Lyra pov

Lyra turns around and runs her fingers over the shoulder blade, the movement making him shiver.

She stares at his tattoo as she traces the outline of his bone, squinting at the dark ink of the wings.

She feels a slight rise in skin patch, and her eyebrows shoot up.

"How did you cover it?" She questions dubiously, pulling her hand back almost immediately and turning back to her glass, filling up with water from her jug.

"I found a witch," he mutters.

"So did I, and she couldn't cover mine," she sharply responds, looking from the corner of her eyes.

"She used a special . I don't...