Page 181 of Scars Beneath a Serpent’s Scales

Shifting closer, she silently begged him to look at her. “Because I know you didn’t do this.”

He huffed a laugh, head tipping back against the wall. He was the image of defeat, not a deranged mass murderer proud of his conquests.

“Fates, Emmeline. Looking for the best in me now?” His gaze finally sliced to her, swirling with ghosts. Chains rattling against the ground, he pulled his knees up and draped his arms over them. “I’m guilty of so much more than you know.”

“We all are,” she asserted. “None of us are innocent in every way. But I know you wouldn’t have killed all these people, Roremar. I know you are not guilty of this crime.”

“And what if I am?” he gritted out, leaning forward. “What then, Emmeline? If I tell you the truth—that I’m responsible for this—will that get you to go away?”

Her throat went dry at the iciness to his words. It was harsher than she’d ever heard him, even back when they were biting each other’s heads off every moment they were together.

Will that get you to go away?

To leave, as so many people had left her before. As she’d been telling him she would when this was all over.

But it wasn’t over. Not yet.

“Nothing will make me give up on you, Roremar.”

“Well, you should.” Dismissive, he leaned back against the wall. “I’m better off in here. No one else will get hurt.”

It was an odd way to phrase it, but that had to have been a tinge of remorse in his voice. And a small hint was all she needed to shift closer to the bars, to reach her hand inside, and urge, “Please, Rore, just tell me what happened. Tell me, and we’ll get you out of here.”

With every minute he was silent, her heart cracked into more and more pieces. She’d wait as long as he needed, though. Even if it left her in shattered ruins, she’d wait an eternity for him.

“Fine,” she said, lifting her chin. “You don’t have to talk yet, but I’m not going anywhere.”

Then, just as he had for her following the incident with the Snake Charmer, Emmeline pressed her back to the wall beside his cage, and there on the cold stone floor, she held a vigil in the silence.

Only unlike her, Roremar didn’t speak.

She didn’t know how long she sat there, but all the while, he didn’t utter a damn word.

Eventually, footsteps echoed down the tunnel, and Emmeline swore Roremar flashed her a nervous glance that gave her hope that he was truly still in there. She shot to her feet, hood up and ready to disappear into the shadows, but Desmond rounded the corner, torch in hand.

“Emmeline,” he whispered, but he halted when he saw Roremar.

“What are you doing here?” Roremar snapped, eyes bouncing between the two of them, more alert than the whole time she’d been down here. “Why are you guys together?”

“Because we want to help you,” Emmeline practically whimpered, her heart cracking further.

“Not possible,” Roremar scoffed.

“We have to go, Emmeline,” Desmond said, pointedly not looking at his friend. Emmeline had a feeling if he did, he’d break. His amber eyes were sharp, features stoic as he waited for her.

With one last desperate try, Emmeline turned back to Roremar’s cell and sank to her knees. The stone was cold and damp through her leathers, and it drove a wedge into her chest to think about Roremar trapped down here, but she pressed closer.

“Look at me. Just tell me what happened,” she begged. “Tell me the truth, and I promise we’ll fix it.”

“None of this can be fixed,” he hissed, leaning closer to the bars so the grey of his eyes shone in the torchlight. Finally, a bit of life from him. It was wild and desperate, but it was life. “Don’t you see, Emmeline? It’s all beyond ruined. And I should have seen it coming. It was the only way for any of this to end.”

“I don’t understand,” she sobbed, hot tears thick in her throat.

“We need to go,” Desmond reminded her, his voice tight as he placed a hand on her shoulder. “It’s nearly dawn. The shifts will change. We’ll come back.”

Roremar glared at him. “Do not come back. If you really want to help me, do not come back here.” It was a warning—for whose good, she didn’t know. Leaving him here couldn’t be the right answer.

“Please, Roremar.” Her voice cracked, shrinking as magic pounded in her chest and that damn thread tugged, tugged, tugged. “Please give me anything. Anything that can help us figure this out.”