Page 174 of Scars Beneath a Serpent’s Scales

He appreciated the chains. Their weight dragging his wrists to the stone was grounding. Their iron digging into his flesh was a punishment.

Not enough.

He deserved way worse.

He begged for it after what he’d done. To the Angel Valyrie, his father’s spirit, even the Fates, he begged. Fuck, if the Fates had ever done one single thing for him in this shameful existence, let it be this.

Let him receive every wretched thing he deserved.

Chapter Fifty-Eight

Emmeline

The cheer of the Revels was wrong. How could everyone be celebrating when there’d been so much tragedy? But Emmeline supposed those who didn’t know the victims were celebrating a threat being caught.

That Roremar was imprisoned.

As she stood at the back of the crowd and monitored the group of students she was assigned to, she felt as though she was hovering above it all. Observing the scene, but not truly present.

The way the smoke of the bonfire at the end of the Promenade spiraled into the chilling night air. The way the stained-glass lanterns cast vibrant colors on grinning faces. The way drinks were passed and toasts made.

Emmeline tipped her face up, seeking the constellations, telling them of her pain, her confusion and worries. She gave it all to them as numbness seeped along her bones. Through her teary eyes, the constellations looked broken. Just as everything was.

She barely lasted the two hours she was supposed to chaperone, hurrying back to the Academy as soon as she was done. Just as she hiked up the tree-lined hill to the gates, footsteps hollow in the pools of yellow lantern light, the silvered bars marking the entrance to the grounds swung open.

Regina ran out, holding a cloak tight around her shoulders. “I was heading out to look for you.”

“What’s wrong?” Emmeline asked, mind flashing to Myrella.

“Nothing,” the history instructor reassured, but her shoulders hiked up at the word, the crease in her brow deepening. “Nothing else, I should say. I checked on Myrella a little while ago and she was asleep.”

“That’s good.” Emmeline sighed.

As they moved back into the warmth of the Academy, mystlights dimmed and flickering over the stones, Regina looked at Emmeline, and her heart twisted. Not because she didn’t want to be seen, but because she’d gotten so used to Roremar seeing through all her defenses, and she knew right now, Regina wouldn’t.

“Shouldn’t you be at the Revels?” Emmeline asked to distract herself from the wrench in her gut.

Regina shook her head, one lock of dark curls slipping out from the messy knot she’d pinned back. “I did an earlier shift then wanted to catch up on work.” She brushed the hair behind her ear and held up a stack of papers Emmeline hadn’t noticed. “I know it’s probably pointless now, but I thought you might want these.”

Emmeline took them as they passed the library, heading for the wing housing the instructors’ dormitories, expecting late papers and not truly caring right now. “What are they?”

“It’s about the research you asked me to do.”

“Research?”

“On Lyra’s cult history.”

Emmeline stopped in her tracks, heart inflating for a moment. It quickly punctured. Shaking her head, she resumed walking. “Thank you for looking into it, but it doesn’t matter anymore.”

Regina’s heart-shaped lips pressed into a line. “I figured you’d say that, but I found some new stuff the other day and finally dug into it tonight. About that first symbol you brought me with the wings and roses.”

“The Warders of Selene,” Emmeline said.

Regina nodded. “I told you I’d seen a similar symbol when I was hiking to that supposed Angelic temple. I didn’t want to go back alone, so I pulled some books on ancient ruins. There are variations of the artistic wings all over history. If the place hadn’t been wrecked, I’m sure I would have found more the first time.”

“What do you mean by variations?”

“Some in the style you found, some with stars or lightning. A lot of different interpretations. I noted it all down for you, but that’s where it got interesting.”