The tattooer was… Massive. Actually massive. I had never seen any woman this large.

She was carefully preparing the tools for the tattoos, cleaning them in the traditional way. Cleansing them for the gods and all that. I wasn’t very religious, but this had to be done right. It all had to be done right.

She was a little odd looking though. Obviously, from the mountain tribes with her red-tinted skin and dark eyes. My mother had been from a tribe like that, so I bore the resemblance of those features. But I still fit in with the rest of the natives here too.

But this girl was at least 185 cm tall and her hair was stuck on top of her head in a messy bun. Her sleeves were rolled up, exposing tattoos snaking their way up her arms.

I moved my arm over to hers, just to compare how much darker her skin was. It was considerably darker. She had to be from the mountain tribes.

She burned the needles, cleansing them for both dirt but also mean spirits. Her gaze lifted, meeting mine for a second before she looked down again.

“Can… Can we turn on the radio?” I asked with a voice barely louder than a whisper.

She looked up again, narrowing her eyes at me. Then she rose to her feet and turned the knob on the radio. It lit up behind the mesh, strategically placed in three sections, the one in the middle the biggest.

Soft tunes started flowing out of the little radio. I loved this singer. She had the softest voice and always sang of all the troubles in her life. But not in a way that made me pity her. It made me feel empowered to listen to her. Like she just bared her soul and didn’t care about the consequences.

“I like this artist,” the girl murmured.

“Me too. She’s amazing.”

“I saw her perform two weeks ago in this club in the city. She was spellbinding.” She smiled. She got two very deep dimples when she smiled. It looked adorable.

“I wish I could go.”

She frowned a little. “Why can’t you? You’re to be the queen. I thought you could do whatever you wanted.”

I laughed and shook my head. “Gods no. Security risks. I can’t just leave because of security risks.”

“Couldn’t you just bring a guard?”

I shook my head again. “It’s not that simple.”

“Seems pretty simple to me.”

“I can’t just go out amongst the commoners. I… I’m the future queen. My place is here in the stronghold. Not out there.”

“Whatever you say.”

She didn’t seem to be someone who often found themselves in the company of royals. She didn’t even address me correctly and… I kind of liked it. As cliché as it was, I liked how she didn’t just say what she thought I wanted to hear. She wasn’t just sitting here and agreeing with me. And she didn’t talk in that dry official way I was expected to talk in. The way the councillors all talked in. She sounded like an actual person.

“What do you do around here?”

“I tattoo.”

“Besides that?”

She finished up her tools and started building a little machine. That certainly wasn’t customary. Usually, it was all hand poked. Would I be the first queen to be tattooed with a machine? It was safer and cleaner. That’s what my servant had told me anyway. But it wasn’t customary.

“I work odd jobs around the city.”

“And you’re a spiritual tattooer?” I arched a brow at her.

She snorted. “Yeah. I was taught back in my tribe.”

“Which tribe are you from?”

“I’m Aatskina.”

I nodded and smiled a little. “You’re the ones with the tattooed arms.”

The girl smiled too, rolled up her sleeves even more and leaned forward, showing off the designs in her brown skin. They were absolutely beautiful. They were very all geometric. Some of the diamond shaped tattoos were filled with black on one side, leaving the other with just an outline.

“What do they symbolise?” I asked with a low voice, gently running my fingers over the tattoos.

“That I’m touched by the spirits, have been taught the sacred ways of both the Gods and the holy spirits. That I’m allowed to carry on these traditions and pass them on to who ever is deserving.”

“Am I? Deserving?”

“You carry the holy blood, don’t you?”

The royal family had once been holy spirits. My ancestors had passed down the holy blood to me and my family, and I’d carry it on with my future children. It coloured our blood blue.

“Is it bad to confess I’m not sure I believe in it?”

“I guess not. It must be overwhelming to think about.”

I nodded. She gently grabbed my wrists and turned the inside of my arms up. Dark veins sprawled from my wrist and up to my elbow.

“The dark blue blood is that of the spirits. What colour is yours?”

“Dark blue,” I murmured. “You’ll see in a moment.”

“That I will.”

We sat in silence as she cleaned my arms with rose water mixed with rum. She was very gentle with the silk cloth, running it over my skin. The more she did it, the hotter my cheeks turned.

“What’s your name?” My voice was breathy.

“Dy.”

“That’s pretty. I’m Alvina.”

She snorted. “I know.”

“It’d be rude to just assume you knew it,” I muttered.

She laughed and nodded. “Alright. Let’s get cracking.” She lifted the machine and pushed a button a couple of times, watching the needle vibrate. It made a buzzing sound too.

She looked up, silently asking if I was ready. I nodded, and she put the needle down on my skin.