“How the fuck did you see Kamil’s tattoo?” Marek demands, because he knows exactly where that tattoo is on Kamil’s body.
Sei shifts in the saddle. “I didn’t see it. Delline told me about it.”
“Good.” Marek tightens his grip on Sei’s waist—he can’t handle much more squirming. Or much more talk about Kamil, who is never permitted guard duty of Marek’s claim again.
“So, can I get a tattoo?”
“Sure. You don’t have to ask me to dye your hair or get a tattoo.” Marek’s stomach twists, remembering Sei’s explanation of the Porcelain Guild. A perfectly crafted teacup. Is that why Sei keeps asking permission for things he shouldn’t need permission for? That being said… “But we should talk about it again when you’re sober.”
Sei turns his head against Marek’s chest. “No. I think too much when I’m sober.”
“What do you think about?”
“How much you hate me,” Sei answers, matter of fact.
Marek doesn’t flinch in the saddle, only due to long years of combat training. “I don’t hate you.”
“You don’t like me either. You want to get rid of me.”
The worst part is that Sei doesn’t even sound sad or hurt. Just certain. Resigned.
Guilt and frustration war through Marek’s heart. He might not hate Sei, but Marek has made no secret that he hates this betrothal. He hates the parameters of the relationship they’ve both been forced into. The expectation that he’ll use Sei’s magic without any regard for the risk to Sei himself. The way Sei seems determined to fulfill that expectation.
Far more selfishly: Marek doesn’t need another man’s power. He has his own magic, and he has his dragon. He doesn’t need to lean on anyone else. Fuck, he’s the only rider in the corps without an adjutant.
But Marek should still do better by Sei while they’re stuck together.
“I’m not going to abandon you,” Marek says. “You know that, right? I’ll take care of you and make sure you’re safe, even after I break the betrothal.”
Sei’s sigh is a storm wind through Marek’s soul. “Promise?”
“Promise,” Marek says. “Now, you’re not getting a tattoo today. But if you did, what would you want?”
?
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Sei
Sei is beginning to figure out the unspoken boundaries of their arrangement. Marek is stern, intimidating, and expects obedience—but only regarding Sei wandering off alone. And Sei’s grail magic. Other than that?
Opening windows. Dyeing his hair. Taking shots with Kamil and Delline. All of those are fine. Sei doesn’t need permission to simply exist and act in the world. Marek hasn’t given Sei any new rules to cover the situations the Porcelain Guild never envisioned for Sei.
Marek still intends to break the betrothal, and Sei is no closer to winning him over. But after their day at the Tipsy Tree, Sei resolves to relish this freedom as much as he can.
He even put sugar in his tea this morning. Two entire spoonfuls.
As they walk through the palace, Marek speaks quietly with an aide. He doesn’t have an adjutant like the rest of the dragonriders. Sei isn’t sure why. Maybe assisting the prince is too complicated for any one person to handle. Or maybe Marek just prefers not relying on anyone else.
Meanwhile Sei trails behind, listening to the silent lecture of the fellcat at his heels. Not everyone in Sei’s life is so permissive.
You are far too cheerful today,Osric accuses.
Sei tries not to grin.
You should have a terrible hangover,Osric continues.That would teach you something! Now you won’t learn anything.
After yesterday’s adventure, Sei avoided the headache Osric thinks he deserves. He just feels tired and embarrassed. Maybe he should have taken a few more shots, so his suffering could blot out the memory of how terribly honest he was with Marek. Even if Marek was only kind about it.
