Page 137 of Scars Beneath a Serpent’s Scales

“As if I would ever kill innocent women.” Under his breath, he added, “Let alone ones tied to Anphrosia.”

Emmeline didn’t know why he worded it that way, but her patience was growing thin. “The evidence was there! I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I suspected you. It was an awful accusation to make, but I don’t know you well. It was easy to think you had an ulterior motive.” Her chest rose and fell from the force of those words. “What else do you want me to do?”

“Stop being immature,” Roremar said to Desmond when he didn’t respond. “Come on, Des, she apologized. Even you admitted how the evidence looked. You have the two Fate ties for fuck’s sake.” He dragged a hand through his hair, groaning when Desmond remained impassive. “There’s a murderer on the isle still. You don’t need to be her friend but if you want to stay in this room for a second longer you need to respect her enough to stop being an ass.”

Desmond’s jaw ticked. After a long, stilted silence during which he and Roremar didn’t break eye contact, he finally conceded, “Fine. I’ll be back on this team to help you, Rore.” His stare shifted to Emmeline. “But you and me? Whatever this friendship was that was forming? That’s over.”

“Fine by the Fates,” she muttered, sitting back in her chair.

“Okay, Emmeline and Desmond won’t be allowed in a room alone together. Now can we please get on with this?” Myrella blurted, finally relinquishing her self-imposed silence. Nico smothered a laugh in her shoulder at her outburst.

“On a Fate’s fucking grave, please,” Roremar grumbled.

“Tell us about last night,” Nico encouraged, and a slimy sheen coated Emmeline’s skin, her lungs constricting.

As if sensing it, Roremar’s eyes met hers. A thread wrapped around her chest, warm and soothing, and Emmeline swore there was a gentle tug at the other end. Forcing down a breath, she nodded at him.

And Roremar told them the whole story. Not all of her past, but the events at the Mezzanine and what the Snake Charmer disclosed. Myrella scooted her chair next to Emmeline as he spoke, wrapping an arm around her that was surprisingly comforting. Even Desmond didn’t have any smart comments.

“Plants?” Nico echoed when Roremar finished. Emmeline sat straighter at that part, too. She’d been too exhausted to ask Roremar to repeat any of this last night.

“Supposedly seeds,” he confirmed. “I’d say it’s a safe bet whatever they’re planting is responsible for the tainted drugs on Lyra.”

“That would make sense. We know it’s not the ink in those shipments that’s tied to the murders,” Emmeline said with a furtive glance at Desmond who—to his credit—only nodded in agreement. “Though the culprit still has to be getting their ink from somewhere.”

“Stole it, most likely,” Desmond reminded them. “I did come up missing a few vials after the break in.”

“Right,” Emmeline agreed. “I hadn’t thought about what else could be smuggled in those crates.”

“Does that mean there’s a whole group involved in this?” Nico asked, gently rubbing Myrella’s shoulders as she sat in wide-eyed shock.

“It’s possible, but I think there would be more people missing if there were,” Roremar affirmed. “My best guess is that whoever’s pushing the drug problem is relying on these seeds, so they’re the ones moving them and distributing them. But I’d bet the person responsible for the murders is capitalizing on the seeds already being here.” He blew out a rough breath, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. “For whatever they’re capable of.”

“Seeds could mean it’s related to incense or oils for readings,” Myrella said.

“Multiple of the women visited Viperous Vices before they died.” Emmeline bit her lip as the theory contorted before her. “If we can figure out what the seeds are, we can trace the products.”

“I went through the records of all the victims’ purchases while you were sleeping,” Roremar said, digging through the mess of blankets on the chaise and pulling out a file.

Emmeline shuffled across the room to sit beside him, eyes immediately going to the items he’d circled in bright red ink. “They’ve all purchased mint?”

“It’s one of the few things all orders included. We dismissed it because it seemed unrelated to readings.”

“It’s not a common source. And they didn’t buy it in oil or incense form,” she agreed.

“You think the seeds were in the soil itself?” Desmond asked.

“About the only thing I can come up with.” Roremar dragged a hand through his hair, pursing his lips in thought. Emmeline watched the flex of his fingers as he placed his palm back on his knee, pinkie absently brushing hers. Tingles erupted through her body at the touch.

“I can go speak to the shopkeeper at Viperous Vices if you need me to,” Myrella offered.

Nico immediately frowned. “Don’t like that idea.”

She shoved his shoulder. “I don’t have an Anphrosia Fate tie. It’s safer than Emmeline going, and I know you can’t today.”

Nico opened his mouth to argue, but Roremar said, “Thanks, Myrella, but I wrote to her already asking about what’s been in their recent shipments. I doubt they’re even in yet. Hopefully they’ll be able to get records to us later. I wrote to Darcy, too, to see if his men can grab some mint from the shop while they’re stationed there today.”

The reminder of other people outside these walls had Emmeline’s throat constricting. The Remembrance Revels were in a week. One week to put together these pieces and catch a killer or else not only would Lyra still be at risk, but she wouldn’t get her transfer to Valyn.