More practically, a hand was easy enough to cut off, as Adela had so unintentionally demonstrated. Eira didn’t want to makeit easy for someone to cleave this mark from her. She wanted them to work for it—to kill her for it.
“My chest.” Eira reached the natural conclusion aloud. “Low in the center, between my breasts.” Somewhere that even the most revealing clothes would likely hide.
“Sounds painful, but it’s your body.” Allun shrugged. “Take off your shirt and lie back.”
Eira did as she was told. The moment the table hit her bare back, her skin puckered into gooseflesh.This was happening. Allun paraded all manner of sharp instruments as she finished sorting herself. Olivin continued to stand at her side. Clearly, he still held his reservations. But his expression was as determined as Eira felt.
“Once I start, I will not stop until I’m finished,” Allun cautioned. “It is too much risk to both of our magics for me to stop halfway.”
Eira looked up at the woman, feeling somewhere between a patient awaiting a doctor’s skilled hand, and a slab of meat before the carver. Her chest being completely exposed to two strangers hardly struck her as odd, given the circumstances. Eira realized she couldn’t care less who saw her body. She had nothing to hide and was proud of every line and scar that had been carved into it. Perhaps this would be the one she was most proud of, of them all.
“I won’t ask you to stop.” Enhancing her magic would be worth any pain.
Though, perhaps Olivin’s comments wormed their way into her mind. Though likely not in the way he’d intended.What would Adela think?The rogue question was instantly answered with a gut instinct that was too sudden to be wrong:
She would be proud.
The notion emboldened her. This was what Adela would do. The pirate queen wouldn’t be afraid. She wouldn’t hesitate toclaim power. And she certainly wouldn’t let anyone else have her second-guessing.
“Let’s do this,” Eira emphasized.
“Very well. Let’s begin.” Allun selected a thin knife, as delicate as a fountain pen. Liquid swirled in a chamber behind it. “As much magic as you can muster, please. Flood yourself with it.”
Eira concentrated, her vision softening as she eased her focus on the room before her and brought it internally. She had reached for her own channel most of her life. Had been perfecting widening others. And yet, trying to do so on her own remained slippery and elusive. Still, she tried.
Frost coated her skin, pouring off her in waves of white and flecks of snow. Within, Eira imagined the ocean to be filling her. Blood replaced entirely with cold seawater. Nothing but the endless tempest of storm and waves.
Yet, the first strike against her breastbone felt like an earthquake. Her focus threatened to crumble. She exhaled, as though punched in the gut.
“Come now, you’re stronger than that,” Allun chided lightly, and sank the blade in farther.
Eira gritted her teeth, focusing on her magic. Focusing on the ancient magics that were fusing with her own. She would weave magic into herself like Lightspinning, like the runic arts.
Wave after wave of white-hot pain ripped through her. In the ebb between each, her power surged. Frost numbing the pain. Knives and needles punctured her skin, ink blooming between scars into an intricate pattern that she couldn’t see but could feel so sharply that she could almost draw the design.
Magic etched its way into her flesh, her blood, her channel. It felt as if she were a lidded tank, filling with water. Too full. Too much. And yet more came. The pressure building.
She would not break.
Her joints popped and bones creaked. Eira’s jaw squeaked from how hard she was clenching it. Hours dissolved into mere seconds. Each exhale more horrible than the last. Each inhale strength she had only ever imagined.
She would not break. It was a mantra. Over, and over, and over again. Words that perhaps were spilled from chapped and whispering lips like too many tears that had been shed.
The pain was a price and it was her turn to pay. There was no other choice, no other way to become the person she had to be to end Ulvarth. No one else could afford this cost—nor did she want them to. She would endure. She would take the blood on her hands and the hatred that would follow. She would be their nightmare.
The infamy and the power. It would all become hers.
All at once, it was over. Allun came back into focus as she took a step back, examining her work. For a second, it almost looked as if she were going to lean back in and start anew. But, to Eira’s delight, she didn’t.
“You’re an impressive material, Eira,” Allun said tiredly.
Eira sat, the excruciating pain forgotten the moment she looked down at her chest and saw the rune that had been carved into her flesh, raised slightly with scars, a constellation of dots and lines surrounding it as if it had been physically woven into her. Her fingers lightly pressed against the symbol. It was icy to the touch.
As she rose to her feet, she felt different, stronger.
Unstoppable.
18
