Page 25 of Scars Beneath a Serpent’s Scales

Roremar briefly felt like a child being scolded for failing, seated atop the counter with his oldest friend and younger brother planted before him.

“You’re way more tense than is healthy for a man of thirty-two,” Desmond added, his laugh lightening the mood. “Spirits, I don’t know if you need to get drunk, find a woman to fuck, or both, but whatever it is, we’re taking you out tonight and fixing it.”

They weren’t wrong, Roremar supposed. He was under more pressure than anyone could understand. And it was the guilt he felt over never, in all their years, exposing the full crux of that pressure to even his closest confidants that had him somewhat relenting.

Not easily, though. He glared at the pair of them. “What about tomorrow morning?”

“I already worked out the schedule,” Nico assured him, his dark hair—the same night shade as Roremar’s—flopping over his brow as he nodded. “Mother will get everyone wrangled for the day and onto their new schedules. She has the morning off, and you can be in charge of dinner while she works.” After a breath Nico added, “Or I can be in charge since I’m capable, but I know your controlling ass won’t give up an entire day.”

Reluctantly, one corner of Roremar’s mouth tilted up. If his mother took care of their younger siblings in the morning, he could focus on getting himself to the Lyra Temple Academy for training sessions—which he still needed to plan, so he’d have to be early—then get home across the isle in time for his mother’s evening shift and handle all his usual paperwork at night.

He’d probably have to fit a fight with his uncle in there somewhere, assuming Emmeline told Aldryn that she didn’t want to work with him anymore, but he should still have plenty of time.

“Fine,” he conceded. And while he didn’t want to get drunk or fucked, he knew Desmond and Nico well enough to understand arguing was futile.

Hopping down from the counter, Roremar stomped into the night after Nico, the brothers waiting on the street as Desmond closed up, stopping to double check the gate to the upstairs apartment was locked. Not that he ever used it—he preferred the basement—but he owned the entire building.

They’d only taken a few steps onto the Promenade when Desmond asked, “So why did you come storming in yelling about an infuriating woman who I can only assume is the instructor you’re working with?”

“For Fate’s sake, you can’t even wait until I have a drink?” Roremar groaned.

Desmond chided, “It’s not good to hold in those emotions, Rore.”

“Yeah, talk to us, brother,” Nico said, patting his shoulder in a way that was more mocking than comforting.

But dammit, he couldn’t resist the chance to talk about the woman who had been plaguing his mind all day.

“She’s…stubborn.” Roremar considered as they strolled past the Promenade’s colorful buildings, greenery dotted with tiny purple flowers cascading across buildings on either side.

They aimed for a small tavern tucked beneath an arched canopy, The Eagle’s Nest, affectionally referred to as the Nest with homages to Zorrahn. Once known for their whiskeys, they now hosted a poor selection thanks to the import issues. A less than reputable incense den took up the back room.

“You can’t be insisting someone else is more stubborn than you,” Nico suggested, and Desmond barked a laugh.

“You haven’t met her,” Roremar challenged, very aware of his own tendencies. Also aware that no one else understood why he was the way he was. “She was surprised I read the damn files on the victims—surprised I knew anything about anything, truthfully. And when I suggested an actual course of action to proceed with, she shut it down. Threw out terms like senseless and said she’d rather work alone.”

And it drove him mad that he couldn’t figure out why.

Nico and Desmond were quiet as they received their drinks from the barkeep. Only once they settled in the leather chairs beside the fire, a stuffed eagle flaring its wings above the mantle, did Roremar study their dubious expressions.

“What?” he growled.

“So she disagreed with you, challenged you, and then rejected you?” Desmond clarified, nodding as if absorbing all Roremar’s points.

“And she stormed out, clearly forgetting why we agreed to work together in the first place.” Though he still hadn’t fucking figured out why she needed to transfer. Couldn’t be that important if she just gave up.

He, on the other hand, was choked by guilt every time he considered not following through on this assignment from his uncle. It was the very least he could offer his family.

What would happen if he couldn’t provide them this security? Even if it did come from Aldryn.

Roremar fisted one hand on the arm of his chair, watching the fire flicker as he sipped his drink. “Talk about senseless,” he muttered.

Or restless.

Or witless.

Or any of the other words she’d thrown at him.

After a drawn-out silence, Nico asked, “And what does she look like?” He took an innocent sip of his whiskey and frowned at the strong drink. Not a huge fan of liquor, Roremar knew Nico was mainly here for him, not the libations.