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Chapter 9
Keliveth
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Ijerk away instinctivelyas a lance of pain shoots through my hand, but Evya keeps a firm grip on me. I suck in a breath between my teeth as Evya jabs the needle in again and again. When I finally dare to look down at my hand, I see a thin, curved line of ink just above my knuckles, along with drops of blood.
Evya covers the point of the needle with ink again and continues her work, sending a wave of fire through my bones. I anticipate her next jab and pull away, only to have the needle miss and sink into my knuckle. Evya lets out a sharp hiss.
No more flinching.Setting my jaw, I look away just in time for her to bring the needle down.
“Am I going to have any skin left when you’re finished?” I grit my teeth as Evya stabs the tattooing needle with a series of rapid strokes. “Ow!”
“Shush.” Evya swats my arm. “Unless you want the sea to think you’re weak.”
“Never.” I sit taller and stifle a groan as she keeps jabbing the ink into my skin.
“The pain will get easier as I go on.” Her voice turns softer, and I recall the lines of ink that twine up her legs and encircle her arm. She, and probably every other Atathari, has endured this torture at some point. I let that thought bolster me.
“Try to focus on something else,” Evya goes on. “What else do you want to know about the challenge?”
Thankful for the distraction, I dredge up every question I can think of about the challenge, the contenders, and the Atathari tribe. As Evya marks the lines of the rune across my hand, she describes the simple ceremonies that typically surround the challenge. Then we move on to the different feasts and dances the tribe celebrates during the ten-day Shantura festival.
All at once, a wave of magical energy floods over my tattooed hand. I jump with surprise and look down to see a completed rune. The design is asymmetrical, comprised of tight spirals that gradually grow larger as they travel up my wrist. I’ve never seen a pattern like this before. I start to ask her about it, but she has already shifted her attention to the next rune.
She orders me to sit up, then runs her finger along my ribs. A shiver of pleasure runs over me at her touch—cut short when she raises the needle again. I barely have time to brace myself before she digs the sharp point into my ribcage. She marks four small runes on my chest, each accompanied by a different flash of magical power that resonates through me. She’s right—I grow used to the pain as long as I keep my mind focused on something else.
By the time she begins the final rune—a complex pattern of interlocking round knots on my right shoulder—we’ve talked about everything from the traditional fighting style of each merroc tribe to the types of food made for each night of Shantura.
Now there’s nothing left to say about the challenge, at least until the Seamother announces the specific task the contenders must complete. Because of the unpredictable nature of the rite, there is only so much I can do to prepare. Ultimately, my success won’t come down to how well I’ve studied, but whether I’m able to meet the challenge with enough courage and quick thinking.
In an effort to distract myself from the stinging pain in my shoulder, I study the freshly inked runes on my left hand more closely. It’s a beautiful design, and Evya’s steady hand has marked each line cleanly and precisely. The swirls remind me of vast waves breaking on the shore.
I would find the aesthetic pleasing, except that the lines of the tattoo reach almost to my fingers. So much for my plan to keep the marks hidden beneath my clothing. This one, at least, will be on display for all to see. How will Falamar and the rest of the nobles will react? No respectable elf lord would think of marring their skin with tattoos, let alone magical ones made by the hand of a tuath.
I clench my jaw and try to focus on anything besides those nagging worries. I’m a Dalzana. I always knew it was my lot to be set apart from the rest of my people. These runes are a small price to pay for the ability to survive and fight underwater. This is just one more test of strength, as everything in my life has suddenly become. I need to embrace it.
Passing the tests will be worth it. I knew that from the moment I set eyes on Evya.
I turn my head enough to catch a glimpse of her as she works. She kneels on the sandy beach beside me, unconscious of her own grace as she focuses intently on the elaborate pattern she’s creating on my shoulder.
I turn a little more toward her, then cringe as my newly tattooed shoulder burns at the movement. She flashes me a smile in return.
“What rune are you inking now?” I ask through a clenched jaw.
