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under the dark cotton t-shirt he wore.
    “This is very deep. I don’t think I have even seen one this deep before,” Sain whispered, his fingers prodding the sore skin, which caused Ilyan to jerk in pain. I jumped as Ilyan did, my fist reaching up to wind its way around the fabric of his shirt.
    “Are all your burns tied to Joclyn in some way?” Sain glanced at Ilyan, his bushy eyebrows disappearing into his unkempt hair.
    “Yes,” Ilyan replied through his teeth, his pain pulsing stronger the longer Sain touched the burns.
    I didn’t like the way his muscles twitched as he restrained his agony. When I stepped up to him, wrapping my arms around his chest, his muscles tensed under me, the shadow of his pain flowing through me from the Štít. I buried my face into Ilyan’s chest as my magic worked to calm him, the scent of his shirt full of his magic.
    “You are not privileged enough to touch the Black Water so frequently,” Sain said, his eyes not lifting from Ilyan’s hand.
    Even I didn’t miss the slight disgust in Sain’s voice over Ilyan’s supposed disgrace of what Sain viewed as holy. To me, Black Water was still just food.
    “I do not think this is a matter of privilege, Sain,” Ilyan said as he took his hand back from my father. “And not all hold your views of the Water. You would do well to remember that.”
    Ilyan’s fingers were tense and stiff before he placed the burned skin of his hand against my arm, his magic surging alongside mine at the contact. His body calmed as my touch took away the pain that had fired through his blood, my skin almost acting like Novocain to him.
    “You are not a Drak, Ilyan,” Sain countered, his voice full of scolding.
    Ilyan tensed against me at Sain’s foolish comment. Even Thom backed up, shaking his head at Sain’s pride.
    Ilyan was King, though I wasn’t sure if that title applied to my father. My father was one of the first of all magic. For all I knew, Ilyan should bow to him, but judging by the reactions of those around me, I guessed not.
    “The water reacts differently to you than it does to my kind,” Sain plowed on, oblivious to Ilyan’s wrath that was about to release. “The water is part of me, fused with me body and soul, as it is with Joclyn.”
    I stifled the gasp that tried to fight its way out of me; I had never thought of the Black Water being part of me that way. Although, in some ways, I had felt it; I had felt how my blood pulled at me, how it warmed after sights. The tone in Sain’s voice made it sound much more ominous, though, like it controlled me, instead of the other way around.
    “When one who is not a Drak touches the Black Water, it infects their soul, like a poison. That is what enables us to give you sight. To peek into your future or your past, but you purposefully burned yourself to save her, and the Water moved into your soul in an attempt to infect it, to give you sight. Your body cannot handle such a change, so instead, it clung to your soul as you poured the water into Joclyn. Then, in its attempt to recreate you, the water sought out the magic of a Drak and your souls were fused together. Permanently.”
    Permanently? I asked in silence, the word not frightening me as much as I knew it should.
    Ilyan looked away from my father at my question, his eyes catching mine as he unwound his arms from me. The flow of his magic spiked in a wave of warmth.
    “He means, my love, that this… this connection between us can never be undone.” Ilyan’s hand moved away from my shoulder as he spoke, his burned fingers soft against my skin as they ran over my neck toward my mark.
    I know what permanently means, Ilyan, I said into his mind. He smiled at my comment.
    My lip twitched, my own grin trying to sneak past my nerves.
    “Do you resent my choice?” Ilyan asked, his touch gentle as his hands moved down my arm to clasp my hand.
    “No, Ilyan, never,” I said, my words calm and controlled. Do you regret it?
    “For you, I