Page 140 of Scars Beneath a Serpent’s Scales

How much was Roremar caring for his siblings if he had his own specific set of rules?

Siena nodded, taking her hand to lead her inside. “He’s fourteen.”

“And how old are you today?” Emmeline asked, following through the foyer. Roremar’s steps echoed theirs.

“Ten.”

“What? You’re ten? You’re so grown up!”

“Don’t give her any ideas,” Roremar groaned as he closed the door.

Emmeline cast a glance over her shoulder, and she couldn’t help the feeling that she was seeing him in an entirely different light. Somehow, as he stepped through those doors, the burdens both multiplied and shed.

After last night, desperation curled through her to understand this side of him. All sides of him. And it began within these walls.

Siena led her past a sitting room with sunken sofas and settees, dust-lined paintings purposefully hung on the walls with cracked mystlight bulbs over each. Books, scribbled charcoal drawings, and empty incense vials were scattered around, laundry on the clothesline just visible through the window and more stacked on the table.

Despite the disorder, every room they passed cinched her chest. It was lived in. A home that breathed with the love and vitality of its residents.

Voices bounced off the tile as they entered the kitchen. A raven-haired girl barely older than Siena—Vivienne, most likely—raced around the worktable, chasing a wiry boy who must be Leo. She shrieked as he and Nico laughed, something about not having enough lemon icing now that they’d sampled some.

Siena immediately dove into the mess, hoisting herself onto the counter and declaring it was her birthday and no one got to taste the cake first.

“We didn’t taste the cake! It was only the icing!” Leo shouted, ducking a lemon as Vivienne hurled it across the room with surprising strength. Nico snatched it from the air.

“No throwing fruit!” he chided.

“He started it!” Vivienne screeched.

“Yeah, and last time you ended it with broken windows,” Roremar reminded her, though he was also laughing.

Vivienne’s bottom lip jutted out. “I was only responsible for the one.”

“Yeah, the other was me,” Siena piped up as if proud to be involved. “And you fixed it so fast.” Her eyes found Emmeline’s, and she added, “Roremar is really good at fixing things.”

All eyes whisked toward Emmeline, silence descending. Her throat tightened.

“Who are you?” Leo said abruptly.

Nico flicked him in the back of the head. Leo’s answering curse had Siena giggling as Roremar pulled her off the countertop.

“Get down before you fall,” he reprimanded, swiping a finger through the aforementioned lemon icing. His eyes caught Emmeline’s as he licked it clean, and her cheeks flushed, pulse thrumming. Unaffected, Roremar said, “That’s perfect, Vivi.”

Instead of getting mad at Roremar the way she had Leo, Vivi beamed at the compliment, all wounds soothed over.

This side of Roremar, the doting older brother who knew exactly how to diffuse the tension, was entirely different than the one Emmeline knew. And yet it fit. How he was so uptight yet nurturing. How his craving for control sometimes warred with a natural impulsiveness. How he could be both so gentle and stern.

Roremar the Reckless was one persona, a reputation earned in a time when he wasn’t tied to so much responsibility. But this…this was him.

A melodic voice fluttered from the staircase in the corner, laughing. “I left for a few minutes, and you all couldn’t keep from arguing.”

A woman who had to be Roremar’s mother glided into the room, brown hair in a loose bun at the nape of her neck and wispy pieces framing her angular face. Something about her seemed oddly…familiar. Her eyes landed on Emmeline, widening slightly.

“Oh,” she said, smoothing down her simple cotton dress, the colors faded from wear. Dark circles shadowed her eyes, her frame frail. “I didn’t know we invited anyone else today.”

“Mother,” Roremar said, setting Siena down and placing a hand on Emmeline’s back, “Leo, Vivi. This is Emmeline. She’ll be joining us if that’s all right.”

Emmeline wasn’t sure why the silence that followed felt so tense. Why it snaked around her throat and squeezed tighter than usual.