Page 138 of Scars Beneath a Serpent’s Scales

“Did the Snake Charmer say anything else?” Desmond asked.

Roremar’s head drooped. “He guessed this is about revenge.”

“Against the women?” Nico asked.

But Emmeline, knowing how the man worked, shook her head, fingers curling around the papers. “Anphrosia. He thinks someone is after the Fate of Cruelty and Adoration. And something made these women the perfect choice.”

“Perfect sacrifices,” Roremar corrected.

“Coming back to the cult theory?” Emmeline asked.

Roremar sighed. “Not sure we ever really left it.” He paused, tensing. “The Snake Charmer said something else. Asked me to tell you he hopes you find the Averian.”

Shock jolted through her. “The Averian,” she whispered.

“Who is that?” Roremar asked, the others quietly watching.

“It’s…” Emmeline bit her lip, but Roremar’s soothing words and coaxing hands came back to her from last night, the memories pushing her to trust him. “It’s a name I overheard recently when following a source. With all this, I haven’t been able to learn much more. He was the second-in-command of the traders on the continent.”

And the Snake Charmer knew she was looking for him.

Understanding dawned in Roremar’s eyes. “Do you think he’s saying he’s related to this?”

Emmeline shook her head, mind spinning. “No,” she forced out. “He doesn’t give away information for free, and that wasn’t what we paid for.” Roremar’s jaw ticked at the reminder of her payment. “I think it’s a message from him. That he’s always watching.”

Her skin felt slimy.

She’d thought she’d gotten away when she was seventeen, but he’d found her. No matter where she ran, the Snake Charmer always watched. She’d never told him about her family, but the serpent had beady eyes everywhere. She wouldn’t be surprised if he’d surmised something about her past—if he held secrets no one else did.

The thought of returning to ask him about it had panic digging hooks into her lungs. A hand braced her spine, and she found steel eyes, centered herself in them.

A sharp ding rang out, another echoing across the isle from the Academy’s bell tower, and Emmeline flinched.

“Rore,” Nico said, nodding at the clock on the wall.

“By the Fates,” Roremar muttered as his brother stood and gathered his things, saying goodbye to Myrella. “We have to go now. We’re already late.”

“Go?” Emmeline’s skin chilled as his warmth disappeared. “Go where? Roremar, the Remembrance Revels are in a week. We can’t take breaks.”

“I know, but this one is nonnegotiable. Falliare knows where I’ll be.”

“Which is?” Emmeline pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders.

Roremar paused, studying her. She knew the panic was still plain on her features, but she didn’t hide it.

“Actually,” he said, “would you like to come with us?”

Chapter Forty-Four

Emmeline

Roremar and Nico’s home was all the way on the western edge of the Residential District of Lyra. Isolated, the weathered two-story house was built into a deserted cliffside, looking straight into the sea, a trail leading down to the beach on one side and jungle wrapping around the other. Uneven balconies jutted out from the second level, chipped green trim framing the windows.

“Why do you live so far from town?” Emmeline asked as they dismounted. Horses were rarely used on Lyra—they weren’t allowed on the Promenade of Revels, and many of the surrounding streets were too winding and narrow, but they were available to rent for further travel. Most didn’t, given the unnecessary expense, but getting all the way across the isle would have taken much too long on foot.

Luckily, she’d learned to ride as a girl on the continent.

“It’s our family home,” Nico explained, hurrying up the stone steps that led to the front door and disappearing inside.