Page 85 of Scars Beneath a Serpent’s Scales

But he didn’t leave the room as he had every other time Roremar asked, so he pushed. “You sure?”

“I…” He sighed. “I didn’t mean to lie to her, okay? I just knew when I met her that it was…bigger.”

“Bigger?”

Nico nodded, pressing a hand to his chest. “There was this pull when I saw her—I couldn’t look away. Couldn’t stop fucking thinking about her from the moment she smiled at me. It felt like fucking sunshine bleeding through my veins.” He shook his head, running a hand through his hair. For the first time, it struck Roremar just how much his sweet, charming younger brother had grown. That Nico was a man, though his same soft heart beat within. “But I’m not dumb, Rore. I see how much you sacrifice for this family.”

Roremar stood, crossing his arms. “What do I have to do with this?”

“Why should you have to do it alone?” Nico asked. “When I was talking to Myrella, I saw this future unfolding. It felt unavoidable, the way I was drawn to her. And I knew if I didn’t leave right then, I would have been on my knees for that woman for the rest of my life.”

Hazel eyes pierced Roremar’s memory, his chest pounding, but he shoved it down. “I’m still not following.”

He let out a hard laugh. “Seriously? You think I’d just abandon you to deal with all this shit alone? You’re finally letting me help. I won’t give that up for a woman, especially one I barely know. So I told her I couldn’t see her again. And when my chest physically hurt at the prospect, like I was being torn apart, I sold the lie by saying I was leaving—to the army—so I wouldn’t be tempted to find her.”

“Nico…” Roremar groaned, regret warping his heartbeat into a slow trudge. “I don’t want you to sacrifice happiness. That’s not why I do this.” He waved a hand over the desk. “It’s the opposite. I want you all to have everything father would have provided for us if he hadn’t died.”

That, and the guilt that plagued his nightmares with visions of his father’s death.

“But he did die, Rore. That’s our reality, and I don’t like that you make yourself face it all alone. You deserve to be happy, too,” Nico argued.

“No.” A cruel laugh. “I don’t.”

The viciousness in his voice stunned his brother into silence. “What do you mean?”

“Nothing.” Roremar patted Nico’s shoulder as he tried to walk past, but Nico stepped into his path.

“You think because you were both on that mission that you’re responsible for it, but you aren’t.”

Fucking Fates, his brother’s desperation was grueling. It tore his shredded soul into pieces bit by bit.

“Listen,” Roremar said, avoiding Nico’s claim, “you should be happy. You should pursue love and your dreams. You’ve already been saddled to an apprenticeship you aren’t thrilled with because of this family. That’s more than fulfilling your duty.” A fact that kept Roremar up at night, trying to find a way around it. “Don’t sacrifice the other things, too.” Pleading dripped through his words. He squeezed his brother’s shoulder, willing him to hear it.

Nico must have felt the agony because he nodded. “It may be too late anyway. But we’ll see.”

“You never know. It’s not over until the Fates swear it is.” Maybe Emmeline could read a future in which Nico won Myrella back, just so his brother would know it was possible. For him, Roremar would ask her that favor.

With that sentiment sealed between them, Roremar’s mind tucked away the mess spread atop the desk, storing it in orderly files in the back of his brain. Then, he mentally pulled up the pressing issue, letting evidence spill out before him.

Cults and tattoos, ash and altars and rituals. Victims all originating from the same isle, having connections to the same apothecary. Though that lead had only provided a list of recent purchases with negligible overlap, it was shaping up before him, he knew it, without any guidance from the fucking Fates.

Still, he couldn’t help the nagging feeling that one thread was missing. That if he could latch on to it from the dark void in his mind, he may be able to make sense of this.

Grabbing his sword from beside the desk, Roremar slung it across his back and headed for the door. His stomach twisted with nerves at the thought of leaving his siblings while they went to Alvan. At the thought of Nico or any of the others living less-than-happy lives because of his own well-earned pain.

“Oh, Fate’s ass,” Nico swore, and Roremar quirked a brow. “In all your misery, I forgot the reason I came to find you.”

“Other than your secret love for the woman who feels like sunshine?”

Nico narrowed his eyes, and Roremar could already see him wishing he’d held on to that precise description. “Yes, other than that. Uncle Aldryn is in the kitchen with Mother. He wants a word.”

Roremar groaned. “Great.”

Enthusiastic voices echoed down the hall before Roremar and Nico entered the kitchen. Leo.

Of course, he put off going to bed once he knew their uncle was there. The kid had lost his father when he was four. He clung to any potential male role model he saw. It always grated on Roremar, though. Leo didn’t remember Aldryn hadn’t been around much those early years. Still was only around when it suited him.

Leo’s reliance on someone who hadn’t always been reliable set Roremar on edge.