Page 145 of Scars Beneath a Serpent’s Scales

Roremar froze, despair sinking claws into his gut as he felt Emmeline slipping away.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

From beyond the foyer, Vivienne exclaimed, “Uncle Aldryn!”

Emmeline’s brows creased as she peered around Roremar. “Uncle…”

And Aldryn Falliare stepped into the hall, his face grim as he took them in. “There’s been another murder.”

Chapter Forty-Six

Emmeline

Aldryn Falliare was Roremar’s uncle.

The Temple Master was Roremar’s uncle.

After Roremar had emphasized being honest with each other surrounding this investigation, he’d hidden an incredibly pertinent piece of information. It wasn’t that he’d kept a secret from her, it was the nature of that secret. That the Fatesdamned man who had recruited them to solve this case was his blood relative.

And he had come to tell them of another woman found dead.

“Where was she?” Roremar asked once the younger kids were upstairs and they gathered in the kitchen with his mother, Nico, and Falliare. His Fatesdamned uncle.

Roremar’s attention burrowed into Emmeline as if he sensed her annoyance over this new revelation, but she kept her stare trained on the Temple Master.

“Right on the Promenade, near the Mezzanine. Found this morning.”

“Near the Mezzanine?” Nico repeated, eyeing Roremar and Emmeline.

“She was a dancer.” Falliare slapped a leather file on the worktable, the legs wobbling with the force. Emmeline immediately dove on it, needing somewhere to look other than Roremar. He braced a hand on the wood beside her, his proximity burning into her side as he read over her shoulder.

The body wasn’t far from Fated Ink. If she’d stayed there today, they would have known sooner, could have observed the scene themselves. Guilt crowded her throat.

The woman also had two Fate ties. Anphrosia and Serchus. It shook the foundations of her Arenothos and Aevollon theories. As far as she knew, those two Fates didn’t have anything against Serchus, Fate of Secrets and Greed.

She wouldn’t rule it out completely, though.

“Darcy wrote to me this morning. You, too, but I believe you’d already left to come here,” Falliare explained. “Wounds and tattoos align with what we’ve seen so far.”

“Right on the fucking Promenade,” Roremar said, voice tight. It was obvious he shared her guilt. Though, his was likely two-fold, torn between his sister’s birthday and this case. “The killer isn’t even trying to hide it anymore.”

Every word from Roremar’s lips rumbled against Emmeline’s skin. Aggravation prickled her spine more and more, making it hard to concentrate.

Taking a deep breath, she set the papers on the counter and stepped away, trying to focus on the woman who lost her life. It was the fourth body, not counting disappearances.

“The deaths are getting closer to us,” Emmeline said. “First Liana, now someone from the Mezzanine just hours after we were there. This feels like something’s building.”

“A final act.” Roremar’s response chilled her, three words sitting heavily on the air.

Chrysta’s face paled, Nico’s jaw ticked, and Emmeline still couldn’t get herself to look Roremar in the eye.

A final act. What would the killer’s grand finale be?

“I don’t need to impress upon either of you how important it is to solve this before the Revels,” Falliare reminded them. As if she could forget. Her transfer to Valyn was on the line, let alone how vulnerable people would be during the celebrations. “We’re increasing on-duty guards and earlier curfews, but the isle needs this festival.”

“Yes, sir,” Emmeline muttered.

Roremar’s response was more of a growl. “We’re taking care of it.”