Page 56 of Scars Beneath a Serpent’s Scales

“I understand,” Emmeline agreed, anger simmering. “But discreet or no, it shouldn’t be a secret from me.”

That was hurt in her eyes, and Fates, did it slice him up more than he’d ever expected.

But indignation reared within him, too. She preached partnership and full disclosure, but Roremar wasn’t dumb. Emmeline DeLeoste kept secrets from him, yet she didn’t think he deserved to do the same?

It was another puzzle he added to the roster Emmeline was acquiring.

“Sure, Huntress,” he told her, stepping closer in the narrow alley, dim from the tall apartments blocking the sun. She pressed back against the wall. Roremar’s hand settled on the brick beside her head, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip again.

Hollers and chatter washed over the street, but here, they were in their own bubble. Nothing but silence, their heavy breaths, and daring challenge as he repeated, “No more secrets. From either of us, right?”

She lifted her chin to meet his stare. He’d be damned, it was just as piercing as he was sure his own was. Just as stubborn and willful and determined.

Just as flooded with the starfire that was sewn deep into his bruised bones.

“No more secrets,” Emmeline said, promise lacing her words.

And though Roremar nodded in agreement, he knew they’d both just lied. They stayed there for a moment, each waiting for the other to crack. He couldn’t say what would happen when one of them did.

And with how much pressure was on them to solve this case before the Revels, he couldn’t waste time finding out.

Roremar stepped back, clearing his throat, and gestured for her to walk ahead. “Let’s go to the Accords, then I’ll escort you back to the Academy.”

With this new facade of truth weaving a web between them, Emmeline brushed past him. Roremar’s skin tightened at the slight contact, but they rounded the corner back onto the Promenade, and he forgot the heat flushing through his veins when he spotted a familiar form speaking to a figure shadowed beneath an awning with rapt attention.

“Des?” Roremar blurted. His friend turned, expression instantly brightening to his usual smirk. “What are you doing here?”

“Ah, one of my shipments is late.” He rolled his eyes. “Incompetent asses keep losing things lately. Came down here to track it during the afternoon lull.” Whoever he’d been speaking with had disappeared inside the storefront, apparently happy for the interruption.

Roremar didn’t blame them. Desmond was known for his charming, cordial manner, but he was a different person entirely when angry or threatened, and he certainly held a grudge over things he cared deeply about—like his business.

Beside Roremar, Emmeline shifted. He cast her a glance, her narrowed eyes instantly smoothing into their usual shine as she smiled at Desmond.

“You’re working tonight?” Roremar asked Desmond, gaze flicking between him and Emmeline. “Despite the curfew?”

“Trying to. A few people may come in.”

“I’ll stop by before…” Roremar’s words trailed off quicker than he could think of an excuse. Before I go home to check on the kids. Certainly, Emmeline didn’t miss the pause, but she didn’t comment, and he quickly amended, “I’ll stop by after Angel’s Draw if I can. May have a lot of work to do.”

“Good luck. Door’s always open,” Desmond said. Clapping Roremar on the shoulder, Des stepped around him. “Emmeline,” he greeted with a flirtatious smile as he headed up the street.

Her cheeks flushed, but she didn’t speak. Roremar’s chest tightened as Emmeline watched Desmond’s disappearing form, an uncomfortable sensation prickling behind his ribs. He wasn’t sure he liked it—the smile Des had flashed her. The way her look lingered.

It felt conspiratorial almost. Like there was something he didn’t know of between them.

But when he tried to ask her what was wrong, Emmeline only brushed him off.

No more secrets, they’d sworn.

On a Fate’s fucking grave.

Chapter Nineteen

Emmeline

She recognized Desmond’s voice.

That was why he’d seemed so familiar the first time she met him.