Page 135 of Scars Beneath a Serpent’s Scales

“You want to find your sister, and you think she’s in Valyn. That’s what Falliare offered you when this case is complete.”

Biting her lip, Emmeline nodded. She twirled the opal ring around her finger slowly. “I don’t know that she’s there, but with the selection of the new Chancellor, everyone is saying they’ve been calling in powerful Starsearchers for deliberations.” Her features melted into sorrow as tears silently rolled down her cheeks, that stoic facade breaking beneath waves of emotion. She nearly leaped out of the water, clinging to him. “She is powerful, Roremar, and that kind of power garners influence. If they even know a fraction of how much—if they have any control over her still—she’ll be there, I know she will.”

“Okay, shh, shh,” Roremar soothed, holding her. Her head rested on his chest, his arms tight around her shivering frame. Water plastered his tunic to his body, the thin material the only barrier between parts of them.

“I have to find her,” Emmeline sobbed. “It’s been twenty-two years. I have to find her.”

She was begging now, frantic, hands tightening against his shoulders as Roremar pulled back. Hair slicked to her skin, some would have looked like they were drowning in pity. But not Emmeline. Despite the hollowness that had engulfed her, she still screamed with all the power of the stars burning deep within her. It loitered there, a fire waiting for its kindling.

Roremar didn’t know when the match would strike. All he hoped was that he’d be there to see it combust.

“I promise, Emmeline, I will do everything in my power to get you to her.” Gently, he tilted her face up to his to ensure she didn’t miss a word. “We’ll find her.”

And she didn’t say it aloud, but he swore he heard a thank you shuddering through her breath.

Chapter Forty-Three

Emmeline

She woke the next morning to the smell of fresh pastries and the distant scratch of voices.

No, not distant. In the same room, but her head was foggy from everything the night before. It was all a nightmare—the snakes, the mystlights overhead, the jeering voices. Beneath the blanket, she skimmed her hand over the most prominent scar on the inside of her left thigh. The one where fangs hadn’t just sunk in but ripped.

The skin was raw from her picking at it, a sure sign that she hadn’t imagined anything. Though, not all of it was a bad dream.

Talking to Roremar—unloading those secrets she’d kept buried for so long, she struggled to decipher where they ended and her present began—had been freeing in part.

But in a much scarier sense, it had been stitching a rope into her soul. To be that vulnerable, to show that much left her bare and tethered in a way she naturally thrashed against despite the release it offered.

She wasn’t sure what to make of any of it—of him. Sitting there. Listening. Holding her.

Of the ravenous way his eyes glinted at her on stage or the murderous look he’d given the Snake Charmer.

She was certain about one thing, though. In that moment of weakness last night, she’d shared too much. Despite feeling lighter for it, she’d left herself exposed. She couldn’t do it again—couldn’t offer up the final pieces she withheld.

Those she let in ended up dead.

Cracking open an eye, Emmeline forced herself upright. The apartment swam into view, her hair surprisingly not gnarled though she’d slept on it wet. A lingering chill danced along her neck as she ran her fingers through it, and a ghost of a memory floated through her mind. Roremar, combing carefully through the knots after washing her hair, asking her if she wanted it braided. How was he so good at that?

Shivering for an entirely different reason, she grabbed the thick knit blanket draped across the foot of the bed and wrapped it tight around her shoulders, the security replacing Roremar’s touch in her memory.

“We didn’t mean to wake you.”

Her attention swiveled to the chaise where a nest of rumbled blankets made up Roremar’s bed. He waited there, waves in disarray, chest bare and tattoos stark in the grey morning light streaming from the window at her back.

We.

Emmeline blinked, prying her eyes from his. Nico and Myrella sat at the small dining table. And there were in fact pastries spread before them.

Roremar seemed to understand her mind was taking time to catch up. “There was no breakfast here, so I asked Nico to drop by. I didn’t want to leave…” His words trailed off, but her chest tightened.

Her.

He hadn’t wanted to leave her.

This man had taken care of her. I know you’re able to do it all on your own. But right now, you don’t have to. Let me help.

And as she held his gaze, her head canting, she had the forbidden thought that perhaps it hadn’t been the worst thing.