The Underworld Trials of Luna
“Whoa,” Laila says, grinning widely at me and squeezing my hands as I sit back on my rump. “This is crazy.”
“Can you feel it?” I ask, laughing a little as Laila – a bit absurdly – looks up, sensing something different on her forehead and trying to see it. I conjure her up a hand mirror and hand it over so she can inspect my work.
“Oh cool,” Laila whispers, her dark eyes going wide at the sight of what looks like a very delicate, elegant new tattoo, even though it shines just a bit in a way that ink cannot. “I love it.”