Osheen’s lips tug down. “Mam says they never grew back,” he signs. “And the crops have been sparser than usual this year.”
The others join us, equally curious. We catch them up on our discussion and Chiyoko says, “What are the odds that it’s just a coincidence?”
I shrug my shoulder and drop the petals at last, dusting my hands off on my trousers as I stand. “Perhaps invasive insects?” I suggest, but deep down I suspect there is something else responsible. I just can’t fathom what.
We soon mount our horses again—as much as I need to train my powers, it’s more important that we stay ahead of the Forayers.
Training is delayed.
We’ve been traveling for over two weeks since fleeing from Paramount, and I realize that I don’t know much about my travel companions. As we refill our waterskins in a small brook and give our horses a chance to rehydrate, Kilkenny’s sleeve slips back, and I catch a glimpse of the ink on his inner forearm. He firmly tugs his sleeve down again. There’s no point in trying to pretend that I wasn’t staring, so I apologize. “I never noticed until back in Dubh Carrig that you have a tattoo.”
“I’ve made sure to keep it hidden.”
The same way I’ve made sure to keep the brand mark on my arm hidden. I cork my waterskin again and reattach it to my belt as I stand. It’s no surprise that he doesn’t want to talk about his tattoo—he rarely wants to talk about himself. I remember his words back in Paramount:I said I’d keep your secrets, Garrick. I didn’t say I’d tell you mine. I know where I stand in the exchange of information, so I offer him a tight smile and turn to leave, but he waves to keep my attention.
Trying to feign nonchalance, I stand still and wait silently.
“When I was first conscripted, they branded me,” he signs.
My hand involuntarily moves to my forearm, where my own brand remains.
“When I started working with Alys, she noticed the scars and offered to tattoo over them.” He pulls back his sleeve and shows me the symbol inked into his skin. The tattoo extends from his wrist to his inner elbow, and I can’t help but smile at the almost predictable symbol he’s chosen.
“A sword. How fitting.” I smile at him.
He shrugs and one corner of his lips tilts up in a little smirk.
I suppose tattooing over the scars on his neck would’ve been too hard to conceal.
Chiyo and Osheen, who have been conspicuously eavesdropping, come closer to get a better look at Kilkenny’s tattoo. Chiyo grins at her brother, the apples of her cheeks and her nose flushed despite Alys healing her sunburn multiple times. “Daring,” she says. “I like it.” She regards her brother with a newfound respect. Her blue and brown hair is pulled back into two low buns, and her multiple earrings glint in the sunlight.
Kilkenny tugs his sleeve down again, and my smile fades as I remember the sear of the branding stick marring my own skin. Even now, I can almost smell my singeing flesh… I must wince because Kilkenny’s face grows heavy with worry. “Are you in pain?” he signs.
I release my arm where I’m clutching it across my torso and coax a smile to my face. “No pain. Just…” I glance at Alys who nods knowingly. “I was also branded when I was brought to Paramount.”
Kilkenny’s shoulders tense. He reaches for my left arm but pauses. “May I?”
Nodding, I watch as he unbuttons and rolls back the sleeve of my tunic. The burn has healed, leaving behind an unsightly scar in a gruesome semblance of the royal insignia. It’s a mix of dark brown and tan, and my skin is slightly raised in some parts, pulled too tightly in others.
Chiyo has her hand over her mouth, her eyes wide, and Osheen is no less shocked. Somehow it never dawned on me that they haven’t seen the brand before.
“Durvla, I had no idea they did that to you. I’m so sorry,” Osheen signs.
Kilkenny continues to hold my arm with one hand while his fingers lightly trace the outside of the scar. His touch sends a shiver through me and it’s surprisingly not unpleasant. There’s a degree of anger etched into his face despite his tender motions. He turns to Alys, “Is it too late to completely heal this?”
“She already did,” I say. “Well, she did what she could without looking suspicious, I assume.”
Regret ghosts across Alys’s face. “I sped up the natural healing process. I wish the circumstances had been different, so I could’ve healed it completely. I’m sorry, sweetling.”
“It’s fine, Alys.” I peer down at my arm again as Kilkenny starts to roll my sleeve back down.
His eyes are steely when they meet mine. “Who branded you?”
“One of the guards in the brig.” I dig into the recesses of my mind. “I think his name is Bronn.”
A spark of rage flashes on his face. “If he ever crosses my path, he’ll regret ever having laid a hand on you.”
My stomach does a somersault as his eyes promise violence.
