Page 110 of Scars Beneath a Serpent’s Scales

“No,” Myrella told him, fighting a smile.

“Dammit.”

“Still here, Nico?” Emmeline teased.

“Rore asked me to keep you two company until he could return.”

“Sure.” Emmeline nodded. “You’re here for your brother.”

“I’m here for my brother,” Nico swore dutifully, though he was watching Myrella as if he’d be happy to never look away again.

“What were you reading?” Emmeline eyed the book tucked beneath his other arm.

Nico flipped it in his hand, holding it out to her. Skies of the Fates: A comprehensive guide to constellations of the ages. “I was searching for the symbols the people in the Mourning Gardens were drawing.”

After Myrella had heard his apology, they had found a few Starsearchers drawing chalk constellations on rocks in the depths of the gardens. They’d been well into whatever they were smoking, incense flooding the space, so Myrella and Nico took everything they said warily, but when Myrella showed them the insignia of the Warders of Selene, they’d immediately backed away. Of course, none of their explanations were coherent, but Myrella made note of the reaction and the other drawings. If they’d recognized the symbol—even if they hadn’t known what it meant—maybe there was something to uncover in the rest of their musings.

“Find anything?” Emmeline asked Nico.

Discouraged, he shook his head. “A lot of what they were drawing was just warped versions of constellations of the eleven living Fates—almost like they were broken. I’ve been refreshing my memory about the meaning of each, trying to see if there are any places where the associated stories tie back to Anphrosia, but it feels like a loose connection.”

“There probably wasn’t much rationale to it based on how intoxicated they were,” Myrella agreed.

Sourness flooded Emmeline’s stomach as she chewed over those words, and she gazed into the courtyard and the temple beyond. The stained-glass windows on the second-floor painted stories of the Fates over the stones.

“The quiet the last few days unsettles me,” Emmeline admitted on a low whisper as a group of sixth-year girls wandered by. “It’s only a matter of time…”

A matter of time until someone else is killed.

From the way Myrella’s lips rolled together and Nico swallowed, they understood what she meant. Fear wound through her at the undeniable fact. If they didn’t find the person responsible for these deaths soon, another victim would turn up.

She couldn’t shake the Storytellers from her mind as she watched the students disappear around the corner.

Who would fall next?

“Can I borrow this?” Emmeline asked, flipping through the pages of Skies of the Fates, and Nico nodded.

Slapping footsteps padded quickly up the hall, speeding around Nico and stopping before Emmeline. “Miss DeLeoste?”

“Yes, Brynn?” Emmeline surveyed the boy standing with his hip popped and feigning as much disinterest as possible, though his cheeks were red from running here.

“The Temple Master’s secretary asked me to give you this,” he panted.

The moment Emmeline took the paper from Brynn’s small hand, he was gone, racing back through the corridor, barely slowing when Emmeline and Myrella both called warnings after him.

“You’d think these children were on fire from how they run,” Emmeline muttered, rolling her eyes. But when her attention dropped to the seal on the letter, she froze.

“What is it?” Myrella asked. Her dark hair gleamed in the mystlight as she shifted closer.

Emmeline tilted the wax toward the lantern flickering overhead. “Is that a phoenix?”

Myrella leaned over the page, her expressive eyes widening. She gripped Nico’s hand, pulling him over and despite the intensity thrumming between them, Nico looked elated.

“What is it?” he asked.

“It’s a phoenix and wisteria sigil,” Emmeline reiterated, more confident this time. “And a hound stamped beneath it.”

The faint ink shone as she held it under the mystlight for Nico to see. His jaw popped open, and he leaned closer, arm looping around Myrella. “The War Master of Alvan?” he whispered.