“I don’t feel any different.” I toy with the belt of my dressing gown. “How do I know if I even got a gift?”
“You did.”
“But I haven’t done anything. I haven’t summoned shadows or lit anything on fire.” My shoulders slump. What if something is wrong with me?
“It will show up eventually. Sometimes it takes a while. There’s things you can do to test it, to learn how to wield it. But after you rest more. It’s too soon.”
I ignore his advice. I’ve been resting for too long. “Did she tell you what my mark was?”
“No.”
I rise from the bed, then untie the robe and shrug it off my shoulders. It falls to the floor around my ankles. I’m wearing a nightgown with small straps on each shoulder. “I want to know what it looks like. The ladies who helped me were not very specific.”
“I should tell you to put that robe back on.” The look in his eyes tells me he won’t.
I push one of the nightgown’s straps down. “Do you want to see it?”
He runs a hand though his hair. “I should say no.”
“But?”
“But I don’t want to.”
I lower the other strap so only my hand is holding the nightgown over my breasts. Then I turn my back to him and let the fabric drop to my waist.
He’s quiet a long moment, and I start to get nervous. “Is something wrong?”
“It’s stunning,” he says. “The twin moons. One is full, the other a crescent. Below them is a raven, with its wings open.”
“A raven? Can you trace it for me? Show me where it is?”
I shiver as he drags his fingertip gently across the left side of my back. “This is the full moon.” He moves to the other side. “This is the crescent.” Then his hand drops lower. “This is the raven. Here is the head, the beak, one wing, the other wing, and the tail.”
“Thank you.” I slide the nightgown back over my shoulders, then turn to face him. I know the fabric is thin enough that he can see my nipples through it. “Can I see yours?”
He lifts his tunic over his head and holds it in one hand. Swirls of black cover his chest and arms. I move closer and place my finger on one of the swirls at his shoulder, then trace it down to his forearm. It spirals around his forearm, then ends in points at the base of his hand. Another circle crosses over, just above his wrist. It’s different than the other markings. There are leaves on it, like a vine. But only on that one part. The rest of the swirls are undulating lines.
“How did I not notice those leaves before?” I ask.
“They’re new. Appeared the night of that rebel attack,” he says.
My brow furrows. “You can get new markings?”
“Yes. Usually they’re small. I’ve noticed it tends to happen when I learn to do something new with my magic. But sometimes, I’m not sure what causes it.”
“They’re really beautiful,” I tell him. “I’m glad you’re sharing them with me.”
“There’s more.” He turns so his back faces me, and I suck in a breath when I see the mark there. It’s the moons. Both of them—one crescent, one full. “Is it the same as mine?”
“They’re on opposite sides,” he says. “But I think they’re a mirror image to yours.”
“Does everyone have the moons?” I ask.
“No.”
I return my gaze to Brevan’s back. Under the moons, he also has an animal. “That’s a dragon.” Between the blood and my attempt to be respectful, I hadn’t seen the details of his markings before.
“Yes.”
