Page 18 of When the Moon Met the Sun

I watched intensely for the next half hour or so as Robyn sat through getting tattooed with my family’s insignia and the symbol of the North: a flared wing with a crescent moon behind it. The tattoo was done in plain black ink, no color, and simply looked like a branding—to me at least. Robyn didn’t flinch once, not even when the needles first touched his skin.

Then, it was my turn. I was feeling extremely warm, but I tried not to think about it. I laid my arm out on the table as Kent placed the pre-drawn stencil on my inner forearm and got ready to tattoo.

I was about to be tied to the South for the remainder of my existence. It was about to be permanently inked on my pale skinfor the rest of my life. Even if I were to escape now, I could never truly know peace. I’d be wanted in both the North and South.

I watched the needles puncture my skin and felt my hope die along with it.

After another half hour, Kent was done. I had stared at pieces of Robyn the whole time, and I noticed he watched intensely as his family’s insignia was inked onto my skin. I looked at his shoes, which were brown combat boots that were somewhat scuffed—as if he thought he might have to hop into battle at any moment. The sun shining through the canopy of leaves above us made his brown hair glow with hues of red. The small scar on his jaw looked somewhat fresh, as though it had only been fully healed for a little while now.

Fortunately, he was so focused on the tattooing process he didn’t seem to notice me watching him. His eyebrows were furrowed together as he watched the needle puncture my skin repeatedly, and his smile had dropped.

I couldn’t help but wonder what he was thinking about.

I looked down at my arm as Kent announced he had finished and stared at the fresh ink there. It was a wolf’s head with a sun behind it. The Southern royal family’s insignia. On my skin.

Forever.

I was now, officially, tied to them.

“In action and law, the tattooing has been completed. I now present to you for the first time as a wedded couple: King Robyn Thorntier and his wife,QueenAviva Heartshire Thorntier!” the officiant announced, his voice booming throughout the room as the crowd rose from their seats and began clapping.

Robyn and I were led to the middle of the platform, where he lightly grabbed my sweaty hand in his and raised both his arms up, taking my arm into the air with his. He positioned our arms so both of our fresh tattoos faced the crowd full of facesdisplaying disgust, excitement, hope, and disappointment, then said in a loud voice: “My people, meet your new ruler, Queen Aviva!”

Chapter Eight

Robyn didn’t let go of my hand after he announced me as his queen and we were each ordained with the thick cloaks and crowns, both headpieces made of pure gold set with various gems—and heavy.

Robyn led me back down the aisle as the crowd continued to clap while we exited. Not knowing what else to do, I simply allowed myself to be led. At least we were moving away from all the people and their mixed reactions.

I didn’t know what to think of Robyn, orByn. Who was he really, at his core? All I knew was that he was now my husband, he was the King of the South, and he was a liar, apparently.

I could feel my zirilium starting to become restless under my skin.

He ushered me out into the hall and around the corner, into a small room that looked like it could’ve been a bridal suite of some sort. Likely where the royals got ready to make appearances before their people.

The second the door shut behind us, I spun on my heel to face him and said, “So the King of the South is a liar on top of everything else. Great to know!”

Robyn’s lips parted in shock, but he quickly recovered. “Aviva, I’ve never lied to you, and I don’t plan to—ever.”

I scoffed. “Yeah right,Byn. You could’ve told me who you really were back in the carriage, but you didn’t. What do you call that?”

Robyn leaned against the door behind him, suddenly looking much more tired than before as he said, “Robyn or Byn, either way I didn’t lie. I told you I’d be a powerful ally, didn’t I? Just because I didn’t tell you why or how that was true doesn’t mean I lied.”

“Right, you just tell selective truths. Because that’ssomuch better than lying,” I retorted.

Robyn sighed and responded, “Listen, I understand you don’t trust me. I wouldn’t either if I were in your shoes. But youdon’tknow the whole story—or at least not my people’s version of it. Please, just let me prove myself and my people to you. You’re on the wrong side of this war, Aviva.”

Before I could respond with another sarcastic response, there was a knock on the door Robyn was leaning against.

Robyn, seeming to understand the knock to be a sort of signal, straightened up and narrowed his gaze at me.

“I understand we don’t trust each other. You have no reason to work with me. But just…try. Please,” he said. The emotion in his voice sounded genuine. Raw.

He was right—I didn’t trust him, or anybody else here in the South. I’d grown up hearing how they were cold blooded murderers on the battlefield, that their war crimes are too horrible to be spoken aloud. I should have been scared for my life. But… the King of the South just saidpleaseto me, in an attempt to try to get me to work with him.

I looked down at the tattoo now adorning my left arm. If I was truly stuck with him for the rest of my too-short, mortal life, I guess it couldn’t hurt to try. Even if I did manage to escape someday, I’d never truly be free. It had been a fool’s hope to begin with.

My resolve solidifying, I met his gaze again and nodded once.

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