Page 15 of Tristan
He does and considers me angrily. I’m in this now so I put on my brave face and solider on.
“Corrik, explain.”
“I should think it obvious.”
It is obvious. He carted me off to fuck me, fine, that’s what we’re supposed to do, but I thought there would be a little more romancing. “Is that how this happens in Elvish Tradition? Cart your husband off and have your way with him?”
“Yes,” he says. It’s clear he just wants to lick my skin again.
“Well, you’re in Markaytia now. We don’t do things like that.”
In truth, I don’t know what it is Markaytians are meant to do on their wedding nights. I mean, I know they, well, they make love, but I’m not familiar with the details. I’m making things up as I go along because I don’t want my first time to be with an angry Elf.
My words have an effect. He smirks. “And just how do we do thingsheremy little Markaytian?”
“With the truth. Something happened downstairs, Corrik. Evenyour parents noticed. It caused you to act like a barbarian. I want an explanation. I want to know who I’m letting have me.”
“I’m afraid I’ll have to disappoint you—you’re not getting an explanation and you will let me have you anyway,” he says certain of himself. He scoops me up, I kick wildly, but it does nothing to deter the Elf from his goal. He sets me down on the bed, hard, his angry eyes indomitable.
“Fine, take me if you must. But I do not consent to this.”
I’m lying on the bed now, staring up at his beautiful form and I dare to cross my arms.Will he still go through with this, even though I’ve said no?
“I shall never force you into sex with me, Tristan.”
So, I finally have one power.
“If you don’t answer my question, then I suppose we will both be unhappy men.”
“You don’t mean that,” he says. “You take your duty seriously and you know you must do this whether you want to or not.”
My one power begins to crumble at the edges, but I won’t give in yet.
“Well maybe you’re wrong. Maybe I think my kingdom has abandoned me in giving me over toyou,and I no longer feel I owe them anything.”
To that the prince does something I do not expect; he bursts with booming laughter. It’s beautiful despite its lack of mirth. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. You practically ooze patriotism. Markaytia could gut you and leave you for dead, yet you’d use your last bit of saliva to spit on anyone walking by who dared breathe a bad word against Markaytia.”
Damn him. How does he already know me so well?
It’s childish, one might call it brattish behavior, but I roll away from him as much as I can with the handcuffs keeping us together. I don’t want to look at him; I hate him and his mocking. Silence reigns for a time before a hand cards through my braids. It feels good and soothes me despite being attached to someone I loathe. I can’t believeI was beginning to think he would be an all-right companion, prickly as he is. We were having a spot of fun downstairs—I thought I couldlikehim.
“I can’t tell you,” he whispers, his voice soft now. “Can I promise to tell you some other time?”
What am I supposed to say? I turn back to face him and his expression twists with concern.
“Oh, Tahsen.” He uses his thumb to wipe away the stupid tears of frustration I’ve been ignoring.Why does he look to care anyway?“Maybe weshouldjust go to sleep,” he says. “It is not my wish to hurt you.”
That’s what gets him to forgo sex? Tears? No way. I’m not a child—it’s just been a long, trying day. I will lose my virginity tonight damn it. He’s right and I take my duty seriously—I will consummate this marriage for Markaytia. “Don’t be ridiculous, we will finish the requirements for the marriage,” I say in a business fashion and look him over keenly. “Whatever possessed you before, it’s gone from you now.”
“How do you know that?” he says.
“I’m not sure. Something about you has changed.” It’s an energy in the air and it’s shifted. It’s something between us.
We are quiet again for some time, his hand is still in my hair like he needs to touch me. I look at his sword to distract myself. He’s still wearing it and I wonder if he’s noticed how many times I’ve admired his stunning weapon throughout the night. Its hilt is gorgeous with its simple design and the grip is wrapped in some type of leather with a gleaming pommel sticking out the end. The cross-guard runs perpendicular to the large, wide blade, which is inlaid with more of the same Elven designs, matching the upside-down clover on our crowns. I miss my sword all the more.
“Do you find my sword pleasing? Would you like me to wear it while I bed you, my fire-breathing Markaytian?” he teases.
Huh. Fire-breathing? I do have the blood of a dragon coursingthrough me. I crack a half-smile at his compliment; he’s trying to patch things up between us.
