Page 111 of Scars Beneath a Serpent’s Scales

“I wrote to her again as soon as we got back to Lyra,” Emmeline admitted, shame creeping up her throat for having kept the secret. “I didn’t think she would even read it, but Roremar said he needed an entire day—possibly two—before meeting with Falliare and the Accords would take even longer. I figured it couldn’t hurt. I didn’t—” She faltered, blinking rapidly. “I didn’t think she’d answer this quickly.”

Truthfully, she hadn’t expected her to answer at all. Let alone with a letter this weighty. The envelope had to hold a dozen sheets of parchment.

“Open it!” Myrella encouraged, clearly not deterred by Emmeline’s secrecy. Nico nodded, and an unfamiliar tightness squeezed Emmeline’s chest at their support.

Carefully, she pried open the envelope, pulling out the first page. She was right—there were many. Charts and lists, star maps and records. A handwritten note topped them.

Miss DeLeoste,

I appreciate your emphatic follow up to the initial inquiry. Though typically I request correspondents wait at least a week before pushing, I see how this circumstance cannot be postponed.

I have granted the Accords permission to attach details on Alvan Starsearchers who are aligned with Arenothos or Aevollon, history of organized illicit worship, ship logs, and anything else that may be of interest to your case.

I do hope it is helpful, and please ensure word is given to our isle when this has been resolved. We will be increasing our patrols of Alvan Isle Guard as long as seen fit.

Signed,

Enya Yorren

War Master, Isle of Alvan

A dramatic, looping signature followed the neatly scrawled title, and Emmeline blinked at it a few times before it registered. She’d truly been given aid. This stranger had offered to help based on her word alone. Her eyes stung at the weight of the papers in her hands.

Though her magic was always valued at the Temple Academy, she hadn’t been prepared for the rush of emotion this level of trust would bring. Hadn’t realized the need to be heard in a world where she’d fought to make herself invisible.

Her fingers trembled with it as she flicked through the pages, scanning them all briefly. A wealth of information. This had to have some sort of relevance to the case. Why else would the Fates provide it?

The first few sheets were ship records followed by a historic account of trade between Lyra and Alvan. Next came an appendix of myths, rituals, and sacrifices that may be of interest to research.

Finally, she got to the list of Fate ties from the Alvan Accords. The top page bore only a dozen names, listed alphabetically. Her attention snagged near the top, and her heart stalled.

No.

No.

She willed it not to be true, but the facts were inked before her.

“By the Fates’ fucking spirits,” she swore as her breathing turned choppy.

She tore from the building before Myrella and Nico could ask why.

Chapter Thirty-Five

Roremar

“It’s related to the Fate ties?” Uncle Aldryn asked, incredulously, and no small amount of satisfaction purred beneath Roremar’s skin at discovering this fact before his uncle had.

Sure, he and Emmeline were supposedly assigned to this case, but after the interaction at his home before leaving for Alvan when Aldryn implied that perhaps Roremar wasn’t capable of this task, Roremar was sure he was conducting his own investigation. He only suspected it had motives none of them knew about, which was part of the reason Roremar wanted to stage this meeting without Emmeline. To observe his uncle’s behavior alone, without worrying about hiding his relationship to the Temple Master.

Roremar leaned against the low back of his curved leather chair in the Mezzanine’s main hall, elbows propped up on the edge as he took the cigar his uncle offered. He inhaled, the woodsy flavor dense in the air around them.

“Only Anphrosia Fate ties,” Roremar repeated as he blew out the smoke. He rubbed his thumb over the small slanted VV stamped into the wrapper, his mind tingling. “We haven’t clarified why. Maybe some fanatics obsessed with the mess of the Fates’ mortal lives.”

Though if that was the case, what was the purpose of the ritual? They’d originally hypothesized it was to create new connections with the Fates, but that theory wasn’t as plausible with this new lead. Revenge made more sense, especially considering the combination of Arenothos, Aevollon, and Anphrosia in that insignia.

He shook his head, eyes glazing over as a group of women danced on stage. Their silver beaded costumes tangled with the music, and low mystlights flashed across the dark wooden finishes.

“We’re still figuring out the rest,” he tacked on before his uncle could comment.