Page 27 of Scars Beneath a Serpent’s Scales

And while he was a stranger, she didn’t want ruin for either of them. That was one thing she’d learned about the fortunes revealed to her—they always came to pass in one way or another if she stayed the course. In a way, it was a reliability she craved.

Her mother had impressed upon her at a young age how important it was to never ignore your readings entirely. So with the threat of endless ruin burning through her, she’d stormed out of Fortuna like the prim and cold-hearted Starsearcher darling she needed Roremar to believe she was. She played the part everyone wanted to see of her, erecting the barriers that shielded her heart from anymore pain and ensured she’d stay on task to get transferred to Valyn.

Alone.

And, true to form, she’d provided no explanation as to why.

She’d been alone for eighteen years, she reminded herself hours later as she crept through the vineyards to her cliffside sanctuary. She lifted her skirt so it didn’t snag on the dried ends of fallen grapevines, moonlight carving paths through the quiet night.

Loneliness was a hollow footstep that outlined her own. It was the aching need to speak and not being able to find her voice. The way she wanted someone—anyone—to look at her and have their eyes soften with the understanding that conveyed more than words ever could.

But loneliness was also safe.

It was security in a world that took everything from her. Something she couldn’t overlook for the sake of warm glances and unspoken understanding. Solitude meant she could uphold her delicate control.

So what was one more solo task if it solidified her loneliness but also guaranteed she finally got to Valyn?

As she traipsed on silent feet through the vineyard, her fingers wrapped tighter around the triple blade sheathed at her waist. The grip of the weapon was worn and steel nicked. She was perfectly capable of fending for herself, no reckless warriors needed.

It was easier this way. Less pain than down the road to relinquishing.

Emmeline emerged onto the lakeside cliffs, the pale stone of the temple ruins reflecting the moonlight. The sight surrounded her heart, filling in those hollow gaps she dug out so viciously as she dragged her fingers across rubble.

It wasn’t clear what Fate the structure had originally been designed to worship—perhaps it was the Angel herself. Emmeline had searched the crumbling columns and debris-strewn halls meticulously but never found a scrap of a sigil or discarded incense in the six years since she’d claimed this spot as her private haven. She’d searched the library at the Academy, too. Even now, as she crept toward the drop overlooking the glassy lake, she kept her eyes open for any hint she may have missed.

Starlight glimmered off the still water and bounced up the jungle-wrapped cliffs, their jade and moss hues vibrant even in the fall. Vines wound down the rocky facade, critters scrambling through them as she sank to a crouch, breathed in the crisp air, and let the events of the day settle around her.

Emmeline had always loved books and folktales, and here, bathed in the shimmering moonlight and wrapped among the stars, leaving the dangerous alleys of her city behind for a moment, she felt as though her entire world had the potential to be one.

Though, as she sat on the cliff and the crescent-shaped scars along her thighs pulled against her skin, an ever-present reminder of everything she’d done to survive, she wondered if her fairytale was of the bleaker variety. Born of loss and torment that bred isolation and incomplete endings. Gazing out over the glass sheet of lake, a kinship with the night wrapped her bones, and she thought perhaps that sort of twisted, dark fairytale suited her.

It was said if a Starsearcher could find a body of water that reflected the Fate of Eddies and Lost Luck’s constellation they would never be lost. For he would guide them home.

And though this spot was only a short distance from the Lyra Temple Academy, near the Fatetouched land that blessed the isle—areas where it was believed the stars themselves had left magic behind—as she located the precise constellation in the mirrored surface, Emmeline silently admitted to herself that she didn’t know where home was.

Her eyes stung, but she blinked away the bone-deep ache and tried not to think about the family she’d lost or the things she’d done while trying to find them again.

At least she had this solitary asylum on the cliffs when her readings were too loud. When she felt like she was alone in a sea of people and desperately needed quiet air to breathe.

In a life where magic had walked step by step beside her for twenty-nine years, she often found it overstimulating. Magic crowding her on one side, a vast emptiness on the other. Neither welcoming, neither relenting. Funny how the Balance of Power ruled the realms yet seemed to ignore her completely.

But out here, with the constellations watching over her and the magic of Ambrisk steeping in the soil beneath her feet, there was peace.

And for one brief moment, without the eyes of students or colleagues or reckless warriors baring down on her—with nothing but loneliness to keep her company—she was seen in a way that didn’t scare her.

“How sad is that?” Emmeline murmured to herself as she hugged her knees to her chest, resting her cheek against them. “To feel the most understood when you’re the most alone?”

Her chest pounded, magic surging to the surface. Sighing, Emmeline removed her tinctures from her pack and filled a well with clear oil. She lit the incense, opting to place a singular drop on her tongue to hurry up the process. It tasted of night-blooming white lilies, earthy pine, and the nectar of sweet peaches as the liquid slid across her taste buds and her connection to the Fates flew open.

Readings rushed through her mind, voices colliding. She was in a tunnel made of starfire. Celestial beings warped and whirled around her. The sigil of a winged deer and white gryphon before a pair of golden arrows flashed.

Wild Spirits and Broken Things and all those that remain between, a voice sang through Emmeline’s mind, Atrinias’s image swimming to the surface.

Roremar, she asked of the stars. Show me Roremar.

She’d tried not to read of him last night, focusing solely on the case from Falliare, but after this morning at Fortuna, she’d been unable to rid her mind of him.

The Fate giggled, a high and unsettling sound that raised goosebumps on her arms.