“I mean, it’s only a rough sketch,” she replied, as if she hadn’t just perfectly sketched a trail of smoke that looked so incredibly alive that he could have sworn he’d seen it move. Cason kept gaping, watching the Night Terror assassin blush and fumble over her words. “It’s… the shadow temple was different. There weren’t prescribed symbols for the affinities. When a shadow-blessed went to get their ink, they visited the Shadow Speaker who studied the shadows and magic within the person and shaped the ink to reflect that image. Always smoke-like, but no two symbols were alike.”
He frowned and glanced at the shadow-magic tome, realizing that it was just a wall of text with no images. “How did you know what to draw?”
“I’ve seen graffiti before, and I pulled a few ideas from that children’s book Serill begged me to read the other night,” she said with a shiver, tracing her finger along the edge of the paper in front of her.
Cason chuckled at that, remembering that she and Serill had compared the nightmares they’d gotten. “It didn’t surprise me when he said that you used to talk to the imaginary celvusa under your bed. Maybe in a different life, you could have been the Shadow Speaker.”
Something lightened in Brela’s gaze, her own lips twitching as if she had just realized something, but whatever it was, she shuttered it with a casual shake of her head. “Anyway, I drew those because they’re easier to catalog and reference later. Since I don’t have a magic to speak to, I just drew it based on what I liked.”
“It’s incredible,” he breathed, still looking at the paper since he swore he’d just seen the smoke move. Good gods. Incredible wasn’t even a powerful enough word for her skill. The unique swirls, the precise lines, the intricate details… he straightened. “You designed the tattoo on Elias’s shoulder, didn’t you?”
She blinked and nodded. Then flushed again. “He’s like me. He only got the ink he liked, which happened to be all the strength tattoos, and refused to attend any of his herbal graduations. One day I was just playing around with a new idea and he saw what I was drawing for him. He basically hauled me over his shoulder that instant and dragged me to the markets for supplies. An hour later, I was inking it.”
Somehow, despite not knowing much about the man, that sounded a lot like Elias. “Did you draw one for Farrah?”
Brela shook her head. “She’s not ready for one.”
Cason frowned. “I saw the ink on her upper back. I guess I thought you did it since the lines were different and it doesn’t match her strength.” And with the way Farrah had admired his storm ink in Averlyn, and even her stray gaze toward his other markings as they trained yesterday, it didn’t make sense.
Once again, Brela shook her head. “Not my story to tell.” A soft smile. “But when she’s ready, I know exactly what hers will be.” Brela huffed and surveyed her papers, wiggling the hand she’d been writing with. “I got carried away with drawing. I’m never going to keep track of all these papers on this trip.”
It gave him an idea.
Cason hopped up and wobbled slightly as the room blurred. “Good gods, what did you put in that wine?”
She echoed his groan. “Nothing, that’s the problem. I didn’t realize the bottle I stole from the kitchen hadn’t been watered down.” With a grunt, she folded her body forward, legs still splayed in a vee as her hair spread in smoke-like waves over the papers.
He blinked at her for a moment, at the flexibility and the very dirty thoughts that he didn’t bother pushing aside, before he finally remembered why he stood.
He pulled his desk drawer open and took out a leather notebook, flipping through the pages to make sure it was indeed empty.
Brela hadn’t moved by the time he walked back so he nudged her leg with his boot. Leaning down would only result in acting on all those very tempting thoughts still playing in the back of his mind.
She let out a hiss as she slowly unfolded herself and looked up. That glare of annoyance suddenly turned to a frown.
“What’s this?”
“A notebook. There’s a folder in the back so you can store the stuff you’ve already done”—he gestured to the loose papers—“but you can draw or write whatever else you need to and have it all in one place.”
“Thank you.” Brela cautiously accepted the book, her thumbs tracing over the leather delicately. With the way her eyes studied him instead of the notebook, it looked as if she was keeping herself from showing excitement over the gift. “Did an ex-lover give you this?”
If her strained look hadn’t given her away, he would have easily heard the deflection in her voice.
Jealousy.Fascinating.
“No, Serill’s mother did.” He waved off Brela’s raised brow. “Queen Aleida gets me one every year. I mentioned at the moon temple on my first day—in passing, mind you—that I admired the quality of Serill’s notebooks. I didn’t know what to say to him so I just said the first thing I could think of.”
Brela snickered, but she was clearly holding back what he’d expected to be a very loud snort.
Cason cooled his features as best he could and pointed to the door. “If you’re going to make fun of me, get out.”
Brela stared at him, blinking slowly, and then burst into laughter. It was so bright and so lovely that it took him by surprise. He’d imagined her howling with laughter at the pranks she’d pulled on Boelyn, but he never imagined the sound to be so… beautiful.
An assassin with a featherlight and cheerful laugh that brought her to tears.
Four hells.
Cason felt his smile spread as he watched her nearly roll over and knock her stacks of paper loose. Instead, she flattened herself on the rug and let out a long sigh as her laughter finally eased. Her eyes flashed to his, widening with delight.
