Page 144 of Scars Beneath a Serpent’s Scales

For a few hours, she was his.

Back stroking toward the cliffs his siblings were already halfway to, he called, “Welcome to my world, Huntress.”

There was something in her stare he couldn’t name, but he memorized the flicker of longing that followed, and he promised when she went to Valyn, he’d always hold it close.

They swam to the caves beneath the nearby cliffs, his siblings taking turns jumping off the rocky outcrops as he and Emmeline sat under the overhang. Moss clung to the walls and tunnels stretched behind them.

Emmeline whispered, “You do think we’ll find this person, right?”

His stare spun to her, his damp waves swishing over his brow. “We will. We’re getting closer, Emmeline. Can’t you feel it?”

“I suppose so.” The words were smaller than normal. She twisted that opal ring on her finger. “It feels like there’s an obvious answer that we just aren’t seeing. A piece we’re missing. But instead of figuring it out, we’re”—she waved a hand over the water—“here.”

“After last night…” He let the words trail off, watching for any reaction that signaled she didn’t want him to go there. “I think we both needed a day to just be. A distraction for a few hours.”

She nodded, chewing her lip. “You’re different out here, Roremar.”

“What do you mean?”

Turning toward him, her eyes flicked across his face. “There’s Roremar the Reckless, the warrior who earned the reputation. Then there’s the clever, analytical—albeit aggravating⁠—”

“Trying to flirt with me, Miss DeLeoste?” he interjected.

She only raised her voice. “—man who keeps all his secrets bottled up but is one of the smartest, most observant people I’ve ever met.” Pride bloomed in his chest at the words. “There’s the son and brother who clearly shoulders all the stress of his family. The tightness in your body when you’re looking out for them or worried about schedules and plans makes sense now.” She paused, hugging one knee tighter to her chest, the other leg dangling over the drop into the shallow water. Beads of water rolled along her skin, baring her scars as she seemed to peel back his. “Then there’s this version. The one who seems…relaxed. Happy, almost.”

Fates, he fucking was. The water at night always had that effect, but here. Now…

“I think, despite everything going on on Lyra, right now I’m the happiest I’ve been in a while, Huntress.”

She gave him a soft smile. “Me, too, Reckless.”

And the way she said that name was different this time. Knowing that she saw the other sides of him made it sound like hers, like she was reclaiming the reputation for him.

Emmeline’s words from the night before came back to him. All the pain she’d been through—the loss. The deaths she’d both suffered and inflicted. Tonight, as she flicked a smile at him from her perch atop the rocks, she was an entirely different person than she was in that bathing tub.

Just as she’d catalogued the versions of him, he collected pieces of her. This wasn’t the woman she displayed to the world. The orderly and controlled tutor. But this also wasn’t the ghost that haunted alleys in the night. This was raw and vulnerable and real. He thought maybe it was the joy that dared to flame within her, the one that threatened to raze the world if she let it out.

Did she realize how deep that power went? It was evident in every bubble of laughter, every glance at the stars. Emmeline DeLeoste was made of magic and stardust.

A kind Roremar could never bottle up in this corner of the world where he was trapped.

And if that didn’t make him sick.

Much to Siena’s dismay, eventually they made their way back up the path. She was drifting to sleep on Roremar’s shoulder by the time the house came into view. Vivienne twirled ahead of them, her wet braids flicking droplets to the jungle ground.

A pair of panthers lounged in the trees near the front door, a white crescent marking one’s forehead. Tilting her head, Emmeline studied her from the porch as she scrunched water from her hair, the tunic Roremar loaned her dropping to mid-thigh.

“Everything okay?” Roremar asked, adjusting Siena to hold the door open.

“I recognize that panther.”

Knowing jade-green eyes met Roremar’s. “Cirre?”

Emmeline whipped her head toward him. “She has a name?”

Roremar shrugged. “She’s sort of⁠—”

But before he could explain the family’s affinity for the jungle cat, Leo’s animated voice drifted from the kitchen. A familiar, deep tone answered it.