Page 181 of Heat of the Everflame

Drusila stroked a thumb across her tattoo, and its glimmering ink brightened. “The heart doesn’t care who itshouldlove. Only who makes it sing.”

“Indeed,” I murmured. I thought of my father, who walked away from his career for my mother. Teller and Lily, and their ill-fated love. And Luther...

My eyes found him instantly. Yrselle had returned, and they were talking alone in his corner. He didn’t look happy about it, his scowl carving progressively deeper.

His gaze snapped to mine. I started to turn away, but something roiling in his stormy expression made me linger. Something that sent icy fingers raking down my back.

“Can I see it?”

Taran’s voice dragged my focus back to the group. He was looking at Drusila’s wrist, his eyes round and aglow. She held it out to him, but as he reached for it, she jerked back.

“You may look, but I don’t let anyone touch it,” she said firmly. “Only my mate.”

He let out a dreamy sigh, seeming almost enchanted by her scolding. He nodded eagerly and clasped his hands behind his back.

She held it out again, and Taran and I both leaned in. It wasn’t a tattoo at all, I realized, at least not one I’d ever seen before. The symbol—an intricate knot of swirling lines that resembled two hearts forging into a dagger—seemed alive beneath her skin. It had a dull, silvery shimmer, but when her finger ran across it, it pulsed with a soft, warm glow.

“It’s so beautiful,” Taran breathed. “No matter how many I see, I never get sick of them.”

She beamed. “I know all marks look similar, but I really think ours is the prettiest.”

“It’s lovely,” I agreed. “But, um... you’ll have to forgive me, but... what is it?”

The entire group gawked at me, save for Taran, who looked lost in a daydream. I flushed, embarrassed by my ignorance.

“My mating mark,” Drusila said. “The ritual requires you to shed a drop of blood and commit your heart for all eternity. If the magic determines your love to be true and unconditional, then the bond is formed, and this mark appears where you bled. It connects you, in a way. He can feel when I touch mine, and—” She looked down as her mark flared brighter, then smiled fondly. “I can feel him, too.”

Taran clutched my hand to his chest and whimpered, resting his head against mine. “I want that.”

“You’re a hopeless romantic after all,” I teased. I glanced at Zalaric with a scheming grin. “What about you—would you like a mate?”

He kept his expression guarded. “Perhaps. If I ever meet someone worth mating.”

Taran tensed against me. He abruptly pulled away and stalked off across the room.

Zalaric’s eyes lowered, his mouth pulling tight.

“What about you, Your Majesty?” Drusila asked. “When you take a consort, do you plan to make them your mate, as well?”

“Oh. I, um ...”

Don’t look. Don’t look.Don’t look.

Like a moth to a crackling flame, a bee to a thorny rose, my gaze was lured against its will to Luther’s corner.

A corner that now stood empty.

I glanced around the room in search of him, but he was nowhere to be found. Gone—without even a goodnight.

“I’m not sure,” I murmured. “Excuse me.”

I turned away from the group and sulked over to Taran, who was rifling through a coffer of small glass carafes. “Whatever you get, pour me one, too.”

He grunted in response.

I watched with increasing worry as he prepared the drinks in hard, angry movements, splashing liquids haphazardly into glasses and slamming bottles down like they’d done him a grievous wrong. By the time he handed me my drink, more liquid had made it onto the table than into the glass.

He threw his drink back in a single gulp, then grumbled and started on another.

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