Corvus Nightshade's Arc

Chapter 9 of 11

The vow was set for dawn, but the shadow on Elara's arm was already thinning. Corvus felt it through the bond — a fray, then a slip. By first light the mark would burn through and any guard with eyes would see her dead. He needed a hidden spot inside the camp, and he needed it now. He walked the rows twice. Tents, fire pits, men playing dice. No corner held long enough for a rite. Then, behind the back wall of stores, he saw it — an old stone shrine half-buried in vines. A narrow door. An alcove no one had touched in years. He brought Elara through the vines. She didn't ask. She only pulled back her sleeve. "Do it," she said. "Before someone walks the line." Her voice was steady. Her hand was not. He drew the carved stone pendant from his coat and pressed it to her wrist. Forest ash darkened its grooves. He spoke the rite low. Shadow climbed from the stone and sank into her skin. Halfway through, footsteps crossed the gravel outside. Corvus held the line. Elara held her breath. The steps passed. When it was done, the mark was gone — not hidden, swallowed. Deep. Permanent until he broke it himself. She turned her wrist in the dim light. "Clean," she said. "That's the last time it shows before the gate." They stepped out as the sky went gray. Blackmere was waiting by the path, hands folded, eyes on her sleeve. He gave one short nod. "Good. The priest is ready." Corvus felt the bond hum even — the rite had held, but it had cost something he could not yet name. The wedding was an hour away. The gate, a day. He kept walking.