“Kulta’ra.” I pull my hand from his as I say it again. Ilryth releases me, but I hardly realize he’s there anymore. The fingers of my right hand brush over the markings. “Kulta’ra…”
The more I say the word, the more melodic it becomes. Easier on the mouth but, just as he warned, it’s harder on the mind. Pain is budding at the base of my skull.
“Kulta’ra.” That time was almost like singing. I tilt my head back and sigh, “Kulta’ra.” The notes start low, then high, then low again. I repeat it, changing the intonation. High, then low. All low. Again, and again.
As I sing, images flash before my mind. My life is like a violent thunderstorm across a night sea. The visions spin before me and I pick one as if I could reach out and pluck it from the rest.
It’s that memory of the creek. The first time Charles told me I was beautiful. The first time he kissed me.
“Kulta’ra.” With a word like a sigh, that singular moment in my history slips through my fingers, gone forever.
I open my eyes, blinking down at the markings on my forearm. The markings Ilryth had pointed to have shifted. Gold now lines the magenta in new shapes.
“Well done,” he appraises, his own song ending.
“Let’s do another,” I say.
“I think that’s enough for one day.”
“There is no time,” I remind him forcefully. “Another.”
Ilryth merely stares, long enough that I worry I’ve somehow offended him. Finally, he says, “You are a truly fearsome but impressive creature.”
I throw him a look that’s somewhere between forced smugness, and all my hard-won confidence. “I know.”
We begin to sing again.
* * *
Hours later,he brings me to my new room. A lovely place of carved coral walls, perched higher up on the far back of the manor, with a balcony that overlooks the distant trench. Ilryth leaves me, his expression as guarded as I have ever seen it. But I am too exhausted to try to parse out what it is that’s bothering him this time.
So far as I can tell, I wasexceptional.
I mastered three words. Which means…I gave up three memories?
As I lay atop a bed of sea foam, I wonder what memories I gave up. I slowly replay my life, from the earliest details I can recall—or, I think I can recall—in order to this moment. My thoughts snag around eighteen years.
There’s a blank void shortly after the first time I met Charles in the market, but before him asking for my hand. What was there? Something…surely. Something to do withhim.
A wicked smile crosses my lips. He thought he had marked my soul. But I unraveled his hold on me legally. And now, I will eradicate all memory of him.
My life’s only regret might be Charles not knowing just how easily I could expunge him.
CHAPTER13
The next morning,Lucia comes to me at dawn. She sings, moving her hands over my body, unlike Ilryth, she’s diligent to never quite touch my flesh. Markings appear with her songs in deep red strokes. Though, my body doesn’t flush in quite the same way as when Ilryth last marked me.
The thought of him has me searching for a topic to distract myself.
“Do the colors mean anything?” I ask as I hover, waiting for the next series of markings.
Lucia is behind me; based on the tiny currents, her fingers are somewhere between my right shoulder and spine. As the song-turned-color seeps into my flesh and begins to writhe, it almost feels like she’s lightly scratching with her nails.
“They do. Red is for strength. Blue for luck. Black for truth. Green for vitality. Magenta for promise. Yellow for prosperity…”
She lists off other colors, most of which I’ve yet to have upon my flesh.
“It sounds like I will be quite the masterpiece when I’m done.”
