Page 42 of Tashama
Carissian reached down and examined Tashama’s hands. He shook his head. “I don’t know.”
The prince drank from his goblet, then motioned for the servant to offer more wine to Tashama. She shook her head. “I’ve already had too much.”
The prince reached for a slice of apple. “Whatever you were trying to do, it didn’t work.”
“If you say so.”
Carissian nodded. “You’re right, my prince. The lady couldn’t read you like she wished to.”
“Good. At least someone cannot do so.”
Carissian touched Tashama’s cheek. “She cannot do so because her feelings for you are getting in the way.”
Tashama’s cheeks reddened as she brushed the sorcerer’s hand away. “What a ludicrous thing to say.”
Carissian laughed as the prince studied her reaction. “Her cheeks are blossoming like the white neleron when it blushespink in the springtime. She needn’t say a word—her skin tattles on her just the same.”
The prince smiled. “What feelings does she have for me?”
“I’ve told you before, she wants you to kiss her.”
“I do not, sorcerer.” She sat up and scooted away from the prince.
“She doesn’t speak the truth,” the sorcerer said. “She’s intrigued by your looks. Your smooth chest tantalized her as you left your bath. She barely took a breath as she studied the towel wrapped around your waist. Her…”
She hurtled a pillow at the sorcerer, and the prince and he stared at her for a moment, then both burst out laughing. The prince held his chest for a moment as he caught his breath. “Do tell, what else interests her about me?”
Carissian shook his head. “Now she’s so flustered, I cannot say.”
The prince stared at her, then smiled. “Tell her I desire to kiss her, too.”
Carissian took a deep breath. “Should I leave the room, Your Highness?”
“No!” Tashama shouted. “You’ve read my thoughts wrong! Your prince needs to replace you, sorcerer, as your mind grows feeble.”
The prince’s eyes sparkled with mischief, and then he motioned for his staff to leave the room. The servants hurried to remove the platters of food, and Tashama folded her arms. “I cannot walk.”
“Our prince doesn’t wantyouto leave, just the rest of us.” Carissian vanished.
The prince finished his goblet of wine, then set the empty cup on the floor. He stretched out on the pillows as he leaned on his elbow to observe her.
“You’ve hardly eaten anything,” she said.
“Are you afraid of me?”
“Of course not.”
“Even without Carissian’s saying so, I can see you are. I won’t harm you.” He rolled onto his back, then studied the mural of the ocean painted across the twenty-foot-high ceilings of his chambers.
She lay down to consider the swirling aqua waters with sugary spray spilling from white caps as mermen intertwined their emerald-scaled tails with mermaids in the milky foam. She turned her head to see what part of the painting the prince was looking at, but he studied her bodice instead. She pulled a pillow over her chest and turned back to consider the mer-creatures further.
“It’s the mating ritual.” The prince touched her hand.
“How would you know?”
“Sailors have captured such visions for our artists to paint for centuries.”
“Why can't we be at peace?” She looked over at him.
