Page 49 of Unveiled

Adrian pointed at Laird’s glittering, musical eyebrow. “Innovation is jingling.”

Laird sagged in relief, leaning heavily against Connor. “Thank you.” His eyebrow chimed politely.

Connor patted his back. “At least it’s festive.”

Laird groaned. “I am never living this down.”

Luciana perked up. “Well, if Version Two causes whistling again, we can—”

“No,” Laird and Adrian said together.

Connor grinned. “Aye, for today.”

Laird’s eyebrow glimmered happily.

“Your shoulders are up around your ears.”

***

Adrian

Connor and Adrian found Xiathen in the Athenaeum, his long robes trailing across the mosaic floor as he sorted through stacks of old parchment and brittle tomes.

“I’ve been expecting you,” Xiathen said before Adrian even spoke.

Adrian frowned. “How?”

“The air around you is trembling,” Xiathen replied. “Marks do that when they stir.”

Adrian’s heart mirrored a stutter. “So it’s normal?”

Xiathen looked up sharply. “No. Not normal.” His gaze drifted to Adrian’s collarbone. “May I?”

Adrian nodded reluctantly. Xiathen lifted trembling fingers—not touching, hovering—and drew in a sharp breath. “The mark is waking.”

Adrian’s stomach dropped. “Waking to what?”

Xiathen stepped back, troubled. “To the one who placed it.”

Connor’s growl echoed like distant thunder. “Who the fuck marked him, and what does he have to do with anything? He’s not part of your community, is he?” Connor demanded.

Xiathen hesitated. “We need to talk to Melanus. She and the others have been scrolling through the ancient texts to try to discover what Adrian’s part in this is and why he is marked.”

Adrian wrapped his arms around himself, suddenly cold. “Why now? Why would it activate only after the storm?”

Xiathen’s eyes dimmed. “Because the Veil has shifted. Because our village has crossed worlds. Because old magic senses opportunity.”

Connor stiffened behind him. “Opportunity for what?”

Xiathen swallowed. “I can’t say. I don’t understand it either.” He placed a soft hand on Adrian’s shoulder. “Leave it with me. I will ask Melanus to tell us about her findings.”

***

Adrian didn’t sleep that night. He lay on the bed in his chamber, staring at the ceiling, counting every flicker of heat beneath his skin. Each flare was stronger than the last. Each pulse sharper. Each one left him more breathless, more shaken, more aware of the invisible thread pulling at his chest. Pulling him toward something. Toward someone.

He pressed a hand to the mark, his jaw clenched. “Stop,” he said. “Please stop.”

The mark answered with a faint, cruel thrum. He squeezed his eyes shut. If this is growing, how much worse will it become?