Page 254 of The Ashes and the Star-Cursed King

And the Heir Mark that now covered it.

“Ix’s tits,” I whispered.

He frowned, looking down at himself, but I dragged him to the mirror instead.

When he saw himself, his eyes bulged.

“Ix’s tits,” he agreed.

The Mark was nearly identical to mine, albeit slightly modified to match the shape of his body. I was wearing a loose camisole that exposed my neck and shoulders, leaving our two Marks visible side-by-side. The resemblance was uncanny. He had the same layered phases of the moon over his throat, and the smoky rendering of wings over his clavicle and shoulders—except his were the feathered wings of the Rishan.

We stared at each other in the mirror, and then had the same idea at the same time. Raihn turned me around, sliding the straps of my camisole off my shoulders, letting the garment pool around my waist and leaving my torso exposed.

He positioned me, my back was to the mirror, and I peered over my shoulder into it.

Sun fucking take me.

Beside me, Raihn turned around and matched my pose.

The Heir Mark on his back was nearly identical to the one I now bore on mine. The phases of the moon spread across the top of my back, spears of smoke running down my spine.

We looked at each other. The reality of what we’d done—of what had changed—settled over us both.

Nyaxia and Acaeja had both warned us that a Coriatis bond would mean the end of the Rishan and Hiaj Heir lines, combining them into one.

We’d altered the course of the House of Night forever.

I felt a little dizzy, and not from my injuries.

A wrinkle formed between Raihn’s brows. The corner of his mouth twitched in an uncertain almost-smirk. “Regrets, princess?”

Regrets?

The answer was easy and immediate. “Fuck, no.”

The smirk became a full-on smile, and if I’d had any regrets, that smile would have erased them, anyway.

“Good,” he said. “It looks better on you than it does on me, anyway.”

I glanced at Raihn’s muscled back and wasn’t sure that I agreed.

I jumped a little as the door burst open.

“Gods!”

I looked up to see Mische whirling around, nearly dropping the tray in her hands in her hasty effort to cover her eyes.

“I leave you two alone,unconscious, forfive minutesand you’re already in here tearing each other’s clothes off? At least lock the damned door!”

77

RAIHN

Ithought it would be more of an adjustment than it was. The Coriatis bond, it turned out, was the easy part. Yes, it was a little odd to get used to. It wasn’t as if I could read Oraya’s mind, or communicate without speaking, or feel everything she felt—and hell, what fun would that be, anyway, to take all the mystery out of things? It was more that I was now constantly, innatelyawareof her. A biological attunement to her presence, her state, her emotions.

Right now, though, I didn’t need any kind of magical goddess-gifted heart bond to know that Oraya was pissed.

She was wearing thata-cat-is-pissing-on-my-leg-and-you’re-the-catface. My favorite of the diverse library of Oraya faces. Her arms were crossed over her chest, her foot tapping impatiently. We were in the meeting room, me leaning back in my chair, Oraya bolt upright in hers. Ketura, Vale, Lilith, Jesmine, and Mische sat scattered around the table. Mische was half-slumped across the desk, Lilith was eternally thoughtful, Ketura and Vale were both visibly annoyed, and Jesmine was, of course, ever the ice queen.

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