Page 51 of Scars Beneath a Serpent’s Scales

“Really?” Emmeline asked with a slight gasp. “And do you know who it was?”

“I think it was Zorrahn,” Aviana answered.

“Wow,” Emmeline breathed, forcing herself to remain calm at the revelation. Two Fate ties was a rare occurrence. “Why do you think that?”

Aviana swallowed, choosing her words carefully. “Because it felt…powerful.”

Emmeline nodded. Zorrahn was often referred to as the Master of the Fates, his territories of Storms and Peaceful Stretches encompassing more world-altering fortunes than some. Of course, he also passed along personal readings on smaller scales, but Emmeline had always hypothesized that Zorrahn himself basked in the power.

“How did that feel?”

“I’m not sure I liked it,” Aviana explained. “Anhala is familiar. She’s strong and clever, and makes me feel wise, but Zorrahn was commanding. And…no one else in class has two Fate ties. It’s weird.”

Fear was thick in her voice as she explained this unexpected turn in her ties to the Fates. Emmeline thought of her own magic. How it had always been strong—a wild and untamable beast when she first tapped into it. How that had ripped her to shreds when she was younger, until she’d learned to stuff it down, command it. Only to be released in small increments, and never fully before others.

Perhaps she should have shared it, as she would encourage Aviana to do now, but…

No. She shook away that distracting thought that had her opal ring spinning around her finger again. This situation was entirely different. This—two Fate ties—it was something Aviana should be proud of.

Emmeline stood, striding around the desk to take the seat beside Aviana’s. “It will be odd at first,” Emmeline said. “Adjusting to a new Fate when you already have one takes time, and they will battle within you to claim what is clearly a strong source of magic.” Aviana smiled softly at the complement. “But remember that without you, the Fates have no meaning. Zorrahn is rumored to be ferocious, but if the stars chose this for you—if they both chose you—you are more so.”

“I’m scared,” Aviana admitted, fingers fidgeting in her lap though her expression was a bit more open than before.

“Why?”

“Because something’s wrong with me.” Her lips trembled, and Emmeline’s heart splintered with each small quake. Memories from over twenty years ago rushed through her mind.

What’s wrong with me? Why does this happen?

Small hands, shaking uncontrollably.

What is wrong with me, Emmy?

The memories threatened to choke her, to uncork the vial in her chest where she stored all the things she wasn’t able to face and unleash them.

“Oh dear,” Emmeline said, ensuring her hands were steady before she held one of Aviana’s. The girl visibly relaxed at the comfort, and Emmeline stole that confidence to continue, “There is nothing wrong with you. To receive a Fate tie is a gift. It’s the Angel’s magic bestowed upon her warriors. But to receive two?” She squeezed Aviana’s hand. “That is not only a gift—it’s a heavenly blessing.”

“Really?” Aviana asked, voice still small.

“I promise,” Emmeline said. “I won’t lie to you, it’s also a responsibility. It will require extra studies to master both connections as well as work to unravel the two. But the Angel would not do this unless she had a purpose.”

Aviana’s eyes lit up with every word. “A purpose?”

“Many believe that having more than one Fate tie makes you Angelblessed—kissed by the Angels—and marked as one of their favored. Those warriors are never chosen lightly and often achieve the kind of greatness written about in legends.”

The girl’s shoulders straightened as if she balanced the weight of those words on her frame. Her brown eyes glinted, reflecting the sun streaming through the window, and Emmeline swore starlight gleamed in that stare.

With a conspiratorial whisper, Emmeline latched on to the shine. “Do you think you can handle that?”

Brighter than the stars, Aviana grinned. “Yes, Miss DeLeoste.” Her nod was so enthusiastic, it burrowed down into Emmeline’s own spirit, reaching to the magic she kept buried deep.

“I knew you could,” Emmeline encouraged. Turning over her shoulder, she pulled a blank roll of parchment from the shelf beneath the window and grabbed her pen from her desk, careful to ensure it wasn’t one dipped in the Mystique ink well. “Now, let’s get a study plan for you that will cater to both Fates. How does that sound?”

Aviana nodded again, tucking her hands beneath her knees and leaning forward. “Very good.”

When Aviana left, Emmeline’s gaze dropped back to her research tucked in the journal atop her desk. The girl’s dilemma echoed in her head, along with those words from another lifetime, those words she’d spent over twenty years yearning to avenge:

What is wrong with me, Emmy?