the needle, jabbed again, re-dipped, jabbed, re-dipped, jabbed. Over and over again until she had an outline of a wide band spanning the space above his cuff.
Though she was incredibly quick and talented with her needle, the process was slow, quiet, and tedious. But there was a mesmerizing beauty about it, a subtle art. It was apparent that Hukan had done this many times before.
Soon, one wrist was done. The tattoo was almost as wide and thick as his cuffs, one solid band of gleaming gold. It was beautiful and it made his skin shimmer in the light.
Arokan’s other wrist was done in the same slow, intricate process until the two tattoos were virtually identical.
His eyes met mine and he said, “Now you, kassikari.”
I didn’t show my hesitation when I reached my wrist across the table. I didn’t need to give Hukan any more reason to dislike me. With an almost clinical touch, she repeated the cleaning process, spreading the salve over my wrist.
She dipped the clean needle in the pot, but paused, looking up at Arokan before asking something in Dakkari.
“Rath Kitala,” he replied.
“Rath Kitala?” Hukan repeated slowly, her eyes narrowing.
“Lysi,” he replied, his brow quirking, as if challenging her, as if daring her to question him.
My own brow furrowed, watching the exchange, confused by it. Hukan’s lips pressed together again and then she made the first jab into my wrist, though it was aggressive.
Eyes widening at the sharp pain, I shot a look at Arokan, almost in betrayal. He hadn’t even flinched, hadn’t moved, during the whole process of his markings. I’d decided that it couldn’t hurt that badly.
It hurt like a bitch. Though, I suspected, after Hukan’s second, third, fourth jab, that she was a little rougher with me than she’d been with Arokan. She certainly seemed to put more muscle into it.
Arokan’s lips quirked at my outraged expression, but he remained quiet, simply watching me.
Soon, a slim band began to take shape across my wrist. It wasn’t solid, like Arokan’s, nor was it nearly as wide, but it was in the same swirling design as the markings across his biceps, across his chest, across his shoulders.
Soon, she started work on a second band, about half an inch higher from the first, in the same design, though the pattern looked slightly different.
Though tears welled in my eyes at the shooting pain, I blinked them away, not wanting Hukan to see. It felt like I had something to prove to her, so I took pride in the fact that whenever she looked up at me with a searching gaze, my features were expressionless, my eyes dry.
Relief went through me when she released my wrist, wiping away some of the blood that welled and coating the gold in the clear salve.
It was only a momentary reprieve, however, because she gestured impatiently for my other wrist.
So, I gritted my teeth, sent a withering glare over to Arokan, and she began work on the next set of markings.
It seemed like hours later when it was done.
Once she released me, I felt shivery from the pain and my face was probably pale, but I looked down at my wrists, turning them to see every inch.
“They’re beautiful,” I said softly, looking up at Hukan.
She ignored me, simply cleaned and packed up her materials before redepositing them in her drawers.
Arokan stood and helped me up, placing his hand on the small of my lower back. His heat felt nice.
“Kivale,” he murmured, inclining his head. “Kakkira vor. Thank you for your time.”
Then he urged me to the entrance of the tent.
“Let me speak with your Morakkari a moment,” Hukan said before I stepped outside.
Arokan hesitated, watching her with narrowed, suspicious eyes. He looked at me, then jerked his head and ducked outside, leaving me alone with the older female. I would rather be alone with a hundred pyroki, I thought.
“You are not good enough for him,” Hukan said, simply, her voice quiet and hushed. “He made a mistake in choosing you.”
I froze, my back straightening, her words stunningly…hurtful.
“Do you dislike me because I’m not Dakkari?” I asked, keeping my voice level and even. “Because I’m human?”
“Nik,” she said. “I dislike you because I think you are weak. I think you do not have the spine or the stomach to be a Morakkari. Not like his mother.”
His mother?
My brow furrowed and I lowered my voice so Arokan would not hear. “You know nothing about me.”
I sucked in a breath when Hukan reached out to grip my