My head pounded, but this time it wasn’t the bass beat of dance club speakers thrumming through me. Worry had made my sleep restless, Liza’s firm stance and explanation competing with nightmares of rape and murder. Even knowing I was being paranoid, that my cousins were smart and last night was just a mix-up of panic and stupid, didn’t prevent horrifying dreams from slipping in.
I stumbled through brushing my teeth and showering, trying to remember that last night had been a happy night. I should be excited. I’d met my match. The water had washed away the sweat, and I examined my mark like it may have run off with the water as well.
Ridiculous. Soul sickness wasn’t a real thing. My mark was as black as ever, the words wrapping around my wrist like a bracelet, and someone had said them. Someone real.
Tyr Prince.
I leaned against the bathroom wall, sinking down to the floor and letting the water puddle around me. This should be a happy time, but it was a disaster. I’d been a complete idiot, running around like a chicken with his head cut off, and I hadn’t taken the time to explain or get my phone or -
My phone. And the duffel with the rented tux. They were both still in the locker room at the club, and I had to return the tux today. It was a stupid idea to even rent it; most of the people there had been dressed only semi-formally, not in full suits. I was just so stupid.
How did fate match me with a Prince?
He was handsome, of course. Exactly what I looked for in a man. Sharp, clean appearance without the rock-hard abs an bulging muscles of the alpha-jock types. Softer, but still in absolute control of himself and everything around him. Mr. Prince would never be on one of Victoria’s borderline porn calendars where men showed off everything but the goods, but he could definitely be on the cover of a business magazine or a top bachelor.
Compared to him, I didn’t even register with people. I was invisible. Silent. Only noticed when I did something wrong. Strong as an ox and quiet as a mouse.
I never expected my match to figure it out first. ASL is tricky with marks, sometimes only showing in patches because any written version is a translation and marks don’t do that. Russian shows in Russian script, Chinese in Chinese characters, and English in our own typical Roman letters. There is no written form of ASL, so I should have known first.
But he’d seen my wrist. The words I never bothered to cover up caught his eye even in the dark club and he’d known.
Uncle pounded on the door and I stood and got dressed. I couldn’t start covering the marks now because that would raise a lot of questions. But long sleeve shirts were still common with this weather, and I’d worn the donation band for Saint Serenity’s enough that it wouldn’t be odd. Neither really hid my words, but it would make them harder to read at a glance.
I slipped down into the kitchen, still halfway dripping, and got caught under uncle’s gaze.
There was absolutely no way I could let uncle know what happened. Uncle hated the idea of soulmates, but he might relent enough for Tyr Prince. He’d soften just enough to make me seem like a gold digger and get himself promoted, and then find acceptable pairings for the girls.
That was a mean thought. Uncle wasn’t that bad. He just cared more about his daughters than about me. Because they were actually family and I - wasn’t. I was just his sister’s son.
I turned away from Uncle’s accusing glare and went to the kitchen to make pancakes. It was one of the weekend treats I usually fixed almost blindly: Saturday was pancakes, Sunday was turnovers. Made from scratch, just like Mr. Redbird had shown me. The girls always loved it, and it didn’t cost much.
“You had to be somewhere last night,” Uncle scowled. He’d followed me, a phone clutched in his hand. “I told you to go back to the club. They were counting on you.”
I dog in the drawers until I found a pen to go with the pad of paper the girls always left out. “I told them I had to find Liza. She disappeared.”
“You should have gone back.”
It was hard to argue with paper. Uncle had a habit of ignoring it. “It was a matching ball. It wasn’t like the bar was going to be overwhelmed. They wanted to find their soulmates, not get drunk.” It was technically a mock-ball, but I’d been there. Marks were still the main concern.
“Last night had nothing to do with those stupid marks and everything to do with you keeping a job!” Uncle had gotten close, and ripped the pad of paper away to shove it in my face. “Stupid ideas like this are why you never speak to anyone, right? So maybe I should take you downtown right now and have them burn off your mark.”
Burn it? Absolutely not! Nothing hid a mark, but black rumors as false as soul sickness said burning the skin was as bad as a rejection, and would make it fade. I shook my head frantically, signing: “You can’t! I met my mark. Please, I met my match.”
Victoria squealed, and I winced. Uncle couldn’t read ASL, but ‘toria could. “You met your match?” she shouted, rushing to hug me. “When? Can I meet her? Is she pretty?”
“There’s my girls!” Uncle smiled at her enthusiasm. “How are you this morning? Feeling better, I hope?”
“Papa!” Victoria scolded. “Ash said he met his match!”
“In bar tending, sweetie,” Uncle countered. “We were talking about his new job, not soulmates. He was telling me about his partner at the club, and that he’d finally met his match for serving drinks.”
Victoria gave him a disbelieving look, but Uncle had already turned his attention to Liza. “Now - how are you feeling this morning? Better?”
She smiled at him, her cheeks still a bit rosy. “I’m okay,” she said softly. “Just don’t feel like going out. I’ve got a paper to finish anyways. Maybe we can snuggle up to a movie later?”
Uncle nodded at her, and some of my concern ebbed. Movies later meant she was okay, even if she wasn’t 100%.
“No one caught your eye either, Liza?” Uncle asked. “Victoria seems so excited about matches I almost think she’s hiding a boyfriend.”
I moved away to check that the pancakes hadn’t burnt. I flipped the two on the stove and got a plate from the cabinet while the family talked.
“It was too loud,” Liza said with a frown apparent in her tone. “More ‘toria’s crowd than mine. I mean, it was fun for a while, but I was done after the first hour. I didn’t see Vicky interested in anyone, and if she had a boyfriend I’d know.” Oh, and I was sure Victoria was muttering bad thoughts about that comment.
“Maybe you should stop by the office sometime, see some of the work environment,” Uncle offered.
“Ugh, stuffy office cubicle farm?” Victoria asked. “No way!”
“Come on! I’m sure some of the business men look handsome in their fancy suits,” Uncle urged.
The girls made faces as I slid the first pancakes over. For once I found himself agreeing with uncle: the businessmen at the office certainly were handsome. I’d thought it was just the Ball that had drawn me to Prince Enterprises. Had I been attracted to my soulmate the whole time?
No, that was just a silly rumor. Things like that didn’t actually happen.
“Everyone at your office is so old,” Victoria grumbled.
“We can find perfectly handsome boys on our own,” Liza agreed. “We’ll be looking for jobs soon anyways - who’s to say we won’t find Mister Right at some other company?”
Uncle frowned, but didn’t push any further. I served him last, avoiding his gaze, but I could feel trouble stirring. I really needed to avoid him if I could for the next few days. Maybe my spot was still open at Redbird’s and I could pass things off as a misunderstanding.
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