Page 105 of Black Sea

On the arms, on the chest, on the back.

I wanted Amlach’s eyes to burn every inch of it.

I wanted him to understand.

“It is such a relief that the ugliness you had to suffer in the Lands of the West has marked your body in only a very minimal way, Your Highness,” the handmaiden who had looked after me since my birth suddenly said.

She had a bronze complexion, a significantly larger upper lip compared to the lower one, a broad nose, and very long braids, ebony like her eyes, which she almost always kept half-closed, constantly peering at what was happening around her so as not to let anything slip.

“I wish it were so, Thessab.” I smiled ruefully, placing my hand on the one with which she was tracing one of the thin, whitish scars on my biceps. “But unfortunately, the wound from the arrow that pierced my shoulder required many stitches. The healer of the man who held us in slavery did what he could.” But he didn’t have the skill or the high-quality tools used by elven healers.

Yesterday, two of them had come to visit me to try using our exceptional healing ointment, but it had no effect on the already-healed wounds. They had also considered reopening them one by one to allow the cream to work, but I had categorically refused.

They were part of me now.

Suddenly, I noticed that the two maids, who were combing my hair to make my golden waves even fuller, had stopped and were trading furtive glances with Thessab.

“What is it?” I demanded, puzzled by the strange atmosphere that had just settled over the room.

Thessab looked at me through the mirror, appearing just as confused. “You have no scar on your shoulder, Princess.”

I gave a faint, bittersweet half-smile. “I wish that were true,” I murmured.

But I had spent days and days in front of the mirror when we were in Rubra, monitoring the healing process. And day after day, I had seen the flesh reseal poorly, until it formed an irregular, dark-pink thickening. Eventually, Amlach had convinced me not to look at it anymore so that I could forget about it.

But the sensation of my skin pulling around the scar, even with the tiniest shoulder movements, never let me forget it was there.

And I didn’t want to forget that I had jumped in front of Amlach to save his life.

Thessab moved my hair over my shoulder and pointed to the mirror with a sweeping gesture. “See for yourself.”

I gave her an indulgent look and obliged, turning around to watch the generous part of my back exposed by the pointed neckline, bordered with floral lace appliques.

The next moment, I froze.

The scar on my shoulder blade was gone.

63

It was the work of the Spirits.

This was what my old nanny had said when she’d seen the blood flee my cheeks. The maids were moved as she was, calling me blessed.

However, when my eyes had fixed on the spot where the embossed scar was supposed to be, I hadn’t felt touched by the kindness of the Spirits.

I had felt scratched by darkness.

Something was wrong, I told myself as I walked down the corridors that, from my wing of the palace, would lead me to the central building. I needed to find Amlach before he joined the celebrations and ask whether he had noticed the scar disappearing during our final days in Rubra.

I swung the door in front of me open. I was hurrying across the luxurious corridor where I found myself, heading toward the door behind which secondary stairs led to the first floor, when I noticed a tall figure in the grand atrium at the main entrance to the compound.

A figure I would recognize among hundreds.

Moving as if hypnotized, I stepped forward beneath the semicircular balcony. From it, two winding flights of stairs with intricate handrails crafted from light natural wood and gray marble steps matching the floor descended.

With his hands clasped behind his back, Amlach was studying the enormous fresco snaking across the walls, illustrating the final battle against Mornon. His gaze was focused on the main scene, which depicted the fight between me and Mornon the Abomination.

As I drew closer, I took in his image, enhanced by his teal robes with lighter embroidery that resembled the veins in his irises. The flickering glow of the candelabra flames on the walls appeared to dance on the coppery highlights of his hair, which was so thick that the tips of his ears were hidden.