“Neither have I, so we can suck at this together,” Yasmeena replies, and the tiniest pang of relief fills my chest, before I remember once again who she is and what she’s done.
“Anything else I need to know, or any more rules to follow?”
Raph smiles. “While you’re here, you work for me just like everyone else. You and Yasmeena will practice an act together for The Sinner’s Circus. You’ll do your aerial silks during the daytime, but we’ll give you a few weeks to practice before making you perform for an audience.”
That’s not unreasonable, but everything makes me want to cry or scream or throw up. All three, actually. This overwhelming feeling consumes me, taking over every molecule of my body.
“Alright,” I say, because it’s all I have left in me.
“Absinthe has been very excitedly working on a project for the two of you, can we head over to her workshop?” Gemma says as she stands. Everyone else gets up, Raph and the hybrid exiting the room, but Draven lingers protectively. “Goodbye, Scorpion.”
He kisses the top of her head and crosses through the doorway.
We continue down the dirt-lined path until we reach a smalltent. There’s a warmth coming from within, and I follow cautiously as Gemma leads us inside.
A half-demon I can only assume is Absinthe is standing in front of a jewelry welder and a clamp holding a metal ring. She lifts up her face mask and places the blowtorch on the table. “I’m working on the second ring now, but you can see the other one in its little case.”
We walk over to where she’s pointing, and it might be the most beautiful piece of jewelry I’ve ever seen. There are two oval gemstones nestled next to one another, equal in proportion. One is a light, bright blue that’s almost green, the other a golden topaz. I look up at Yasmeena and it dawns on me.
They’re our eyes. It’s as if our heads were resting against each other’s, our eyes almost touching. If this engagement wasn’t a sham, the sentiment would be beautiful. And that’s exactly the point. This is excellent marketing—this half-demon has outdone herself.
“It’s interesting,” I say aloud, and Yasmeena nods.
“I think it’s ethereal,” Gemma says, holding up her hand. “Absinthe made mine as well.” The ring on her finger is a bright, ruby red. It’s heart-shaped, a crown-like halo surrounding the gemstone. “We’ve got a show tonight, we should start getting ready.”
Exiting the workshop, Yasmeena and I walk towards her tent in silence. She shows me inside, and it’s nicer than I expected. It’s not over-the-top, but there’s a vanity and some pieces of furniture.
There’s a small bed with my suitcase leaning against it, the worn teal leather out of place against the blacks, whites, and browns of the fabrics and wood that fill the room.
“I’m going to go get changed,” she says, and looks back at me. “I’ll see you later.”
Surprise ripples through me, followed by the reminder that this felion isn’t my friend. She is part of the organization thatkilled Tyrus, and she is actively working against the lupion people. No matter how considerate she might behave, she is not kind.
“This isn’t goingto hurt too bad,” the tattoo artist says.
My tank top is rolled up to expose the bottom of my spine, and I feel like an exhibit at a museum as my Alpha and the others stand over me.
“And even if it does hurt, you will not cry,” my father says, his tone stern. “Alphas and seconds aren’t allowed to cry.”
The needle is loud and I swear I can feel the vibrations before they reach my skin as the artist tattoos the first drop of atra into my skin. It’s a strange, magical sensation.
I’m feeling the tattoo needle, feeling his gloved hand against my back, sure, but what I mostly feel is this euphoric high. Part pain, part tingling, he is literally infecting me with magic that will live in my body, becoming one with me.
It feels like ice, which is perfect given the rune I chose. I know we can’t decide how effective the atra is, but I hope the magic in me is strong. Stronger than my father’s, and stronger than the demons and half-demons we face.
“It’s a shame you were so weak,” my father says, staring at the tattoo. “But now you will be stronger.”
I want to be the strongest second to ever live, and serve my cousin well.
My eyes flutter open, and I realize it was all a dream.
No, not just a dream. A memory.It’s how I got my magic. I may not always agree with my father’s decisions, but this one was wise.
The felion is asleep in the bed beside mine, and I try not to notice the warm vanilla scent she gives off, or the way she quietly mumbles.
She’s so beautiful, it’s a shame she’s such a nuisance.
Movement No. 6
