Page 127 of Scars Beneath a Serpent’s Scales

A show.

That was a stage at the head of the chamber.

And along the ceiling, the mystlights didn’t spell out a constellation, but another large writhing serpent, appearing to be made of tiny stars, their lights speckling Emmeline’s skin now.

“Does Falliare know what goes on here?” Roremar asked, even though he wasn’t sure what exactly that was.

Still not looking at him, Emmeline scoffed. “I think Falliare is aware of much more than we assume.”

“What—”

“Ah, Emmeline.” A barrel-chested man wearing a green silk tunic barely tied at his waist strode through the door and up to the bar. A server Roremar hadn’t noticed was already preparing his drink. “I knew I’d see you again one day, my dear.”

Again? They knew each other, very well based on the familiarity. His eyes dripped over her in a way that nearly had Roremar charging at him, but Emmeline gave him a soft shake of her head.

That subtle signal caught the Snake Charmer’s attention, and his eyes flicked over. Dammit, the man even moved like a serpent, every slight motion slithering. Every look threatening. His dark hair was cropped so close to his head, the tattooed outline of a serpent was visible beneath.

“Who are you?” he asked, an intrigued smile on his lips. As if this was all a damn game.

“Roremar.”

Either this man would recognize the name or he wouldn’t. He didn’t need to offer more.

The Snake Charmer only nodded, not giving anything away.

“Well, as I was about to say”—he took his drink from the bar, tunic falling further open as he spun back—“it has been much too long since I’ve seen Emmeline. But it was only a matter of time until she needed something. What is it?”

“Information,” Emmeline declared.

Fates, what were they talking about? Roremar hadn’t known there would be this unsettling familiarity between them. One that felt poisoned with how much her guard had snapped up to come here.

Emmeline had promised not to lie to him or keep secrets about the investigation, which meant her relationship with this man had nothing to do with the case.

It was all personal for her.

And here she was, knuckles white and mask up, ready to enter herself into some kind of torment for it.

Distress clawed up Roremar’s throat as the Snake Charmer licked his lips. “You know the charge, dear.”

“Yes,” Emmeline said, voice cold.

“What’s the charge?” Roremar barked, feet still frozen to the floor in the middle of the room. Normally, he’d act first and deal with the repercussions later, but he knew Emmeline wouldn’t want that.

This entire situation was out of his control, and while he trusted her walking in here, he didn’t realize it would be at her expense.

Didn’t realize how much that would upset him either.

The Snake Charmer ignored him, tongue flicking over the small silver ring through his bottom lip. “What’s your choice?” he asked Emmeline.

Men moved through the third segment of the room—guards maybe, or staff based on their lack of official garb. Lack of any garb, Roremar realized, as some of the dim lights flicked on. Their chests were bare, scars across them and all with a snake tattoo twining around their arm.

Emmeline took a large breath, seeming to calculate something in her mind. As she held the air in her lungs, Roremar’s own chest tightened. Fear and burning fury scorched through him, fueled by her trembling exhale.

“Two,” Emmeline finally said.

Clicks issued from the back of the room, but the mystlights had dimmed again, too low for Roremar to see what was going on. And he sure as Spirits wasn’t going back there. Not without Emmeline.

Her guard was all the way up, her hands inhumanly still at her sides, not even a flinch toward that opal ring. And her eyes were void of any light, any life. She was gone.