Page 204 of Blade of the Nightking

His gaze snapped to mine in the mirror. "It’s glowing."

"Glowing?" I echoed weakly, my thoughts scattered.

His hand stilled. "Can I touch it?"

I swallowed. "Aren't you already?"

“No.” His thumb shifted, pressing into the center of the mark. We both gasped as a sudden jolt shot through me, racing down my spine and exploding through my body. His voice was ragged. "But now I am."

I could feel it—impossibly. My magic.

I thought it had been drained during our trek through the salt flats, but it was still there, swirling on my back, just beneath the surface of my skin.

I knew the shape of the mark without looking. My magic had taken its form.

Beneath the slow movement of his fingertips, it spread from the bargain mark in warm, languid currents. The glow brightened his face. His hand stilled and his head dipped slightly, dark hair falling across his brow as his eyes fluttered closed. A rough sound escaped him, low and unguarded, and heat unfurled through me in response.

“I… can feel it.” His words emerged almost breathless.

I fought the wild urge to lean into his touch, but before I could, he withdrew his hand.

The loss of contact shattered the spell. I turned too quickly, my back meeting the mirror with a soft thud.

“How?” The question was easier to focus on than his phantom touch. “How is this possible?”

The shirt he'd found remained forgotten somewhere behind him, leaving him bare-chested. Pressed against the mirror, I had nowhere to go but up—my gaze climbing from the broad expanse of his chest to the strong column of his neck, and finally to his face. The scrap of ivory fabric shielding my chest suddenly felt woefully inadequate.

From this close, I could see every detail—the fullness of his lashes, the thin scar cutting through one eyebrow. His eyes weren't simply dark but a rich, earthy brown. The silver flecks that normally peppered them were gone, leaving his gaze startlingly open and expressive. Unable to hold that stare without feeling something tighten inside me, I dropped my gaze.

Which was a terrible mistake.

My attention snagged on his mouth instead, on lips I now knew could curve into a devastating smile, one that revealed the deep hollow of a dimple and transformed his entire face into something unfairly beautiful.

The realization sent a fresh wave of heat through me.

As though he were only just becoming aware of how little space remained between us, his gaze drifted over my face, tracing the line of my jaw, my cheekbones, my mouth, before dropping to the hollow of my throat and the curve of my collarbones.

The magic should have been the most unsettling thing in the room. Instead it was the fact that, despite every warning bell sounding in my head, despite every reason I had to keep my distance from him, some reckless part of me was far more aware of how close he was standing than of the impossible discovery we'd just made.

Slowly, almost reluctantly, he took a step back. The clench in my stomach eased, and I exhaled a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.

“Your magic is intelligent.”

“What does that even mean?” My voice came out embarrassingly thin.

“Rather than be drained by the salt, it hid inside the bargain mark itself.”

I stared at him. “It can do that?”

One corner of his mouth twitched. “Yours can, apparently.”

“But you said salt⁠—”

“Drains magic,” he interrupted. “It does. A wielder's power begins weakening the moment they step onto the flats. But bargain magic is different. A struck bargain channels something far older than ordinary power—magic as ancient and enduring as the Veins themselves. It can't be weakened or tampered with. Your magic knew exactly where to hide.”

“Have you ever heard of magic doing that before?”

“No.” He shook his head. “But Eidrae magic learns.”