Chapter 59
Chapter Fifty-Nine
Emmeline
“Emmeline.”
She spun toward the voice drifting out onto the balcony from the sitting room. Roremar’s mother, Chrysta, stood in the doorway, a long cotton robe wrapping her frame.
“Chrysta,” Emmeline said. “How’s your head?”
She’d said a while ago she was going to check on the younger girls and get some rest, feeling a headache coming on. By now, the sky was shifting toward dawn, the stars beginning to slip away. They’d been awake all night—the children included.
Roremar had gone to find Myrella to see what tea they could brew for his mother. Apparently she’d recommended a few things to Nico in the past. While they were busy, Emmeline had escaped onto the balcony to speak with the fading stars, Cirre sleeping happily at her side.
The apartment was cramped. Not physically, but emotionally.
There were so many bodies in there all tethered together, longstanding histories creating a web she barely tied into.
The only other one in her position—aside from Perry, who’d dismissed himself a while ago, much to Emmeline’s suspicion—was Myrella, but she’d been easily initiated into the family during her time with Nico.
Emmeline had needed a moment alone. Trying to wrestle with that feeling of otherness no one within those walls pushed on her and yet she couldn’t shake. It was like she was looking at them all through a thin plane of perfectly clear glass. She wasn’t missing a thing, but still she was apart.
She had to get back to the manor. Sneak back into her sheltered bubble with guards at the door. But for a little longer, she wanted to breathe in the peace out here.
They overlooked a private courtyard only those with apartment keys had access to. After the vineyard party yesterday, all the other windows were dark. It was as safe as Emmeline could possibly feel, knowing she’d always be watched.
“The tea helped,” Chrysta said. “I’ll be okay for a bit longer.” Her slippers shuffled across the tile as she moved to the railing beside Emmeline, mug steaming between her palms. The tendrils turned her wan cheeks pinker. “Thank you, Emmeline.”
Her heart clenched. “For what?”
“For all you’ve done for our family these past few months.”
“I don’t know that I’ve done much,” Emmeline answered, twisting her ring. “I haven’t been able to get Roremar out of this tournament despite my supposed status. I didn’t figure out what was happening before Nico…”
“Stopping bad events from occurring isn’t the only way to help.
Sometimes it’s about being present.” Her words crawled across Emmeline’s skin, into the cracks her own mother’s death had left in her heart.
“You’ve stood by us in the darkness that’s followed it all.
You’ve looked out for Roremar—and now Lola, too.
For that, I can’t express my gratitude enough.
” Chrysta looked at her with the same clarity her son did.
She was quieter, an observer, but it was obvious this was where Roremar got his keen instincts, his ability to understand others more than they wanted him to.
If her mother was still here, what would people say Emmeline inherited from her? Would it be the way she walked, the shape of her nose? The sound of her laugh? When she found her sister, would there be traits Roremar noticed they shared?
Emmeline swallowed the lump in her throat. “They’re easy to want to take care of. You’ve raised wonderful children—all of them.”
Laughter bubbled from inside as Siena tried to sneak out of bed. Roremar caught her around the waist, tossing her over his shoulder. Chrysta watched them with an easy, adoring smile, and the pinch in Emmeline’s chest twisted.
Lola strode out of the kitchen, taking her youngest sister’s hand when Roremar set her down. She pulled Siena to the couch and plopped her on the cushion, sectioning her hair out for two braids.
“Is it nice to have Lola back with them?” Emmeline asked, desperate to steer the conversation away from herself.
“It is.” Chrysta peered back at Lola as if memorizing the smile on her face. “Lola’s not close with the younger kids. It’s special to see them together despite the circumstances. Good to see them laugh. It reminds me there are reasons we all go on after tragedy.”
“Siena doesn’t show the distance,” Emmeline observed.
“She wouldn’t.” Chrysta laughed. “Siena loves easily. Leo and Vivienne are more reserved. Less trusting.” She took a sip of her tea, considering.
“Lola changed when Deacon died. They all did, in different ways. Roremar became more serious and focused. Grew into the man you met. As if to balance him out, Nico became softer. He always felt so much, took on the pain of everyone around him. Not with responsibility as Roremar did—wanting to fix everything for us all—but as if feeling it with them would lighten their burden. Losing his father made Nico even more empathetic, and he became my gentle boy.”
A tear rolled down Chrysta’s cheek, her thin fingers tightening on her mug. She smiled softly down at her hands, and Emmeline hung on every word as she bled a mother’s love.
“But Lola? She was always my wild girl—she got that from Deacon—and when she lost him, she became a phoenix born from his ashes. It was like that loss was the reminder that things were so fleeting, and she wanted to fill every moment with as much life as possible. Sometimes it meant great adventure, sometimes quiet peace painting in her studio. She wanted every breath to be about something she loves.”
“She still seems to live that way,” Emmeline said, the words almost choking her. Would her mother speak of her so fondly? What would she say if she saw Emmeline today?
Inside, Siena stood and squeezed Lola to her. Then she gave Desmond a long hug and allowed Roremar to lead her back to the bedroom.
“Roremar is lucky to have you fighting for him as fiercely as you are.”
Watching him disappear down the hall, Emmeline whispered, “He deserves it.”
“He does. He’s taken care of all of us for years, stepped up when he shouldn’t have had to.” Regret layered her voice, and daringly, Emmeline reached out and squeezed her arm.
“He wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“He should never have had to take care of us. I was catatonic when we lost Deacon, and yes, I was physically sick, but I pulled myself together eventually to care for my children. There was simply so much care to be done, I was missing things. I hadn’t even realized how much Roremar was doing to keep us afloat those first few months.
And by the time I did, he was too committed for me to talk him out of it. Or that’s what I thought.
“He looked at me, heard my ragged breaths and saw the life fading from my eyes, and feared losing another parent. So, we became a team instead. But it’s one of my greatest regrets that I robbed him of that youth he wasn’t ready to graduate yet.”
“He’d never think of it like that.”
“No,” Chrysta said with a soft smile, “but I’m his mother. So, I always will.”
Emmeline only nodded, feeling the love deep in her words.
“You have a spot in our family, Emmeline. I won’t pry about what you all may want that spot to be, but no matter what, it’s there.”
Setting her tea on the railing, Chrysta hugged Emmeline, and it was so natural to allow herself to be embraced. To consider belonging here, not in a city where her magic was abused, even if only for right now.
Pulling back, Chrysta smiled and added, “I won’t pry, but I can’t promise my daughters won’t.”
“Pry about what?” Roremar asked from the doorway, stroking Cirre’s head. With the sleeves of the fresh tunic Desmond had given him rolled to his elbows, the Fate sigil tattoos of his siblings were on display, each a reminder of what was at stake.
“Nothing,” Chrysta said, winking at Emmeline. “I’m going to get some rest. I’ll hopefully see you two later?”
“Of course,” Roremar said, kissing his mother on the cheek. Emmeline hoped he wasn’t lying. She never knew what the next day would hold with the end of the tournament looming, with Dryvius’s motives still unknown, with Rocarri’s twisted games.
But Chrysta disappeared inside, and Roremar slipped onto the balcony, taking his mother’s spot.
Except he stood behind Emmeline, bracing his hands on the railing on either side of her.
Soft padding told Emmeline Cirre had jumped up to the roof, giving them privacy.
A breeze wrapped around them, the air bringing the promise of a storm and tangling with the sweet scent of the violets growing in the window box.
“If we haven’t slept, is it technically still tonight?” Roremar asked Emmeline, lips grazing her neck.
The constant fear of someone watching them reverberated through Emmeline, tensing her bones. But so did Roremar’s confession from earlier.
I love you because…
She nodded, eyes drifting closed as she leaned into him, desperate to stay here for another moment. To remember it before she had to give it away again.
“We’re back in the capital.”
“But I think it’s still tonight.” Roremar’s eager persistence warmed her, as did each press of his lips to her skin. His proximity, his voice, his touch…it all drove her wild. The soft kisses had an ache forming between her thighs and an even worse one spreading behind her sternum.
Emmeline spun to face him, crossing her arms as if to stifle it. “It appears we’re at an impasse, Reckless.”
“What do I have to do to cross it?” Roremar smirked, and she knew all he wanted was to get her out from behind her wall. To feel like he had her even if it was fleeting.
“Should I make grand commands or wishes on the stars?” Emmeline teased.
“Do, and I’ll do everything in my power to fulfill them.” His tone was so serious, it stole her breath. It wasn’t their lighthearted banter. This spoke of more. More than she could give him no matter how hopelessly she longed to.
She didn’t want to hide, but his stare saw too much of her for it to only be temporary. And she didn’t want to give him more until she could give him everything.
Emmeline sighed, tipping her face to the fading stars.
Roremar brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, following her gaze. “What are you telling them?”
The hole in her heart from watching his family twinged.
Eyes stinging, stars blurring, she whispered, “What if she doesn’t want me?”
His thumb traced her cheek. “Who?”
“My sister. What if I find her, and she doesn’t want me? What if she’s angry with me for being the reason she was taken?” Tears broke over her lashes so slowly she barely noticed.
Roremar swallowed as her words hit him, as if her fear was a physical blow.
He tilted her gaze down so she couldn’t hide from him.
“I don’t know how she couldn’t want you, Em.
With how much you’ve loved her all these years?
” He bowed his head, his waves dropping over his brow.
“If I could have Nico back for even a moment, I’d be—there’s not a word for that happiness. ”
When he lifted his gaze again, they were only inches apart. Emmeline couldn’t stop her stare from dropping to his mouth. Her breath from hitching at the brush of his thumb across her bottom lip.
“I feel him in every single minute he’s gone—the hurt and the love. You may not have seen her in over twenty years, but she’ll have felt you. She’ll know the love you’ve been pouring into the world for her, seeking her out. She won’t say no to that.”
His words spoke to the fears at the base of her soul.
Her breaths were coming short and fast with each, splintering the game they were playing, reminding her that she desperately wanted all these parts of him she’d seen tonight.
That right here, in his arms, was the one place in the realm she’d ever truly belonged.
Belonged.
“Roremar,” she whispered.
I love you because…
She swept her tongue across her bottom lip, grazing the pad of his thumb, and the slight contact went through her like a lightning bolt.
Roremar tracked the movement, every place his eyes touched igniting. Gently, his thumb swept in the wake of her tongue, and she gasped.
His molten silver stare lifted to hers at the sound. In that gaze was a man ready to break. To bend and bleed and succumb for even a taste of her.
His desperation seeped into the air, along her bones and the very pieces of her soul that had been scarred so long ago. With only a touch and a look, he mended those wrecked pieces and rooted something even deeper within her. Something she’d never be able to remove—something she’d never ask to.
But with the desperation came the fear, the guilt. The knowledge that while she longed to scale this gap between them, she couldn’t be that selfish with his life. His family needed him—that was more evident than ever with their arrival. She wasn’t giving up on saving him yet.
And to kiss him would be acceptance.
To kiss him would damn them both.
As always, Roremar read every heartbroken emotion across her features. He exhaled, the breath across her lips a promise they held themselves in for one more minute, in case it would be their last.
“Not tonight anymore,” he whispered.
Emmeline swallowed. “Not anymore.”
“We should go soon,” Roremar whispered. “There are temple ceremonies with the District Governors today and a sparring competition afterward.”
“And Graves will be looking for me if I’m not ready in time.”
Roremar backed up a step.
Every inch hurt. Emmeline didn’t know how much more she could take before she snapped.
Desperate to grasp onto the rope as it stretched, Emmeline asked, “Would you like to come somewhere with me first?”
He didn’t even blink before he answered. “Anywhere.”