Wandering down the hall to the sitting room, she went still at the fire in the hearth on the other side of the room. Cethin was standing before it, his back to her with one hand in his pocket. He’d lost his jacket, the garment tossed over a nearby armchair, and he’d pulled the band from his hair, letting the strands brush his shoulders. He’d rolled back the sleeves of his tunic, the material tight around his biceps. She wasn’t sure where the cord for the union went.
Clearing her throat lightly, she took a few more steps into the room, and he turned, smiling softly. Plucking up wineglasses from a nearby side table, he crossed the space, passing one to her.
“Come warm up by the fire,” he said, already halfway back across the room.
“I’m warming up already,” she replied, keeping her distance. Instead of going to the sofa in front of the hearth, she lowered into an armchair farther back, tucking her feet beneath her.
He studied her, clearly trying to decide why she’d refuse such a thing, but she didn’t offer any explanations. Instead, she said, “Tell me what I just committed to. Why do I bear a Mark and you do not?”
“I do. And you committed to a marriage,” Cethin answered, abandoning the hearth and moving to the chair across from her. With his legs spread wide, he propped his temple on his fist while his wineglass dangled from the fingers of his other hand. He’d undone several buttons at the top of the tunic, revealing the pale skin of his chest. “That is what the Bargain was.”
“Yes, but I assumed that meant a standard union with a standard Union Mark,” she countered, taking a sip of her wine. The sweet and crisp notes danced across her tongue.
He shrugged. “It was not specified when the Bargain was made.”
“How convenient,” she deadpanned.
He smirked, bringing his glass to his lips and holding her stare while he took a drink.
“Since this wasn’t a standard union, what did I commit to?” Kailia pushed. “You said it was something your family chooses. What does that mean? And where is your Mark?”
He reached for his shirt, pulling it open wider to show her the left side of his chest. Sure enough, a pale silvery-white Mark was there, glimmering like moonlight, but his sat atop another Mark, this one black.
“Why is yours there? And why does it look different?” she demanded.
He smirked, letting his shirt fall back along his skin. “Because that is where I decided I wanted my Mark to go. You chose your hand.”
“I didn’t—” But she snapped her mouth shut when he arched a brow. “You could have told me…”
But he had. He’d said she needed to pick the place. She’d assumed he’d pick his hand so it was visible to everyone. A public claiming. She hadn’t expected him to put his Mark in a place few would see unless he was shirtless, even if they’d only be visible at night. It made her feel as if she were some kind ofsecret. Something he didn’t want to claim in public, and it made no sense. She didn’t care, but he’d sure made it seem likehe’dcared these last few months. Instead, he’d opted to place his Mark directly atop another one, as if it didn’t matter to him at all. As if she wasn’t deserving of her own place on his flesh.
Something in her chest made a weird twisting motion at the thought, and she took another healthy drink of her wine before she said, “How is this different from any other union ceremony?”
Something like concern flickered across his features, gone in the next breath. “My bloodline has traditions of its own. Celestial Rites are one of them. Many of them have been adopted by Avonleya. Our Farewells and unions taking place on full moons, for example. But a Lunar Bond is a sacred rite that is kept closer. More private. Not all choose it, but some do.”
Kailia turned her hand over, studying the shimmering Mark on her palm. “It will just…disappear during the day.”
He nodded.
“Why would someone choose a Union Mark over this? If it is so much more sacred?” she asked.
“Union Marks are similar to mortal marriages. Simple and beautiful in their own right. But a Lunar Marriage is something more, and it can only be invoked by certain lineages.”
“Let me guess,” she all but drawled. “The royal ones?”
“Not always,” he answered with a small smirk.
She hummed, running the pads of her fingers along the Mark. “So, in essence, it’s simply a shinier version of a Union Mark.”
“No,” Cethin growled, and she straightened at the tone. At the utter fury simmering in that one syllable.
“Still your favorite word, I see,” she murmured, draining her wine.
“Union Marks can be dissolved,” he said tightly. “A Lunar Marriage cannot. It is eternal.”
“So you’ve said.”
She was still bothered by…all of it. He’d used this as a means to tie her to himself, but he didn’t want that claim visible. If this rite was so much more than a union, if he was one of the few who could invoke it, why keep it hidden? The logical explanation was that it was because of her.
