The Prince's Mark

Chapter Eight

Like always, Tracou awoke with the sun. He moved to get up from his side, but he found something lying across his shoulder.

In his sleep, Mirthal had moved one arm so it was resting on Tracou. It couldn't have been comfortable, considering their positions. Mirthal was on his back while Tracou was on his side, meaning that Mirthal's hand was higher than his own shoulder. It was likely close to falling asleep.

Grumbling, Tracou tossed Mirthal's arm off of him. Which, of course, had no effect on the elf.

Waking Mirthal was, again, a struggle. He must never get up before lunchtime, at home.

This time, Mirthal was convinced to wake up by Tracou telling him that his retainer would never expect him to leave so early in the day.

Mirthal changed into the drab clothes they had bought him. Once again, Tracou tried to tell him to cut his hair, but Mirthal staunchly refused. What good was being respectful when he was trying not to get caught? If Mirthal was sent back home it wouldn't be Tracou's fault, that was for sure.

When Mirthal was mostly ready, he dug some coins out of his bag and dropped them on Tracou's lap. That was annoying in of itself, since the coins went every which way, rolling down his thighs and generally being a nuisance. But when Tracou had gathered them all, he found that Mirthal had given him five entire coins. He handed three coins back to Mirthal.

"I don't need five of these, Mirthal. You should save them."

Mirthal pouted. "No, take them. I want to give them to you."

"I'll take two, not five. You need them if you're going to be traveling. If you run out of money, you'll be sorry."

"But, Tracou, I never bought you anything to thank you."

"I told you! I don't need anything." Tracou held up two of the coins. "Look, one of these will go to paying me back and the other will go to getting me a present. Okay?"

Deflated, Mirthal nodded.

"Are you ready?" Tracou asked, putting the gold coins into his own bag of money.

"Yeah."

Getting the wagon ready was more of a hassle than it needed to be. Tracou had to show Mirthal how to hitch the horses to the wagon four times before he got it.

"Are you really going to be okay?" Tracou asked.

"Yep. Thanks to you."

Hearing that made Tracou feel pretty good. A small smile appeared on his face. It soon plummeted off of his face when he remembered how ill-prepared Mirthal really was.

"Tracou, before I go... give me your hand."

Again Mirthal wanted to hold his hand. The amount of touching Mirthal initiated was far too high (not that Tracou was keeping count, of course—that would be absurd.) Regardless, Tracou placed his gloved hand on Mirthal's open one. With his other hand, Mirthal took Tracou's glove off.

"What are you doing?"

"Just wait."

Frowning, Tracou stared at their hands. His skin was fair, so he had taken to wearing gloves whenever he went outside. It was easiest to ensure that he didn't lose his gloves if he wore them constantly, so he had steadily started to wear them whenever food or water wasn't involved. But now Mirthal was touching his bare hand.

Like Tracou's, Mirthal's hand was mostly soft. There were a few calluses, probably from archery, but nothing like a farmer's hands. It was larger than Tracou's and somehow warmer, despite him not wearing gloves. When Mirthal sandwiched Tracou's hand between both of his, Tracou grimaced. His palm was getting sweaty and Mirthal was going to notice.