The next morning, I woke up in Fieran’s arms. I shifted, feeling his ring pressing uncomfortably between us, and pulled on the leather cord to draw it out from between us.
His signet was tail—either serpent or dragon, both suited him—sword, and crown. Looking back, I could curse myself for not figuring out he was the prince. Perhaps Fieran oversold just how clever I was.
Fieran blinked, asleep one moment and awake the next.
“What am I doing in your bed?”
“Snoring, mostly. I didn’t know mortals made such dreadful sounds.”
I shifted away. He caught me with his hand on my hip, drawing me back toward him. “I’m kidding.”
“I didn’t snore?”
“I did know mortals could snore.”
“I am never going to like you,” I told him.
“Never, Never.” He didn’t sound as if he believed me. His fingers overlapped mine, examining the ring in the light. “You took a shifter down yesterday.”
“Thanks to the ring?” It was a half question. I’d never heard of such a powerful relic before.
“You were the one who acted. The magic just tilts luck in your favor.”
“I think it does far more.” The loan of the ring made me feel unsettled.
I needed it for the next trial; I couldn’t deny that after seeing what happened the day before. But it was a powerful gift.
Fieran seemed like someone whose gifts came with not mere strings, but chains.
“You are bad at trusting people,” Fieran murmured, as if he could read me that easily.
I leaned up on my elbow. “And you are bad at being trustworthy.”
He gave me a grin, but no denial. “It does please me you’re wearingmysigil, even before I claim you for my clan. That’s enough for me. Ander will never see you in his sigil.”
“Jealousy again?”
“He always wants what is mine. He won’t be able to resist trying to pull you away from me.” He ran his thumb over the engraving. “But I gave you my magicandmy mark.”
He sounded so self-satisfied to have claimed me, and part of me felt satisfied by that too. It was an impulse I despised in myself. “I want to wear my own mark.”
“Your own sigil?” he mused. “Perhaps you should have one. Every shifter does, as a sign of power. It is a reminder you belong here.”
“I could use it to markyou,” I pointed out.
His gaze met mine, golden and smoldering and far too intimately close. “Is that image supposed to scare me?”
Suddenly, I could barely remember how to breathe.
He pulled my hand to his bare chest. “Show me what your mark would look like.”
I rolled my eyes, but I still traced my nails over his chest. His torso rippled, his muscles tightening in response to my touch; I could’ve sworn he was holding his breath.
I liked seeing the effect I had on him, which seemed just as devastating as his effect on me. That was why I decided to play along.
“I’d make part of mine a wishflower.” I ran my finger in a line from his shoulder down to his dark nipple, marking the vine, and felt hishand flatten against my back as if he wanted to pull me closer. “Because mortals seem to surrender all magic. That wishflower was always in the forest. I should have searched for it.”
He nodded. “What else?”
