The Prince's Mark

The Road to Dezmer - Seventeen

"Yes..."

"You should tell him you think he's handsome."

Tracou flushed. Honestly, he had done that already... under coercion, but the words had come out of his mouth. Telling a man that he thought he was handsome hadn't worked the first time he had tried it, either.

"I have."

"And what about him? Did he call you handsome?"

"No, he says I'm cute."

"That does suit you better," Serpouhi said with a grin.

"But he doesn't say it anymore. He hardly speaks to me and he hasn't looked at me in days."

Serpouhi hummed in thought, putting her shoe back on her foot.

"That's not good."

"I'm aware."

"Did you do something?"

"I don't know. Maybe... he realized my, um... feelings..." He cringed. "And now he's distancing himself from me because he thinks it's revolting."

"No."

"No?"

Serpouhi looked him in the eyes, her face the very picture of authority.

"Definitely not."

He almost believed her. Had he been younger, he would have. After all, Serpouhi had far more experience in this realm and likely knew more about this than he did. But Serpouhi was a woman and a woman marrying a man at that. She did not occupy the same world as he did—the rules to hers were clearly defined, or at least present, while Tracou had been floating in the ether for years. And, ultimately, the last time he had followed her romantic advice he had collapsed.

Still... he wanted her to be right.

"What makes you say that?"

"Have you noticed the way he looks at you?"

"Looked at me," he corrected, frowning deeply.

"Yes, yes, looked at you."

"I don't understand what you mean, so I guess not. Before, he was clingy. He used to like carrying me around, but he hates it now. He doesn't want anything to do with me."

"He liked carrying you? So he was kind of touchy? Handsy?"

"Um... you could say that. When we slept in the same bed, he would always have an arm or a leg over me by the morning. And he did like carrying me, but that was when I was hurt. He got annoying by the end, always hovering around like he thought I'd shatter if I sneezed. I can take care of myself; I'm not a child." He paused. "I'm not that helpless, am I?"

Serpouhi gave him another look.

"I am?"

"No, dummy. Where did you get the idea that he thinks you're a child?"

Again Skender's words echoed in his mind. Without their wands, dezmek were little better than children.

"He saw me without magic."

Serpouhi's face shifted to the one she had worn after the silent sickness had struck their household. To be reduced to only what a dezmek's body could do physically was unthinkable—in stories of dezmek heroes, losing one's wand equated to a human losing a limb, or worse.

"So he saw you without your wand."

Tracou flinched. No. Mirthal had never seen him without his wand. He still hadn't told her about Winlea, but he couldn't say anything right before her wedding, of all things.