Mala held out her hand again, and an image formed within it. Of the tattoo across Aelin’s back. The new tattoo, of spread wings, the story of her and Rowan written in the Old Language amongst the feathers. A flick of Mala’s fingers and symbols rose from it. Hidden within the words, the feathers. Wyrdmarks. Rowan had hidden Wyrdmarks in her tattoo. Had inked Wyrdmarks all over it.
