Page 11 of Queen of Wrath

I stared down at the padded mat, absentmindedly listening to the clanking and jostling of metals and glass in the background.

No wonder I didn't see her shop. Technically, there isn't one!

As the giant woman walked back into the room, I quickly sat down on the padded mat. I had made it just as she entered the room.

“So what's with the sudden desire for one of my expert tattoos? Bored of the stuck-up, rich life?” Her humorless chuckle rumbled within her chest as she moved around little glass bottles of ink.

“Yes, actually.”

Her expression changed completely in response.

“You seem surprised.” I kept my voice monotone, raising a delicate eyebrow at her.

“I never thought I'd see the day… Did you grow up around here?” There was something about her deep voice that soothed me.

The entire time I'd been back, no one—other than Rowan, of course—had shown any interest in getting to know me on a more personal level. It was a good thing I supposed, but also maybe somewhat disappointing.

Rowan, Akil, and I had spent weeks coming up with an airtight backstory for me, only for no one to ever bother to ask me about it. It was probably why a tingle of excitement sparked through me for a second.

“No, I didn't. I'm new to Anterra. I was able to move here due to my skills as a Potionist.” I smiled at her. I hardly knew this woman, and yet I felt closer to her than most people I had met.

“Impressive. I guess that means my tricks aren't going to impress you.” She snickered as she drew the ink out of the bottle with just her fingers.

I watched in silent awe as the black liquid levitated in the air above her hand, a bluish-purple aura glowing around it.

She tipped out another ink bottle, and it joined the ink forming in the air. “What were we looking for today?”

“Oh!” I looked around nervously. “I guess I didn’t get that far in my head yet. I just wanted to cover this up.”

I pulled down the sleeve of my robe, revealing the marking burned into my shoulder.

Her eyes narrowed at the marking, staring at it for far longer than what I was comfortable with. Did she recognize it? There was no way. Then she spoke, putting me at ease.

“Why would you want to cover up a beautiful thing like that? A strong werewolf pact is rare, you know? This one seems to have transcended much time.”

“I don't care. It's bad enough that I have to feel it there, I don't want to look at it.”

She stopped pushing the moment she saw the look on my face. “Alright. I'm no one to judge anyone's past. Let's get this thing covered up then… All you have to do is imagine it, picture it in your mind, and I'll create it.”

I relaxed my thoughts, trying to imagine how I wanted the tattoo to look.

The first thing I thought of was the herbs my parents used to hang in the window. A static sort of sensation began forming around where my marking was, but my focus on what she was doing broke as I fell deeper into my imagination.

I could practically smell the herbs drying on the window sill. I could hear Mema shuffling around in the kitchen. Somewhere in the distance, I could hear a baby crying.

Jason…

A burning pressure built behind my eyelids, but I forced the tears back. My whole body ached as I felt myself coming undone. I’d buried these emotions so deep inside me, focusing only on my hatred to get me through, but now they were threatening to burst out?—

A stinging pain began biting into my shoulder where my marking was. It wasn't a feeling I had ever felt there before.

I felt like I was being stabbed with a thousand tiny needles. Of course, this was nothing compared to the torture I had endured while at Ryklira. I opened my eyes and looked over to Dai.

Her eyes were glowing with a vibrant azure blue. Her nails were extended to fine points as they dug into my skin.

The ink flowed around her like a stream that didn't have to adhere to gravity.

“There!” she exclaimed, guiding all the ink back into their glass bottles.

---