Tate sent him a frown as she struggled with irritation. She rolled up her sleeve and showed him her forearm with the geometric tattoo that represented her relic. “Not all artifacts appear as items. The most powerful of them become embedded in your body. Knowing its shape can help you figure out its purpose.”
Although she said that, those who could decipher the odd patterns the relics sometimes took were all long dead, and her memories weren’t exactly what anyone would consider reliable. Often, she only knew something when another item triggered the memory, as was the case with the pandora’s box.
At her reassurance, Vale’s shoulders relaxed. Moving slowly, he parted his robes, the tips of his ears growing redder as he unveiled a surprisingly well-developed chest. The defined muscles showed how much work he put into maintaining his body. They weren’t the sort developed by bending over a desk reading books all day.
Tate ignored his discomfort as she leaned closer, studying the slowly forming tattoo. Each second saw the color deepen as more details were added. It was like watching a watercolor painting take shape. A generalized impression transforming into an intricately layered image.
By the time it was mostly done, the tattoo was pure black with metallic flecks of red veins shimmering throughout. Three lines spiraled around each other, dots trailing off the edges until it took up a good bit of his chest.
Night balanced on his back legs as he joined Tate in studying the tattoo.Do I get one of those too?
“I don’t know. Maybe we should shave you to find out.”
Night’s whiskers tilted forward as he gave her a look that said he wasn’t amused. Tate coughed to hide her laugh, dawning a serious expression seconds later.
“Do you notice any places on your body that feel different?”
Most would feel a slight warmth from the manifestation. There might also be an increased awareness centering around the tattoo as well, but Tate wasn’t entirely sure. Even before Tate’s sleep, the relics from a pandora’s box were considered rare and almost exclusively the provenance of the Ijiri. All she could do was guess at their form based on her past experiences both before and after her sleep.
Night’s silence lengthened until finally she shot him a questioning look.It is the same.
“Don’t be too discouraged. These things take time and their form isn’t always the same for everyone.” Tate grinned. “One of Trace’s relics took the shape of a pendant earing. You should have heard his complaints. If it hadn’t been so useful, I’m sure he would have found a way to toss it into a deep, dark hole and forget about it.”
Vale’s eyes lit up. “The cat’s eye. It was said to be able to mitigate the damage from any attack.”
Tate nodded as they left the plain hallways behind, moving through the more decorated corridors of the main area. “Is that what he ended up calling it? Funny. He always referred to it as his bane. He hated that thing. Always said it didn’t fit his style.”
Vale gave the guardians protecting the inner sanctum a respectful nod as he followed Tate and the rest into the Savior’s cavern. He bowed in the direction of the statues before hurrying after Tate and Night.
“How do I use the relic?”
Tate considered, trying to remember the first time her relic had responded. A threat to her life had been the trigger, allowing her relic to act to protect her. Somehow, she didn’t think Vale or Roslyn would be enthusiastic at the idea of throwing themselves into danger to spark the same reaction.
She needed a safer—and more importantly, less life threatening—method to accomplish the same result. Unfortunately, most of what she did was more intuitive. Circumstance and instinct guiding her in the direction she needed to go.
That wouldn’t work as well for others. She needed something, even if it was small, to get them started.
Ahead, Roslyn’s head turned slightly to show she was paying attention to their conversation.
Good. That would make everything a little easier.
The duke paused on the landing of the stairs leading down to the temple district. Nothing in his actions made it obvious he was paying any attention, but something told her every bit of his focus was on her. It was written in the lines of his back and the way he didn’t descend despite the fact Tate and Vale had slowed their pace to give them more time for their conversation.
“The people responsible for the relics wanted weapons that couldn’t easily fall into the hands of others. They placed a lock on them that requires certain conditions be met before you can bond. It’s why not everyone is capable of awakening a relic.”
Sometimes those conditions relied on DNA, allowing those with a close familial connection with the original holder to use the relic. It was likely why Roslyn’s family held such a high rate of awakening for their family relics. They were once Jax’s. Stood to reason his descendants would be authorized to inherit them.
Others relied on something a little more intangible. Even Jax had struggled to explain why some relics refused to awaken even when keyed to a specific person. He’d pointed to body composition, brain waves, even personality to explain the discrepancy.
For Tate, it had been a lot less complicated. Simply put, it came down to whether the relic liked you or not.
Jax had always laughed at her theory, arguing that such a criterion would require the relic to be nearly sentient.
“There is a mental component with each relic,” Tate explained. “They respond the most to need. The stronger your desire; the better the connection and response.”
The duke sent a cryptic look at Roslyn, and Tate could practically see his wheels turning. It wasn’t a far leap from strong desire to critical need because your life was under threat. Tate wouldn’t put it past him to arrange events that would force Roslyn to adapt or perish.
Tate bit down on what she wanted to say as her gaze dropped to Night. Perhaps Night should lay off stalking Archie and aim his talents in other directions.
