“Is the shop in Palerman closed?”
The bearded Mystique shrugged. “I’ll keep both, but there’s more need of me here now. With so many of our next generation migrating to Damenal to train for their Undertakings, it only makes sense.” His eyes swept over the room, taking in the crowd who had come to see the legendary tattoos inked for the first time in years. His gaze froze on someone tucked in the corner. “Malakai.”
His head snapped up. Malakai plastered a smile on his face, the group parting so he could approach Marxian.
“It’s good to see you,” Marxian said, voice thick.
Malakai’s shoulders tightened as they clasped hands. “And you.”
How painful was this for Malakai? Watching his friends receive the tattoo solidifying a fate taken from him. Was it too much? Was I being horribly selfish in coming here tonight?
But I needed to do this for myself.
Still, I placed a hand on Malakai’s arm and squeezed once, to tell him I was there. He gave me a tight-lipped smile before stepping back and fading into the crowd.
“The four of you then?” Marxian whispered.
“That’s right.” I smiled.
He directed us to the table we’d lie on. “Who’s first?”
“I’ll go.” Cyph stepped up, untying the linen shirt he wore tonight instead of his leathers. I rolled my eyes when warriors behind me muttered appreciations of his body. Cyph had probably just earned himself a dozen new admirers.
“What’s the purpose of it?” Esmond asked, watching Marxian prepare the needle.
I was surprised he hadn’t been taught our customs; Mystiques studied most clans’ public practices and declarations of loyalty, and the Bond, the Band, and the Bind were no secret. But I explained the purpose of the three tattoos. When I mentioned the Bind was to be received last, his eyes dropped to my arm, then flitted to Malakai, full lips pursed.
“I like to break rules sometimes.”
A hint of appreciation swept through the Bodymelder’s eyes.
“Will you be receiving the other two tonight, then?” Vale asked, watching Cyph settle face down on the table, the muscles in his back flexing.
I hadn’t thought past the Bond, the thin outline of mountains we’d receive on the back of our necks to mark our success in the Undertaking and tie us unbreakably to our cause. I supposed we could receive the Band, too, solidifying our ranks within the Mystiques.
“Can’t do both,” Marxian said. He tested the needle on a scrap of paper. “The magic is too strong. I condone rule-breakingsometimes, but I won’t do that.”
I nodded, understanding.
“What does it feel like?” Esmond asked.
Erista’s sharp voice answered, “If it’s anything like mine, it’s very personal.”
I didn’t know the purpose of the Soulguider tattoos—theirs being more private than ours—but Erista had a gold band around her forearm with a crescent moon in the center. I imagined the sensation was similar to what I’d experienced, given that all ink was fueled by the same magic, even if it took different shapes.
“It floods your entire body. It’s…all-encompassing and instills purpose,” Vale added. She rubbed a hand over her shoulder, pulling her hair across it.
“That’s a beautiful way to explain it,” Cyph said, propping himself on one elbow to survey the Starsearcher. His stare was inquisitive, searing.
“What did yours feel like?” Tol asked, leaning against the wall beside me, eyes tracing the North Star on my arm. The room quieted.
“It was intimate. The most intimate thing I’ve experienced.” The sensation of unknown power working its way through my blood androoting itself within me was a promise I’d never forget. “Like a thread pulling through every facet of my body, driving into my bones. Then, it stopped. And it waited for the other half.” My eyes found Malakai’s across the room. “And they tangled together. Two slips of soul becoming one.”
“Can you feel each other through them?” Esmond sounded clinical, a scholar gathering research on the body.
I flushed, unable to look him in the eye. I didn’t know how to explain the disjointed feeling our Bind had always given us and was reluctant to share a flaw or weakness with the crowd whose eyes burrowed into me. I looked at my feet, my thumb stroking over the tattoo.
“Did it hurt?” Tol asked loudly. His eyes remained on my star, jaw ticking.
