Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 121339 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 607(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121339 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 607(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
She couldn’t look over his shoulder without rising onto her tiptoes. Instead, she angled him a bit, leaning against him and glancing at his Fallen. They waited idly, chatting amongst themselves like they had all the time in the world. She let her gaze swing toward the stormbacks, but she couldn’t help but think about the appearance of the hard chest against her. Or the perfection of his back and the amazing design covering it.
Do your tattoos mean anything or are they for appearances? she asked as the breeze caught and flung her hair.
He grabbed a strand and curled it around his fingers. The stormbacks?
Oh. She leaned away so her hair would pull out of his fingers. They’re getting into a half-circle formation, facing the north.
He sighed, looking off at the trees. I really shouldn’t be impatient. They are saving us a lot of time. It’s just…
Tattoos?
He glanced down at her again. Something indecipherable lurked in his eyes, his true emotions hidden behind his carefully cultivated humor. They mean something. He took a small step back. His arms flexed as he unbuttoned his shirt, revealing each delectable inch of skin as he went. Since you enjoy looking at my nudity so much…
She pressed her lips together at the taunting tone but couldn’t deny it.
He pulled the shirt away and paused, giving her a chance to once again marvel at his incredible physique. He reached for her hand and brought it up, using her finger to trace the design across his chest that looked like a thick necklace curving against the edge of his pecs and then wrapping around his neck. Her nail scraped his flesh, raising goosebumps.
This was a necklace that was burned into my skin by Equilas when she helped trap me in the Obsidian kingdom. It’s a marker of station. Not with the Obsidian kingdom but—
As a High Sovereign. I haven’t forgotten. Or…I guess…the memory hasn’t been taken from me yet.
He stilled, his brows pinching together in confusion. She didn’t miss the flash of hope lighting his gorgeous green eyes.
Every time someone looks upon this necklace, he said, not commenting on her retained memory, they get a flash of recognition. Every time, I wonder if they’ll know who I am. If I’ll regain some piece of my former life within their knowledge of me. And every time, their eyes dull after a moment. Well, dull or turn to disdain. I’m not well loved within the Obsidian Court. I’m feared, so I’m given a wide berth, but at best I’m tolerated. I do not fit in there.
Like she didn’t belong in the magical zone. She remembered his sentiment in the hotel room those many months ago. She remembered feeling connected with him. This was why.
She nodded, taking in his pain and bearing witness to his struggle. This time, she didn’t move away when he wrapped a lock of her hair around his fingertips.
These—he lifted an elbow to indicate the tattoos on his arm—are my rings of ascension. They denote the various trials I have mastered through training and perseverance.
What kind of trials?
Magic, weaponry, battle planning…various things. The trials are open to all of Faerie—to anyone who wishes to ascend. With each mastery, a title is granted and added to our name. The title increases status. The marker on the arm is proof of ascension. The royals of the Diamond Throne are pushed to collect as many as they can. It looks good for the Sovereign if you have at least ten. Most are able to do this.
She frowned as she rubbed her thumb across one of the lines. How is this proof? Someone could just make the tattoo themselves.
He broke out in goosebumps again as her thumb traced his skin. What you see is not…how they should look. It’s further mockery of my situation. If Equilas sought to make me harder than any fae has a right to be, she chose the correct tortures. If she sought to make me cruel, more cunning, more willing to destroy…she chose correctly there, too.
Her gaze flicked back and forth between his eyes, seeing the darkness lurking there. The wicked deviousness. This fae had suffered, and it had crushed him into something she could identify with. Something dark and twisted, maybe not magically, but certainly morally.
“Is he telling you he didn’t really earn all those rings yet?” Niall called over, the others all watching. A couple of them snickered.
Tarian shifted uncomfortably. “I…had an advantage.”
“Bullshit,” a female with bright red hair down to her waist said, a braid running down each side of her face. A splash of freckles stretched across her nose. “The amount of power a person possesses only helps in one of those trials. You mastered the others because of natural talent and staunch determination. We were with you—we saw the many hours you put into training.”