Page 40 of Tristan
He laughs. He’s far more animated than Corrik and easier to like. “Tell me something fun. You look like the type to get into a lot of trouble.”
Is that stamped on my forehead?
“And incriminate myself?” I glance to Corrik’s back. He may be a ways in front of me, but I know how well Elves can hear. My arse is sore enough thank you.
“Corrik’s not likely to be upset by something you did in the past. Come on. Let’s have it.”
“All right, but then stop pestering me. Agreed?”
“Agreed,” he says with a goofy grin on his angular face. Diekin is quite attractive.
“When I was six, my cousin and I stole pies from the chef, and ran off to eat them with the pigs in the palace farm. When my papa found us, we were covered head to toe in mud—we looked like mini-mud people,” I say and smile at the memory.
He lets out a loud chuckle. “See? I can always spy a brat. You and I will have great fun together.”
I don’t know what he means by that, but I don’t think I want to find out. I think his kind of “fun” is like Lucca’s kind of “fun” and I want to stay out of trouble with my husband.
“Any more stories like that?”
I want to remind him he promised to stop pestering me, but I can’t crush the hopeful look on his face. This man is charming like Lucca. Perhaps the resemblance to Lucca is what makes me continue or perhaps it’s the feeling of having a companion again. Either way, I regale him with several stories of my youth—there are too many times Lucca and I were up to no good.
When we stop to eat, Corrik leaves again to scout the area, this time Diekin goes with him. Since we are beside a stream, and the stream is in view of the guards that are left with us, I take Waii to have a drink. It’s the first time in days I’m alone.
I brush my hand through my long locks of hair. I love my hair, but I’ve always associated it with being me, beingTristan.I find I don’t feel much like him anymore. Without my sword, I’ve been lost. But last night was remarkable—I don’t know who I am after last night. Being with this Elf has given me new awareness.
“There you are. Have you eaten?” Corrik says.
“That was a quick scout.”
“Diekin convinced me to come back.”
Silence passes between us for the magnitude of those words. Could Diekin know what I’ve been feeling since I woke this morning? It’s nice of him to send Corrik to me, but I’m not sure if Corrik’s the thing I need either.
“Have you eaten?” he repeats.
“Not yet.”
“Come.”
He leads me by the hand, and I tug Waii to follow. I pass her off to one of the guards and Corrik takes me away from the group—still within sight, but in an area more private.
There’s a pale blue blanket over the ground and a spread of food set up under a tree on a small hill. There may not be candles, but it’s not any less romantic. I blush.
Corrik clears his throat uncomfortably. “It has come to my attention that a ‘date’ might be in order.”
I try to decipher who would bring this to his attention and I narrow it down to Diekin and the queen. I hide my smile by looking down; he gently nudges my chin up and places a kiss on my lips. “Does that mean I’ve done well, Tristan?”
“Yes,” I say. “I didn’t know Elves did thing like date.” I can’t help getting a tease in.
“They don’t. Not in the way humans do, but we do know something of the practice.This is my attempt at learning the idiosyncrasies of your language or “lingo” asyouwould say.”
Markaytians might be conservative in some ways, but we are thought of as progressive in terms of language. Some of the phrases we use are considered modern. “I appreciate that, Corrik.”
His long ears wiggle with happiness.His eyes soften with shyness. “Shall we?”
He serves me, attempting to act like a gentleman on a first date I presume. He’s graceful yet severe. I swear, Corrik’s the only one I’veever known to pull both those off at once. I thank him when he gives me my plate.
“I heard you when you were talking with Diekin and I found I was jealous,” he says as he eats.
