Page 80 of I Dream of Dragons

“Then you will control him on your own. You can…” My thoughts waver as darker lines on his chest and abdomen come into focus.

By Amphitrite, the sea queen… It’s a shape. A symbol.

“What is this?” I demand. “This shape?”

“What shape?” He grits out. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t you ever look at yourself in the mirror?”

“I try not to. Who would want to see this mess?”

This unexpected show of vulnerability hits me hard. I’ve seen him cocky and arrogant. Then again, I’ve mostly seen him with shirts and tunics buttoned up to his neck.

“You must know the effect you have on girls,” I whisper, sidelined.

“I don’t care about other girls,” he says quietly.

I ignore the heat rushing into me at his statement, at the implications. “You have lines on your stomach… and they form the symbol of the Eosphors. The all-seeing eye.”

He glances down, dark brows knitting. “They do? This mark has been there ever since I remember but it looked… different.” He swallows hard. “As for the rest, I have scars all over my body. Scars, marks, and darkness seeping into my skin. I look a real fucking treat. A mirror of my fucked-up mind.”

He’s gorgeous. Is he joking? But he seems so serious, and something about the way he talks about himself tugs on my heartstrings. This whole mess has that particular organ in a vise. He has never looked unsure and confused before, not like this.He has taken off his mask, baring his soul. It’s so damn beautiful and he doesn’t even know it.

I don’t know what possesses me, but I grab his hand and tug—and try hard not to stare at the web of scars on the inside of his arms, scars he probably put there himself while trying to control Phaethon.

“Let me show you something,” I say, and he follows me without a comment as I drag him back to the balustrade. “Here is a good spot.”

He squints. “What am I looking at?”

“Wait for it.” I check the Eosphors constellations, the distance from the land. It’s about right. If I’m wrong…

“Rae—”

“Wait. Trust me.”

“Always,” he whispers.

We both gaze out at the dark sea, the faint starlight catching on white foam off the rolling waves. Even the mermaids have fallen silent, leaving only the crash of the sea against the foundations of the palace.

It’s peaceful. Nothing is moving.

Then a flash catches my eye. “There!” I point. “Are you seeing that? That bright line on the water?”

“What is that?” He looks blank. “It’s… glowing.”

“Yes.” More glowing lines appear on the sea. More and more, until suddenly the light is everywhere. “It’s the time of the month, the time of the year, the time of the evening when the golden eels swim to the surface of the sea to lay their eggs.”

“And those… those lines are…”

“The egg strings.”

It’s funny to see him go speechless.

Almostfunny, because I’m still hurting from seeing him cut himself, seeing the symbol on his torso, seeing him struggle.

The dark surface of the sea, the heaving waves, turn into a bright white lace that shifts and shimmers.

“Holy fuck, that’s beautiful,” he breathes and the lights of the sea are reflected in the dark mirrors of his eyes. “I never thought… I’ve never seen anything like it in my life.”