Chapter 11
CHAPTER
11
When I arrived back at the manor, I intentionally sped past my mother and father who were lounging in the parlor and headed straight for Versa’s room. I barged my way through her doorway and found her fiddling with jewelry and diadems; another frivolity of being a bride-to-be.
She turned to me in excitement, but I slammed the door behind my back and screeched, “I have a bone to pick with you, sister.”
“What?” she exclaimed, bewildered.
“In all your wild stories you shared with me, in all the recounting of your escapades, do you think you could have mentioned the fact that our wings can just uncontrollably unfurl with climax?”
I was still fuming from the preventable embarrassment I had experienced with Trace. I blamed my naivety on Versa. Of course, she had to have encountered this before. My sister’s cheeks turned red as she tried to hold in an audible laugh.
“How was I supposed to know you didn’t know?” she pleaded, her eyes seeking forgiveness. She wasn’t going to get off that easily. I could still see that twinge of amusement in her features.
“How many of your trysts have we discussed, and not once did you ever mention it,” I complained, waving my hands in disapproval.
Versa nervously twisted the necklace in her hands and looked up at me through her angelic lashes.
“Well, sister, if you must know, it’s never happened during one of my so-called trysts.”
I had already planned my retort but paused.
“What do you mean? It’s never happened to you, like ever?”
Versa smiled back at me sweetly. “It’s only ever happened when I’m with myself, alone. I taught myself how to control it so that it wouldn’t happen unless I wanted it to. I didn’t think I ever needed to mention it; you may be inexperienced with others, but it’s not like you’ve never been alone with yourself.”
She had an extremely valid point. But all those times I’d never even felt the slightest stir of my wings. My sister’s eyes widened with the same realization.
“Not even on your own? Never?” she said, aghast.
I shook my head. Before I could spend another second wallowing, she was in front of me, squeezing both my shoulders in enthusiasm.
“My Gods, who was this stranger you were with and what did he do to you?”
My sly smile betrayed me.
“Tell me everything,” Versa beseeched me.
My parents were more than happy to see me at dinner that evening. I had to admit, spending all afternoon recounting the details of my and Trace’s time together had done a fair job of distracting me from the uneasiness I had felt on the return home.
For those few hours in Versa’s room, I embraced the feeling that I could ignore my impending reality and just gossip with my sister like it was any other day. I had felt weightless, but now that the distraction had passed, I couldn’t deny the heavy feeling in my chest that had returned.
The heaviness was more than just these feelings toward Trace. It was the unbearable sadness of being separated from my sister for the rest of my days. It made me hope that my days with the king would be short. Fleeting waves of incapacitating grief continued to flood over me. I didn’t want to live without her—or my parents.
They comprised my entire world. My family, my friends from the academy, and even the staff at the manor. I loved them all. This small piece of the world was mine, and I could feel it slowly cracking all around me. And I knew that in just a few short weeks it was going to completely shatter.
My heart was breaking at the thought of leaving them.
Leaving on a lie.
I was glad Trace had said he didn’t want me to return for a week. It was a built-in excuse to stay close to home. The moment I stopped to pause, breathe, and look around the dinner table at the smiling, jovial faces of my loved ones, I knew that this was where I wanted to be. Everything seemed natural. They ate, laughed, and discussed normal things as if nothing awful was about to tear through this family.
It made me realize that since the horrible news had been delivered to me, I had been moving so fast. Focusing on the list, I hadn’t slowed down to take it all in because I didn’t think I would be able to bear the weight of the truth. But today I was feeling a little bit stronger. I needed to sink myself into this chaotic storm of feelings or I wasn’t going to make it out alive.
I wanted to stop feeling like I was suffocating in this house at every chance of seeing their faces. If I didn’t spend this time committing all the details to memory, then how could I ever expect those memories to carry me forward? Through whatever lay ahead.
After all, by serving as the Offering for the realm, I was serving my family too. That’s what I told myself. I would muster up the courage to leave them so that they would be safe, and, most of all, so that my sister would never feel this indescribable loss that I was now grappling with.
That night I crawled into my bed, noting the incomparable difference to the one from the inn. The cool chill of the bedsheets and the noticeable absence of Trace’s warmth brought back a flood of memories. I felt the heat of the blush coloring my cheeks. I rolled over to pull out the infamous list from my nightstand and crossed through another two items with a smirk.
Lose my maidenhead
Seduce a stranger
Gamble till I win
Get drunk
Alter my appearance
Help someone in need
Get a tattoo
Do something that scares me
Swim naked in the moonslight
Say my goodbyes
(Twenty-five Days Remain)
In the early morning, I awoke with an idea burning in my mind. Another item to check off the list. I rushed to make myself presentable, hoping that Versa would be willing to go along with my bold proposal. I knocked on her door and was shocked to find her still in her bed, hardly stirring. A few beams of light seeped through the window, drawing lines across her bed and the floor. She had always been much fonder of mornings than I.
I cozied up beside her and whispered playfully in her ear, “I have an idea, if you think you’re brave enough.”
She rolled over to face me. How is it possible she looked this pretty in the morning? Did I look even half this lovely in the early light of dawn? She nudged me and replied sleepily, “I’ve always been braver than you.”
“Prove it,” I said, pushing aside the memory of taunting Trace with the very same line.
“Get up,” I continued, standing to rip the covers off her body.
I walked over to the window sill, yanking the drapes open wider to let more light canvas the room. I recollected the number of times she had done this to me, and I had to admit, it was amusing to be on the other end of it.
“We’re getting marked today,” I stated plainly. Versa sat up abruptly in surprise.
“What! A tattoo? You’re kidding, right?” she exclaimed.
“Why not? I’m going away. You’re starting a new life with your fancy husband-to-be. We should mark the occasion. Permanently.” I turned to her with a mischievous look.
Tattoos weren’t considered very becoming, especially for High Ladies like ourselves. My mother always showed distaste for my father’s: a small symbol showing his allegiance to the merchants guild. I thought he liked to pretend it was more serious than it was.
I was solidly convinced they all got them while drunk and abroad, then had to find some cover story to tell their spouses. I didn’t mind it at all—in fact, as a child I found myself envying my father for it and wanting my own to match.
It was on the inside of his wrist; a small anchor with a Seafarer’s knot tangled around it, and at the top of the anchor was the letter N for North. It irritated him when someone pointed out that the N was not directionally aligned with a real compass. He’d explain that the N was figurative, meaning true north. It was a reminder that no matter how far away from home his travels carried him, we were his true north, his final destination.
I adored the meaning and was shocked he’d even come up with something so thoughtful. He wasn’t the overly sentimental type.
Versa didn’t take much convincing. At breakfast, we were extremely nonchalant about our intention to head into town that afternoon. My mother tried to insist on sending an escort with us, but when I gave her a look, she did not put up any further disagreement.
When we entered the stable to gather our horses, the hand didn’t miss a beat. It was the first time I had seen my crested saddle atop Rain in days. I gave him a small wink of gratitude and headed toward the town with my sister at my side. By the time we arrived at the artist’s shop, I had still been waffling about exactly what I wanted.
She and I sat nervously in the front of the shop, trying not to giggle at the absurdity of what we were doing. My mother and father likely cared little for anything I’d do with my body. But, Versa, on the other hand, was about to be on display at her wedding in front of many well-to-do nobles.
An extremely tall and very slender female approached us. Her black hair was short and choppy, not a style you’d commonly see on females. Her appearance was a bit androgynous; attractive, in any case. Tall cheekbones and all sharp angles. She had a bare midriff, seemingly uninterested in the current styles.
Perhaps the oddest aspect was that we were supposed to believe she was the artist who would be tattooing us when every inch of her greatly exposed skin was devoid of any marks. Not a single tattoo in sight. I was becoming more anxious with each passing minute.
“Are you…are you the artist here?” I muttered.
“Don’t look so disappointed.”
Before I could even get the words out, Versa chimed in with the same thing I had been thinking.
“But you don’t have any tattoos,” she said with a concerned look.
With an indifferent tone, the female said, “I’m covered in tattoos, maybe you’re just not looking hard enough.”
My eyes widened with her admission. Was she glamouring us? That was the only way to explain her claim.
She waved us toward the back of the shop with a look of annoyance, like she’d had this discussion many times before.
“My tattoos are for myself, and those I choose to let see them.” She pointed at the chair.
I eyed Versa, trying to give her a look that said stop staring.
“I’m Taran. Now that the pleasantries are over, what are we doing today?”
I could hear Versa snort at the curt introduction. I supposed she had the personality I’d expect from someone who had to deal with all kinds of unique patrons.
I tried to sound confident in my decision. It had only come to me a short moment ago, and already, I was beginning to doubt myself. I really should have spent more time thinking it through.
“I think I’d like the three moons of Demir.”
She showed no reaction to my request.
“Where?”
“Uh...behind my ear, if that’s alright?”
I figured it would be easy to conceal with my hair in most styles, and that way I wouldn’t have to deal with any sort of scolding from my parents or outside judgment in the future. I thought back to Trace’s massive tattoo covering his arm, and it made me wonder if he was ever treated differently for it. He wasn’t a member of the king’s court like we were, so it was unlikely. A different life, with different expectations.
Taran nudged me to lie down on the table with the side of my head angled toward her and the sunlight beaming through the window. I lay there facing my sister, preparing for what, I didn’t know. I wasn’t sure how painful this was going to be, but she held my hand for courage regardless.
I could feel Taran move my hair aside and gently run her fingers behind my ear. A shiver ran down my spine with a flashback of Trace and his breath.
“Why’d you choose the three moons of Demir?” Versa asked.
“You’ll probably think this is silly, but one moon for each member of my family: Father, Mother, and you. And because when I’m away at sea, they will be my constant. Depending on where they are in the sky, I’ll always know which direction leads home.”
Before I could finish my words, Versa added, “Like true north, guiding you back to us.”
I could feel the stinging in my eyes as I fought back the tears; she had no idea how much I wanted that to be true.
Taran asked, “You ready?” I nodded and Versa squeezed my hand tighter.
From the mirror on the wall, I could see Taran begin to work. She closed her eyes and raised both her hands, palms facing inward. She began to move her hands slowly in what looked like an intricate and delicate dance, and as they swayed in unique patterns in front of her, I felt it. A burning, heavy sensation behind my ear.
Though I couldn’t see it, I could feel every single piece of the design come into reality. My palm was sweaty in Versa’s hand and I squeezed hard, attempting to ignore the pain while also relishing the unique sensation. A cross between tiny blades slicing and a hot burning, like a brand. I couldn’t have been more thrilled to have picked such a tiny design, because despite the beautiful movement of Taran’s hands in the mirror, I knew without a doubt I could not handle this feeling much longer.
I tried to imagine someone doing this to her; covering her entire body, and the pain she would have endured to achieve that. If I had gone through that I would probably be showing off every inch of my art to the entire world, so they knew just how strong I was.
When Taran dropped her hands and opened her eyes, I could feel the burning subside. She grabbed a small can of salve and dabbed a bit across the new tattoo behind my ear. The sting that lingered was minor, and the cooling salve was already doing its work. Versa grabbed a small mirror and held it up above so I could see. There it was, just like I had imagined, three tiny crescent moons hugging each other nestled behind my ear. It was perfect.
“Your turn,” Taran directed Versa, who laid down where I had just been. “What’ll it be for you?”
“I hadn’t come up with anything half as good as what you did, Cress, but I love it. Would you mind if I get the same?”
Honestly, I hadn’t thought there was a chance she’d even go through with this, and I certainly didn’t mind the idea of hers matching mine.
“Of course not,” I replied gladly.
Suddenly, Versa sat up and rotated, “But I want mine on the opposite ear. She is my other half, after all.”
I was grateful Versa was now facing away from me because there was a swelling tightness building in my chest, and I was doing everything possible not to cry at her words.
I held Versa’s hand as she did mine, and as Taran began her beautiful movements once more, I heard Versa’s cracked whisper, “I hope it does lead you back to me.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat and squeezed her hand tighter, unable to utter a single word.