“I knew you weren’t going to let that go.” He sighs, but doesn’t look upset that I’ve asked. “One true thing?”
I don’t hesitate. “Deal.”
“I got a tattoo when I was five. Same as anyone else.”
My eyes fall to his wrist, but it’s covered. Without asking, I take his arm. He doesn’t object as I gently peel off a glove and slide up the sleeve. My gloved fingers skirt over the bare skin on the underside of his wrist.
He shudders at my touch, but doesn’t pull away.
I meet his eyes. “You don’t have it anymore.”
“That’s true. And also untrue.”
I pull his wrist up to my eyeline so I can inspect it more closely.
Squinting, I see something I didn’t before. The skin of his arm is the same shade of brown, but there’s a patch at his wrist that’s ever so slightly discolored. “What is that? Powder?”
“Ink. I tried using powder, but it melted under fabric. So, I got a second tattoo with dark brown ink to cover the gold. It hurt like hell.”
Seeing my confused expression, he answers the question I don’t ask. “When my father summoned me for the first time,he didn’t even look at my face. He just stared at my tattoo. He was sickly and dying, but he looked at me like, between the two of us,Iwas the revolting one. I never felt so small. I’ve been covering it ever since.”
His gloveless hand flips my arm over. Realizing his intent but fearing his touch, I pull up my own sleeve, baring my tattoo for his perusal.
“It’s beautiful,” he breathes. “When I found out you were the Praeceptor’s sister and you still keep yours displayed, I thought you were the bravest person I’d ever met. You’re here every day, enduring their glares, and you never so much as flinch. I don’t know how you don’t let it get to you.” He reaches out to run a hand over the golden sun, but I yank down my sleeve before he makes contact.
He doesn’t seem surprised or upset by the rejection. “You made me regret hiding mine. Compared to you, I’m a coward. It’s ridiculous, isn’t it? So much hatred over something so beautiful.”
Everything he says is the truth. Which is odd, because when we first met, he told me he liked my tattoo, but it was a lie.
Wasn’t it?
I recall the moment. What he actually said was: “I never got a tattoo, though. Wish I had. Yours is stunning.”
At the time, I felt the heat of magic and assumed he was lying about wishing he’d gotten a tattoo, or admiring mine. But he wasn’t. The lie was in the first part of the sentence, where he claimed to have never gotten one at all.
Kaidren thinks I’m brave. He thinks the stares don’t crawl under my skin and make me want to scream. The truth is, if someone had given me the option to hide my tattoo when I first arrived, or even a few weeks ago . . . I’m not sure I’d have been brave enough to decline.
“Your turn,” he says gently.
It takes me a moment to realize he means it’s my turn to share a truth about myself.
I’m speaking before I’ve ironed out the emotion from my voice. “I had Honorate robes too. Luc brought me and my mom a few of his father’s old ones before I lived with them. They were soft and warm, and he figured we’d use them as blankets, but I liked to put them on. Look at myself in the mirror and imagine what it would feel like to walk into a room and command respect.”
What it would be like to have everything and fear nothing.
By the time we reach the top of the mountain, it’s late and I’m exhausted.
We’re right outside Widow’s Hall. Kaidren still has a short trek from here to the Vale manor, but he doesn’t make to leave. Instead, he stands before me, shuffling his feet the way grey-horns do to keep warm.
It’s not snowing tonight, but it’s cold enough to freeze flames solid, and loose snow piled on the ground drifts in the night breeze.
I don’t know why Kaidren is still standing here, watching me like he expects me to do something, so after a few moments, I turn to leave.
“My aunt really likes you,” he blurts, stopping me.
Confused, I face him again. “I liked her too.”
His lips part to say something; then he closes them and clears his throat. “Probably because she doesn’t know you like I do.” His words are teasing, but his gaze is startlingly intense.
