Page 59 of White Raven

Filth, gashes, scratches, welts, and dried blood streaked every inch of my skin. The temporary betrothal runes appeared like stained dirt on my limbs and face. My dirty, knotted silvery hair fanned over my shoulders. Uneven, severed pieces framed my scraped and bruised face. The once-pretty bodice was ripped, soiled with blood and muck, and haunted by whoever wore it before me. Someone who gave more of their flesh than I did.

Tears burned in my eyes when they latched onto the red, scabbing skin . . . pulling focus, declaring to everyone I was owned. Ink branded my neck in a thin hasty line, symbols branching off, stopping between my breasts. Deep black ink engraved my pale skin with the same matching diamond shapes and lines I saw Onyx put on his own hand.

Pairing me to him.

Last night’s incident was different when seeing it in the cold harshness of my reflection. Coming to terms with the permanent pigment on my skin.

The White Raven being lowered to nothing but a thrall.

Property.

Anger, grief, denial. They slammed into me with the force of a snowstorm, whirling and twisting, blanching my vision with panic I had been holding back.

I. Had. Been. Tattooed.

Violated. Helpless. My nails raked across the tender wounds, a yowl coursing my throat. I wanted them off, I wanted to rip off my skin, tear out my hair, and shed myself of everything that hurt. Everything that trapped me in this nightmare. One that I had no control over.

The pressure of my entire life struck my bones, weakening my legs. Sliding down to the ground, I tore at the bodice, scraping at the tattoo, tugging at my locks.

A bang against the door filtered somewhere in my consciousness, but I was no longer in the present. I was locked in my own hell. Panic consumed me, pulled me down to its feral state, where I wanted to die. To feel relief. There I had power. Control over my life.

“Hey!” A figure fell onto his knees in front of me, hands grabbing for my fingers, tearing them from my bleeding chest. “Stop!”

Thrashing against him, I shrieked and spat, needing to breathe, needing to not feel like this.

“Wrennlyn!” My name pierced something in my gut, it was an order, a demand, withdrawing me slightly from my haze. “Calm down.” His hold was tight, wearing me out quickly, my shoulders slumping forward, my screams turning to erratic sobs. “Breathe, kanin.”

He clasped my face. “In and out. Slowly.”

My lungs obeyed, mimicking his, as I stared up at him. The lamp flickered over his face. The stubble along his strong jaw took my attention to his mouth, mesmerized by the scar on his top lip. I had always recognized somewhere that he was visibly very handsome, probably exceedingly desirable to the Night Raven women. But I never let myself see it. Because he was a murderer, a kidnapper, an enemy to my people . . . but mostly because I deemed him lower. Someone I would never consider in relevance to my station. Now I was the one marked with no importance. The one who was considered property and sold like an animal.

“You tattooed me.” I sounded like a little girl who’d lost her innocence to the world, her eyes now open to the unfairness of life.

He swallowed, his gaze staying on mine. “I did,” he muttered, his thumb sliding over my chin, grazing my claw marks. “You would have gotten it eventually. The Night King would do the same.”

“You think that makes it better?”

He cleared his throat, dropping his hands from me. He reached around, picking up the rag and bowl, setting it next to him. Silently, he started to clean off the blood.

“What is the Night King going to do to me?” My voice small, I flinched as he dabbed at the scratch marks over my raw skin.

He inhaled through his nose.

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know or won’t tell me?”

His nonanswer suggested the latter.

“But he needs me.”

“Seems the White Raven is in high demand for many.”

“Only for power.” I scowled.

“Everything is for power.” His gaze lifted to mine his irises layered with depth. “The moment you understand that is the moment you understand how this world works. You can wield it for yourself. No longer the pawn, kanin, but the queen.”

Our eyes latched together, the clout of his statement seizing the air around us. He was giving me insight, a way to fight back differently, understand the bigger game being played.