Of course Dark's parents wanted to thank Wilford themselves for saving their son. Of course. Things couldn't get any worse. How was Dark supposed to conduct himself after such shocking news? He had a SoulMark with a man who could very well be his downfall.

Furthermore, did Wilford know?

SoulMarks generally showed up where ever those involved first touched, clothes be damned. And you'd think that your palm would be something you'd see regularly. It'd been days, he doubted Wilford wasn't aware.

He sat silent in the study, knowing fully well that there was an elaborate banquet downstairs that was just now wrapping up. Dark might not have cared much for such display, but his parents could have at least asked him if he wanted to join them.

They were celebrating his savior, after all. He almost felt jealous.

Nevermind that, he'd find his own way to thank him.

He eyes flit across the page, growing a little heated with the words. Perhaps he shouldn't be reading these types of books when his mind and thoughts were so jumbled.

He heard the door open, paying it no mind. It was likely a maid. Dark was so engrossed in the book that the only warning he got that someone was behind him was the odd warmth he felt spreading through him.

"'-and he took him there, atop the desk. Paperwork long forgotten in their passion-'"

Dark slammed the book shut, a familiar deep laughter filling his ears. Filling him with a comfortable warmth. "Wilford." He didn't need to look to know it was him. He's read about this. How two SoulMarks could sense whenever the other was around.

"Good afternoon, Prince Dark." The man chuckled, "Interesting book you got there. Is this what you study in your free time?" This time Dark did look, eyes immediately checking for his hands. Just to find that he was sporting a pair of gloves. Along with a smirk, but that was well beside the point.

"Did you need something?" He had to remember that Wilford was still a suspect. He couldn't let his guard down for even a second.

"I wanted to see how you were doing, of course! I thought you were a goner for sure, you looked terrible... and then Anti!" Wilford leaned away, waltzing over to one of the large windows to peer out of it. "I've heard of that horrid little green man, never thought I'd ever see him myself. Gave me a fright."

Dark hummed, looking back to the study door. It was closed. They were alone in the room, just the two of them. Dark didn't fancy feeling cornered like this. It all felt too tense.

But, if Wilford was his SoulMark he needed to know. To go on much longer and not knowing something so vitak-he wouldn't stand for it. Whether Wilford had poisoned him or not. And being alone as they were provided the perfect opportunity to investigate.

There was, of course, a chance that he hadn't been poisoned at all. But knowing his luck that wasn't likely. And Wilford had the opportunity as well. At the ball. When he offered him a glass of that wine. Dark might not have smelled anything off, but what would he know? He was no expert on poisons.

"... Is something troubling you?" Wilford actually sounded concerned. It made him feel awful for suspecting him.

The prince stood up, "Take off your gloves." He had to know. No beating around the bush.

"Whatever for?" Wilford balked, hand to his chest. "That's an odd request, even for me!"

"Remove them." He repeated, taking that step forward that brought them face to face. Chest to chest. Too close. Far too close. But Dark wasn't backing down.

Wilford glanced to his gloves, "... Only if you say 'please'." He pursed his lips, wiggling his gloved fingers in his face.

The prince glared at him, "Please." He said through clenched teeth.

Wilford, satisfied, slipped his gloves off.

But they were naked. No mark on either palm. Not a trace. Dark's heart fell. He had been so sure-and he was wrong? "No-it can't be." He voiced, grabbing Wilford's wrist, scrubbing his fingers against his palm. Powder! He had to be concealing it!

"What are you doing?"

Dark couldn't believe how desperate he had grown. He hadn't even known the man for a week. And yet he was so ready to... to what? Fall in love? Be wed? Was he that desperate for someone to love?

"Dark... are you crying?" Wilford's voice spoke softly. He hadn't even realized. Dark had been so sure that Wilford was the one. He's all he never knew he wanted, wrapped up in a ridiculous pink bow. He felt this connection between them. Or at least, he thought he did. Now he wasn't so sure.

If this man wasn't his SoulMark then who could it possibly be? Or... and he dreaded the mere thought. It was a rare circumstance, but he wouldn't doubt that it would happen to him. His soulbond could be entirely one-sided. Which meant he was, well, screwed.

Dark dropped his hand, looking down and away. "Don't be ridiculous." He said stiffly, forcing the tears down. Bottle them up. Dark had always been good at that. "It's only the dust." He turned away from him, collecting his things. "I just remembered. I have some things to tend to. I can't push it back any longer." His satchel felt like lead. "How long do you intend to stay with us?"

Wilford blinked, completely cowed by the sudden change in the prince's behavior, "Your... their majesties wish to arrange a festival. They're quite adamant about me staying till then."

"The Flower Festival." Dark nodded, "Then I bid you goodnight." Then he was gone. Crumbled walls towering high once more. And he wasn't going to let them be broken down another time. His heart was stuck in his throat, he felt as though he could vomit.

Things just couldn't go his way for once, could they?