Page 195 of Scars Beneath a Serpent’s Scales

Why weren’t they unchaining him?

“Emmeline read after we guessed you were lying. She put together the pieces from there…” Desmond said, leaving the rest to her to explain.

She was restless as she did, eyes continuously dropping to Roremar’s chained wrists. She fidgeted with her opal ring.

“The Storyteller’s Lair. There was a shadowed figure there, too. They said he never spoke.” Roremar nodded grimly. “I was too lost to the incense at the time, but that was Dryvius’s Storyteller. And during my reading, wine poured over everything. The entire scene was Chaos and Revelry.”

It was the wine that struck a note in her mind. The Twelfth Fate’s sigil bore two wine jugs: one cracked and one overflowing. And sitting beside them…

“And Cirre. How she took to you.” And your tattoo, she didn’t add aloud. The one across his back. It was for the panther who adopted his family, but also his homage to the Fate who had ruled his life, a reminder of who kept him behind closed doors.

“Too smart for your own good, Huntress,” Roremar muttered, lips turning down, sadness dripping off every syllable.

It was for his own good that she’d been able to figure it out. Right?

“This still presents a problem,” Maeson said, snapping shut a history book she hadn’t realized he’d been flipping through.

“A problem?” Emmeline’s spine stiffened. Desmond shifted toward her. And Roremar…her reckless warrior only averted his gaze.

Brean, Head of the Trade House, said, “Roremar may not be the one who wanted to kill those innocent people, but he became the weapon.”

Her eyes flashed to Roremar’s, widening. And she knew why he hadn’t displayed even a sliver of relief. Why that tormented resignation never left his expression.

He whispered, “You should have let me go, Emmeline.”

The Snake Charmer shifted near the window, grinning broadly as he toyed with a chess piece, the serpent tattooed on his scalp making her sick. Falliare’s arms were crossed as he exchanged harsh whispers with Tarli Richmond.

But it was Maeson who nodded at Brean and said, “If Roremar has such a rare Fate tie that is able to kill innocent Starsearchers, it can’t be allowed to remain. Aldryn.” The Temple Master looked over, frowning. “Take us to your isle’s seeing chamber.”

Chapter Sixty-Six

Emmeline

“What?” Emmeline gasped, but the room had already erupted into shouts.

At the Head of the Trade House’s command, guards rushed in, four sets of hands restraining Roremar as he thrashed. Desmond grabbed one of them, throwing his elbow into the man’s face.

Emmeline dodged the stumbling soldier as his nose gushed blood. His hands slipped from Roremar’s shoulder, but he skidded in front of him to block Desmond and drew his sword.

Desmond’s face split into a grin. “Finally, an excuse to show up you useless fuckers.”

Dodging as the man swung, Desmond pulled Roremar’s sword from his back and met his strike. Metal clanged through the melee as voices mounted, calls for more guards and yells to let Roremar go.

Emmeline pulled two triple-blades from her thighs and tossed her satchel aside. The leather thudded to the ground, glass vials inside shattering. An array of potent scents flooded the room, calling to all the Fates.

She stuffed her magic down as best she could, practiced at suppression after all these years, but every other Starsearcher present stumbled as the incense of their ties slammed into them.

All but Roremar, whose stare remained clear and on her. The three guards dragging him from the room loosened their grips as their minds were whisked into readings.

Emmeline took two strides toward him, but a second wave of soldiers washed into the room. The oils and incense filtered through the open door and windows, dispersing enough that they weren’t affected.

Two large, armored men blocked Emmeline’s path.

“Roremar!” she shouted, sending a blade whirling through the air above their heads.

He stretched up, using the sturdy chain to intercept the weapon’s flight and dropping it into his hands as he was surrounded.

The officials regained control over their magic, Falliare jumping into an argument with Maeson Trellis, asserting he didn’t have the authority to do this.