Page 80 of Scars Beneath a Serpent’s Scales

“I’d love to hear more stories about that,” Emmeline said softly, and it wasn’t a lie.

On Charisse’s other side, Myrella took her hand, and Emmeline was so grateful for her assistance. “Can we ask about her use of drugs?”

“What do you mean?” Charisse asked, her head tilting as she studied the body of the woman she loved, the tattoo and wound reflecting in her glassy eyes.

“I know you both enjoyed the recreational herbs and tinctures,” Emmeline began, choosing her words carefully so it didn’t sound accusatory. “Do you think she was buying more illegal or dangerous strains? Maybe something imported recently?”

Charisse squeezed Emmeline’s hand as she thought. “I don’t think so. Not knowingly at least. Liana told me everything—shared every bit of gossip she got with me, no matter how salacious. I think, if she knew of something of the sort, she would have at least told me of it.” A soft smile and more steady tears. “She wouldn’t have been able to help herself.”

“She never could keep a secret,” Myrella said, gently swiping a thumb beneath Charisse’s eyes. Her form shuddered, breaths coming short and quick again, and she dissolved into another fit of torment, each cry echoing off the stone and down the vineyards.

Emmeline hoped whoever did this heard it. Hoped they felt the despair seeping through the air, the misery and mourning settling like a cloak on the Academy.

Warmth flared at Emmeline’s back, and a piece of parchment materialized beneath the mystlight lantern in Roremar’s hand. Still silent and observant, he pinched it from midair before it could flutter away. His jaw tensed as he read it, his hand bracing Emmeline’s back as he crouched beside her.

“I have to go,” he whispered in her ear, so close his lips brushed her skin.

She shivered. “Why?”

“There’s a problem at Desmond’s.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

Emmeline

“You really didn’t have to come,” Roremar told her for the dozenth time as they exited the foothills onto the Promenade.

“I wanted to,” Emmeline swore. She didn’t add that she’d needed to get out of the Academy. For the sake of her own memories, but also because she didn’t belong there right now. Didn’t belong with Charisse’s mourning or Myrella’s tears. She hadn’t known Liana like they had, and it felt like a lie to allow herself to hurt with them.

“Desmond didn’t give any further detail?” she asked to change the subject.

Roremar shook his head. “He just said it’s the parlor.”

“Not the apartment, then,” Emmeline muttered, mostly to herself, but Roremar’s relief was impossible to miss.

“Not the apartment.”

They crossed the wide Promenade, cutting between benches lined with Starsearchers. Though some were relaxed, heads tipped back and laughing, there was a general air of unease on the isle these days. More than one person checked over their shoulder, scurrying to their destination.

The door to Fated Ink was closed, but through the wide window looking out onto the Promenade, the distress on Desmond’s face was evident.

“Fucking stars.” Roremar raced ahead and threw the door open, the bell overhead ringing in an off-kilter chime. Emmeline followed him inside, her boots crunching on broken glass.

“Oh, Fates,” she whispered.

The parlor had been ransacked. Mirrors broken, shelves torn off walls. The remains of vials of ink and shredded designs splattered the tiles.

Desmond stood in the center of the mess, hands on his hips as he stared at the floor. “Came in to open for the night and found the place wrecked.”

“You weren’t open this afternoon?” Roremar asked, carefully stepping over an upended table and turning to help Emmeline.

“Had some shit to deal with,” Desmond growled. An anger that contradicted his usual casualness rose Emmeline’s nerves. “I moved all my appointments back. The door was closed and mystlights off when I left my apartment this morning so I don’t even know when it happened.”

“The lock was intact?”

Desmond grimaced, nodding. “And my key downstairs.”

Carefully, Emmeline strolled along the gallery space. Desmond must have had incense or candles in here that got exposed. Her magic was pulsing harder than usual against her veins, pinpricks of starlight piercing her vision.