Desmond crept in circles around their group, searching the jungle path. He snatched the lantern from Perry’s hand, holding it higher to illuminate the earth.
Perry grumbled at Desmond but didn’t fight back. “I visited your cell to see if the guards woke up. They were out cold, by the way.”
“You’re welcome,” Myrella interjected.
Roremar’s jaw ticked, muscles bunching. “Rocarri knows I left today, so I figured I didn’t need to stay around. He’s playing some sick power game with my head.”
Emmeline’s hand slipped into his, and he instantly relaxed.
Fates, he could kill the Chancellor for convincing her she had to stay away from him.
She was so scarred from her past, she spooked easily when it came to intimacy.
Kept running from him every chance she got because this vulnerability petrified her.
With everything he’d learned about her past, Roremar understood why. But he’d meant every word of his confession atop the waterfall. He loved her for those reasons and more, and though she didn’t say it, she showed she felt it, too.
He wasn’t going to let her push him away anymore. Not for real.
After pouring his heart out, he couldn’t lie. He needed her. He loved her, more than the Fates could say. The thread in his heart that was all Emmeline DeLeoste glowed at the acknowledgment.
“Interesting,” Perry mused, gaze on their hands. An amused smile curved his lips. “Well, I heard you saying you were coming to Wisteria Falls. So, I followed.”
“Why not tell us you were there?”
Perry lifted a brow, the silver hoop in his ear swinging. “As if you’d have let me come. Besides, I figured you’d both be rightfully angry with me.”
“Angry?” Roremar asked, stiffening.
“Emmeline here says I’ve been hiding things.” Her chin lifted at Perry’s words. “And you…I didn’t want to mention it at the vineyard party since the others were around, but I thought you’d figured out I was responsible for your run in the other night.”
“My—” Roremar paused when Perry’s gaze flashed down to his ribs. Fury burned through him. “You’re responsible for me being stabbed?”
Tension wound through the air. Cirre’s purrs turned predatory, Emmeline shifted a step in front of Roremar, and Desmond paused whatever he was searching for, the mystlight splaying over their standoff.
“You have sixty seconds to explain.” Emmeline’s grip tightened on her dagger.
Perry toyed with his earring. “I thought you figured it out.”
“How in a Fate’s fuck would we have figured it out?” Roremar barked.
“In the second trial, you and I were the least affected by the poison. You gave me a look when you were talking to Rian that I thought meant you knew it was because of what was on the blade.”
In the fucking trial? When he was waiting for a lethal poison to attack his Fate tie?
“Sorry, I was a little too busy to notice,” Roremar seethed.
“Let me understand. You stabbed him and poisoned him in order to help him?” Emmeline asked incredulously, a voice she’d used often with Roremar when they first met.
“Yes.”
Roremar asked, “How is that logical?”
Perry’s usual grin slipped onto his face.
“First, it made you look weak to other competitors, which I think was an advantage. Especially when it came to Svalla. He didn’t target you nearly as badly as he could have.
Second, the substance on the blade was created to protect your Fate tie.
It was concocted with a drop of the poison Rocarri was administering and other counteracting ingredients.
It had to enter your bloodstream so it could meld with your magic and block Rocarri’s poison. ”
Roremar hadn’t figured out that’s what the poison trial was targeting until well into the trial, though. “How did you know we needed to guard our ties?”
Emmeline’s eyes narrowed on Perry.
“My father overheard what the structure of the task was going to be. I figured if I wanted you as an ally, I should pass it along.”
Roremar scoffed. “And you couldn’t have done something crazier than stab me with a poisoned blade, perhaps like telling me the truth?”
“Like I said, you needed to look weak.”
“Who attacked us?” Emmeline asked.
“Hired some people. They thought I was trying to injure you as a competitor, not aid.”
“So, it’s your fault Rocarri accused me of murder again. You’re the reason he’s claiming I lied about my Fatesdamned tie and is turning even more people against me.”
Perry held up a hand. “I didn’t know you were going to propose a battle to the Chancellor.
Plus, the poison on the blade only made it so that the poison in the trial wouldn’t strangle your Fate tie enough to kill you.
It shouldn’t have blocked all the effects or helped you survive that little stunt you pulled against Rocarri. ”
During the trial, Perry had been faring better than the rest of the men, but he’d still shown signs of being affected.
Roremar had no such experience. Which meant something was still wrong with his connection to Dryvius, especially since he’d been able to drink all twelve antidotes, eleven of which should have harmed him.
Roremar’s stare met Emmeline’s, and he was certain she was working through the same pieces. She shook her head. They’d discuss it later. He saw a thousand theories spinning behind her eyes, but he shifted his attention back to Perry.
“Fuck you for stabbing me.”
“Second that,” Desmond echoed, resuming his search of the jungle floor.
“Fair,” Perry said. “I thought you’d come back to the barracks with a small wound, and I’d patch you up as penance. The best laid plans often get derailed though.”
“De-fucking-railed, indeed,” Roremar scoffed.
“Points of Constellation,” Emmeline murmured, speaking to herself.
“What?” Roremar asked at her sudden change of conversation. Cirre’s tail flicked through the brush, shuffling leaves and tapping his ankle as it looped around.
“In my reading,” Emmeline said. “Serchus called Wisteria Falls a Point of Constellation.” She recounted the rest to the others, Myrella’s brow creasing as she took it all in, but Perry—
That fucker’s eyes lit.
Emmeline watched Perry with fierce hostility as she spoke. “That’s what you’re looking for, isn’t it? You’re curious about the Constellation Isles, too. You said originally that was why you were helping us. Is there some sort of connection to these Points of Constellation?”
“I am curious about the isles,” Perry answered.
He rubbed his chest absently, as if alleviating an ache across his sternum.
“I’ve never heard it referred to as Points of Constellation, though.
” Emmeline’s shoulders drooped, but Perry, clearly trying to be helpful now, added, “My theory is the land on your islands is a similar composition to Wisteria Falls. Stronger magic. I didn’t think it could be a coincidence that was where you were heading. ”
Roremar squinted at Perry. “What do you want with the isles?”
“Did you know we don’t even learn of the Constellation Isles as part of Starsearcher Territory in schooling on the continent?” Perry asked.
Roremar glanced at Emmeline, and she shrugged. “My mother always told me of them. I didn’t attend traditional schooling.”
Interesting that her mother knew enough to teach her. Perhaps she was where Emmeline and her sister inherited the intensity of their magic.
“They’re referenced in certain history books and archives,” Perry explained.
“They aren’t kept a secret, but a lot of modern maps don’t include them.
Like they’re only discussed when you know.
” Perry gave them all a thoughtful glance.
“My grandfather was fascinated by the isles. He visited shortly after his Fatorum Revelus—all seven. And he told unbelievable stories until the day he died. Everyone else thought he was senile, making up fantastical tales in his age, but I listened. I remembered. And Grandfather…he always insisted there was more there. That magic was richer. When you two came along for this tournament, I saw my opportunity to find out why.”
Again, his fingers brushed at his chest. When he shifted, Roremar thought he saw the edge of a scar slicing across his sternum, but the laces of his tunic were tied too tightly to fully make it out.
“This is all for your grandfather, then? That’s why you’re willing to ally with me? Why you fucking stabbed me?” Roremar asked. He wasn’t entirely sold on Perry’s explanation.
Based on her stiff demeanor, Emmeline didn’t seem to be either.
“Inspired by him,” Perry clarified.
Desmond continued to grumble, weaving in and out of the trees so light rippled around them.
“For Fates’ sake, Des. What’re you doing?”
Desmond stumbled back onto the path, holding the lantern high overhead and glancing at Perry. “Looking for something.”
Roremar understood he didn’t want to explain around the other competitor. About to offer an excuse, Desmond opened his mouth, but he was interrupted by a slip of parchment igniting beneath the mystlight lamp. His tattooed fingers snatched it midair and read it.
The ticking of his jaw had Roremar’s entire body on alert. Even Cirre stiffened, the entire jungle pausing.
“What’s wrong?” Roremar asked.
Desmond held up the note. “Your sister says to meet at our apartment as soon as possible. They found another body.”