He fell into step beside Sebastian as they made their way into the giant cathedral. The roof of the nave stretched far above their heads, the evening light illuminating the stained glass windows and giving the white arches a soft glow. From the quire, the ethereal notes of the chorus echoed through the cavernous space.
“The Five Sisters was restored this summer,” Lord Fine murmured, as they approached a grouping of five tall and narrow stained glass windows that rose to high peaks at the top. “It’s a memorial now, to the women lost in the war.”
Sebastian stood at the windows for a long moment, waiting for the tide of threatening memories to subside. Lord Fine lingered next to him without complaint, his own gaze on the memorial. Maybe Lord Fine wasn’t a tourist, but Sebastian didn’t believe he was as devoid of feelings as he claimed.
Outside was a small green park with beautiful views of the cathedral in the last of the day’s light. Sebastian pointed to one of the towers, where a sleek gray-and-white bird with a curved yellow beak was perched on a gargoyle. “What is that?”
“Peregrine,” said Lord Fine, because he probably could see it better than Sebastian. “And even I’ll admit falcons are a worthy sight.”
Sebastian smiled. “See? It is good we stopped.” He then turned to head back to the car.
But Lord Fine cleared his throat. “I keep catching the edges of your tattoo under your sleeve when you move your hands. It’s a paranormal tattoo, is that right? It’s what keeps us hidden?”
They were mostly alone in the park save for another couple admiring the falcon and a mother and child walking hand in hand toward the street. Sebastian glanced down at his left wrist, and sure enough, his shirtsleeve had rucked up enough to show some of the ink. “Yes. Isabel was able to weave our magic together.”
“Does she do a lot of paranormal tattoos?”
Sebastian shook his head. “She does other tattoos, yes, but mine is the only magic one. We were not sure it would work.”
“Why risk it, then?”
Sebastian shrugged, as casually as he could. “I was going into the service of a telepath,” he said. “It felt worth any risk to protect my mind so he could not read my thoughts.”
Sebastian and Isabel hadn’t known about the Puppeteer, about the blood magic that could slither its way even past the tattoo. But there would have been nothing they could have done anyway.
“May I see it?” Lord Fine said lightly. “Now, before nightfall? I’d like to know what’s keeping me safe.”
“Of course.” Sebastian reached for his cufflink, and worked the stud out of the hole at his wrist. He began to roll up his sleeve, still palming the cufflink—
Lord Fine caught his wrist. “Devilishly awkward to do yourself, isn’t it,” he said breezily, as he took over, casually rolling up Sebastian’s sleeve for him.
It was such a small, simple touch, but Sebastian seemed to have forgotten to breathe. Surely Lord Fine could feel his pulse in his wrist, a rapid staccato under the warm fingers that brushed his skin with every movement?
Sleeve out of the way, Lord Fine turned Sebastian’s arm until it was upright. “So it’s an abstract design, then? Swirls of color?”
That was all anyone else ever saw. “Yes,” Sebastian started to say.
Except Lord Fine had tilted his head back, getting more distance from the tattoo, and said suddenly, “Oh, it’s a lion!”
Sebastian’s eyes widened.
“A lion for your name,de Leon, like the Latinleo, I presume?” Lord Fine went on. “I see him now, the rampant lion—there’s the mane, the legs, all of it almost hidden.”
“It’s supposed to be.” Sebastian’s voice had gone hoarse. “That’s the magic. It hides me, so the lion is—”supposed to be“—hidden too.”
How could Lord Fine see it?
The magic couldn’t be wearing off—could it?
“It’s quite a fine work of art.” Lord Fine sounded genuinely impressed. “What are these marks around the tattoo?”
Sebastian froze.
When the moment stretched out, Lord Fine looked up, away from the tattoo and into Sebastian’s eyes. “They’re not part of the tattoo, I can see that now that I see the lion,” he said slowly. “They look like burn scars.”
Sebastian bit his lip.
“Sebastian,” Lord Fine said, still holding his wrist. “You don’t have to sugarcoat things for me. What happened to you?”
