Kaia stood in front of a decorative shield in the hallway, using the polished steel as a mirror.
The damage was catastrophic.
Aeron hadn't just touched her; he had branded her. A smear of black ink stained her lower lip and jawline, looking suspiciously like she had been kissing a squid. It was dark, stark, and utterly impossible to explain away as "clumsiness."
"Ink," she whispered to her reflection. "How do I explain ink on my mouth? 'Oh, pardon me, I tripped and fell face-first onto a treaty'?"
Footsteps clicked against the marble. Fast, efficient, terrifying footsteps.
Victoria.
Kaia panicked. She looked left. She looked right. She spat on her handkerchief and scrubbed at her face, but the ink just smeared, turning from a distinct thumbprint into a greyish bruise.
