“My markings?” Ishaan rolled his sleeves back and looked at his wrists. There were looping dark blue markings circling his wrists. “Where did these come from?”

“You called her mate,” the Mother said, almost smiling. “She found joy in you naming her as such and accepted the title. Those are your mate markings, your bracelets and your collar. Do you find joy in them?”

He rubbed at the markings gently, but they didn’t smear and they didn’t fade. ...