Page 202 of Scars Beneath a Serpent’s Scales

Emmeline clung to Roremar as the guards grabbed him. They pulled her back, all the way into the hall, her body numb.

Her usually steady feet slipped over rubble and broken glass as the wrecked seeing chamber came into full view, top blown clean off from her magic, walls no more than glimmering rubble, Roremar in the center.

The sight shocked her into motion.

“Let him go! NO! NO!” She thrashed and screamed, her voice turning raw. She dug her nails into the arm of the guard holding her, nearly piercing his leathers.

She’d thought if she could get into the seeing chamber, she could save him. When her magic had exploded, her secrets broken into the air above, she’d thought if she poured out every path of Fate that led to Roremar living peacefully that they would let him go.

Let him live.

She’d given up every part of herself, every single secret she’d kept buried for so long, only to wind up losing it all again. Losing him.

Continuing down this path will send you both to endless ruin, igniting in a prophetic vision of crashing stars and bleeding worlds.

That was what the Fates had told her that very first day they’d worked together. She’d thought she could save them.

She wasn’t even processing what the isle officials were saying about her. Her potential, her future, her capacity to be some symbol among the Starsearchers that she’d been running from her entire fucking life. Ever since all eleven of her Fate ties had burst to life when she was only seven, in an explosion that sent temple officials hunting for her family. That took her sister instead.

Stomping on the foot of the guard restraining her, she shoved out of his arms and raced back into the seeing chamber. Glass and gravel crunched underfoot. Isle officials yelled at her to stop.

They’d already chained Roremar’s hands again, the explosion having blown through the last pair of manacles, but Emmeline clawed through the soldiers, pushing them back with the force of the Fates she’d been suppressing for two decades. Teary and in disbelief, she dropped to her knees before him. He fell with her, always in sync.

“Roremar,” she begged.

“My Em,” he whispered, taking her hands.

“Please.” Tears choking her, she cupped his cheeks. “Please, don’t let them.”

“I’ll only ruin you further.” How was his voice so damn steady when he was saying goodbye? “Now, you have a chance at the life you’ve always wanted.” He gripped her wrists, squeezing as he whispered, “Go find her, Emmeline.”

“Don’t you understand, you’ve already ruined me? I’m beyond repair, Roremar, and I don’t understand how, because you were that infuriating, reckless warrior, but now you’re something laced through my soul. And now—you can’t⁠—”

The guards tried to grab his shoulders, but Roremar shrugged them off and barked, “Give us a Fatesdamned minute!”

They stood down, knowing he couldn’t go anywhere, and he turned back to her.

“A sick, selfish part of me wishes you didn’t know,” he admitted. “Wishes you didn’t have to be burdened with my truth or the thought that you might have saved me.” His thumb brushed her cheek, and she leaned into the touch. “There was never any saving me, but if anyone could have done it, it would’ve been you.” He shook his head, grey eyes so flat and lifeless. That was how her heart felt. “Angels, in a way you did save me. You made it so I could breathe again these final weeks. Do you understand how grateful I am that I got to experience that? You?” He kissed her knuckles. “But this fate? This one was inevitable. I was meant to succumb to Dryvius since the day I was born. This is the only way to stop him.”

“No,” she sobbed. “You don’t deserve to suffer for his actions. It isn’t fair.”

“Most things aren’t.” He rested his hand on her neck, thumb brushing her jaw. “When I go, tell the stars about me, Emmeline. Because I’ll sure as Spirits tell them about you.”

How could she get him to understand it wasn’t better this way? Nothing would be better if he was taken, if he was…Fates, she couldn’t imagine what they would do to him. How could she convince him that nothing was better?

There was one way. The only wall she’d yet to knock down, one she’d gladly let crumble.

“Kiss me,” she blurted out.

His eyes widened, head shaking. “No.”

“Kiss me, Roremar.” It wasn’t a plea, but a command.

“Your rules⁠—”

“Fuck my rules!”

And there was nothing but pure relief in his eyes now—pure relief and maybe a bit of the heartbreak she was feeling—as he kissed her. They grappled for each other, completely ignoring the guards still trying to tear them apart, the officials swearing he would be the death of her if they were allowed to be together.