Page 79 of Scars Beneath a Serpent’s Scales

Roremar reached for Liana’s hand, his glove gently sliding against her skin and lifting it toward the light. “She has smears of ash on her.”

Large grey smudges streaked her hands and arms, gathered on the hem of her white skirt, too.

“She smokes quite a bit with Charisse,” Myrella offered.

“Could be,” Roremar said, gently placing her hand back where it had been.

“There was ash around the last body,” Emmeline recalled. “It may not be hers at all. Or it is, and this whole thing is tied to the bad drugs that have been filtering onto the isle. Maybe they came from Alvan on that boat with the first victim and her friends?”

She wasn’t quite sure how that fit into the cult theory, but perhaps the Warders of Selene were involved with that, too. She’d been warning Charisse and Liana to be careful, to stay away from certain strains.

“Whether or not that’s what this is, it’s getting on the isle somehow. Who knows what else could be,” Roremar said. Straightening, he walked around the body, to stand beside Emmeline. “When was the last time each of you saw her?”

“At breakfast this morning,” Myrella said, fingers tapping her lips as she listened.

“A few days ago,” Emmeline answered numbly. “She was going to an apothecary across the quarter.”

“Apothecary…” Roremar repeated, looking back at the body. “I think you two should speak with Charisse. As her friends, but also to see if she knew anything.”

Emmeline released a slow breath over the nerves tightening her throat, but she nodded.

Thank the Fates Myrella was here, too. Emmeline hadn’t spent a lot of personal time with Liana and Charisse, but Myrella was closer with them. Charisse would probably appreciate her support more.

But just as Emmeline was going to suggest they finish up here first, Charisse found them.

Disbelief flitted over her features, tangled with denial. As if someone had told her what happened, but she hadn’t wanted to grasp it. Thought it a cruel joke. She stood there, mouth agape, her breaths slowly speeding.

And then, devastation broke her.

It wasn’t a loud crack, but a silent crumbling. A collapse to her knees, a silent fountain of tears. A shattered heart that seemed to steal all the air from the world until even Emmeline’s lungs were tight.

“Liana,” Charisse cried as she knelt beside her, stroking her hair. Her cheek. “What have they done to you?”

Roremar exchanged a glance with Emmeline at that odd question. “Do you know who did this?” he asked gently.

The woman only shook her head, horror and sorrow equally painting her stare and the delicate stroke of the cheek of the woman she loved, like she needed to touch her one last time.

“We never even had a chance,” Charisse whispered, and those words shattered Emmeline.

The academy had kept them apart, had forbidden instructors from being openly together, and now…now Liana was gone.

Heart in splintered fragments, Emmeline knelt beside Charisse, the stones cold beneath her knees. Myrella took her other side.

“Charisse?” Emmeline prodded softly, placing her hand on the woman’s shoulder. “Do you think we could ask you a few questions? It doesn’t have to be now. Just when you’re ready.”

“I’d like to do it now,” she asserted, red eyes lifting to Emmeline’s, seeking the solace only closure could give.

Swallowing, Emmeline gripped Charisse’s hand. Roremar stood at her shoulder. Lantern still held between them, he allowed Emmeline to lead.

“The tattoo,” Emmeline began, not quite sure what to even ask when Charisse was so distraught. It felt insensitive and intrusive, brutal to be doing this now. But the entire realm was woven with cruelty, and she was forced to bear it. “She doesn’t have any others?”

“Never was interested in them. She said—” Charisse hiccupped, laughing. “She said her body was a work of art on its own, why should she mar it?”

Emmeline chuckled with Charisse. “That does sound like Liana. Her confidence was admirable.”

So the tattoo wasn’t by choice. That contradicted the theory that Liana had offered herself up willingly.

“She had a hard life before she moved to Lyra. The confidence was a facade at first—to get through the day and appease others—but I think eventually it became true.”