Chapter 68
Chapter Sixty-Eight
Emmeline
The ballroom of the Council House was a glittering masquerade.
As if everyone’s greedy schemes would be hidden by something as simple as the delicate, jeweled-and-feathered masks slipped across their faces.
It was comical that they tried, Emmeline thought as she once again sat atop a dais at the head of the room.
Even from her removed position, it was evident who were nervous families, clinging to their competitor in the tournament, hoping they wouldn’t die tomorrow, and who were the rulers responsible for their torment.
The families’ fear mingled with the stringed quartet, their melodies coated in haunted, plaintive fortunes instead of revelrous mirth.
Fountains of sparkling wine bubbled in a swaggering display of wealth; the swishing of skirts as women spun across the floor was less romantic and wistful and more like they were marionettes jerked around by their strings unwillingly.
And yet, not one of them stood up to Rocarri.
None of them had known the risk their loved ones were committing to when they entered the tournament for her hand. None of them predicted how dire the death toll would turn so quickly.
But that was what happened when you left power unchecked. People thought themselves gods playing with the lives of mortals, when in reality—her gaze tipped to the windows where twelve constellations were still crackling in wild, untamed circles over the city—none of them were above fate.
Emmeline’s gaze landed briefly on the Silventas across the room. On Leo stoically standing beside his mother, sipping from a wine glass she wasn’t sure he was allowed to have. On Chrysta watching Siena and Vivienne dance with Roremar to a tune that scratched against Emmeline’s skin.
On Roremar—her Fatesworn, the other half of her soul—putting on his most blissful facade despite everything he’d been through and would face tomorrow, so that he could entertain his little sisters and show them the capital without his reputation staining their innocence.
His dark grey mask covered the left half of his face, but it couldn’t hide the joy radiating off him right now.
Frustration curled through Emmeline’s depths, but she didn’t let it surface. Didn’t even let her fingers curl too firmly around the stem of her wine glass.
It was all a game.
And they had so much to lose.
Lifting the crisp white blend to her lips, Emmeline took a long sip. She could have invited Myrella as her guest tonight given that every attendee had family present, but she’d wanted to keep her friend as far from all this as possible.
And Myrella was doing her a favor while this show went on.
Cyren caught her eye, speaking to a group of people Emmeline didn’t know. The General nodded, their gaze picking her apart through their ice-blue mask. Perhaps they were wondering if she’d taken their advice and gone to the seeing chamber today. If only Cyren knew what truths she’d accepted there.
Emmeline kept an eye out for anyone who looked out of place. A newcomer she didn’t recognize from Rocarri’s council, a person pretending to be a family member but not engaging with any of the competitors.
Perry spoke with his father and his colleagues, a beaded, emerald-green mask covering the top half of his face, lips cracked in an affectionate smile.
Hopefully he was plying the men with enough liquor to get them to reveal something about the trial tomorrow.
Emmeline still didn’t trust Perry fully—she suspected he knew more than he’d let on—but she didn’t have much choice in using this alliance to their advantage.
Roremar’s other allies, Rian and Khasson, were both leading women around the dance floor, the former looking stiff and uncomfortable, while the latter flowed perfectly in time with each step.
The masks were more of an accessory than anything, but still, no one piqued Emmeline’s interest, nor did any of her Fate ties stir in recognition as she’d hoped they might if Dryvius were near. It was only a sea of jeweled revelry.
“Enjoying the evening, Miss DeLeoste?”
A chill slithered down Emmeline’s spine as Rocarri took the seat beside hers.
His partner was on his other side, her stare glassy as she laughed with a District Governor, both of them in gem-crusted gowns like her own glittering slice of the moon.
Both oblivious to the fear slinking through the room, immune to the pain her partner was causing.
But Emmeline had one last game to play. So, she gave Rocarri her most demure smile, adjusting the delicate silver mask perched across the bridge of her nose, and she drew strength from the new bond beating through her.
“I am, Chancellor. It’s a lovely evening to send off the final event.”
Rocarri’s eye twitched beneath his mask, the wings curving up from either side made to symbolize the strength of the Angel. A strength she couldn’t wait to shatter.
His ensuing silence told Emmeline he hadn’t expected such an obedient answer. His confusion slid a satisfied armor over her skin. She held his stare, waiting for his response, letting the air stiffen between them.
“It is,” he said, considering her. A knowing twinkle lit his eye. “I think tomorrow will prove more expository than any of us have expected.”
“What do you mean?” Her calm facade didn’t falter, but her heart rate kicked up.
“I suppose we will find out.” Rocarri looked out over the dancing marionettes. “I see you’ve started to participate in our tournament as was suggested of you.”
“I’ve always been participating, Chancellor,” Emmeline corrected. “You’ve been looking for the wrong actions.”
She’d been their doll, dragged to every appearance, but she hadn’t been quiet about it. She’d asked questions, made allies, and dug through Angelic secrets buried beneath the city.
Yes, Emmeline had been participating since her arrival in Valyn. Rocarri chose not to see it.
He huffed a laugh, tattooed knuckles tapping the table. His gaze shifted to the windows—to the phenomenon of stars circling above that everyone was buzzing about. “Have you?”
Emmeline hummed, but she swore the stars sped as she looked at them, blurring silver in the skies.
Her magic reacted, the hum tying her to Roremar igniting.
From across the ballroom, she felt his eyes land on her, but though the tether between them pulled tight, a question sliding down it, she didn’t react.
“An odd celestial event, isn’t it?” Rocarri asked. “I haven’t seen something of this magnitude take place before.”
Not even in the tales of the Fate Bound Seekers? She had to stop herself from voicing the question. It exposed too much of what she suspected.
“Odd indeed,” Emmeline said as his gaze drooped over her. She tilted her head, chestnut waves slipping down her back as she watched the sky. “But isn’t so much of what’s occurring right now unnatural?”
Rocarri’s answering laugh bit against her skin like pointed fangs. “Yes, but I feel this one might be useful to us all.”
Useful for a ritual? she asked herself. She didn’t see how the movement of the stars aided his goal to create a Fate with the tournament.
“Be careful with that sharp tongue, Miss DeLeoste. You don’t hide as well as you think you do.”
He pushed back from the table. Before he went, his gaze lingered on her body.
Not on her dress.
But on the necklace displayed over the silver fabric, and the dark steel ring proudly adorning it.
Emmeline waited for him to meet her eye, a silent proclamation made.
The game had begun.