Page 5 of Tristan
We both know that wasn’t what he intended on saying. Lucca never uses words like lovely. My mood takes a further plunge. Now I’m cheerlessandvexed.
“Come on dear cousin. I see you shan’t be teased this morning. Let’s wash some of the sleep from your eyes and hope you improve your disposition before the sexy Elf prince sees how grouchy you are before breakfast,” he says, dragging me by the hand.
“That’s still teasing,” I mutter to myself, but follow him anyway.
The bathing hall is a chaotic mess, as usual, but more so on this morning. The royalty that resides in the palace scramble to get ready for the ceremony, not paying any mind to Lucca and I—thank the Gods. We make our way over to one of the free baths.
Sam and Niña, our two female attendants, greet us and begin to disrobe me and my cousin. Prince Corrik wouldn’t allow for another man to touch me so he arranged to have a female attendant assigned to me.Controlling Bastard.
Once, he let me go for an entire fortnight without allowing me release. It’s a wonder I didn’t murder anyone, though I do recall everyone steering clear of me for three days before the missive appeared that time. I thought of little more than tearing out theprince’s violet eyes—the anger still a poor distraction against my aching cock.
I’ve learned that he—my cock, whom I’ve begun referring to in the third person—is a savage beast with a mind of his own, and once disturbed, is relentless until sated. Unfortunately for the two of us, I never know when relief will come.
The Elves are creatures of magic and he left an empty journal. He has a journal in Mortouge that is its twin, and when he writes a message in his copy, that’s when a message appears in mine—magic. With it, a pen, also of magic which has given us the ability to write messages all this time. You'd think we’d jump at the opportunity to get to know each other, but we haven’t—at least not me. I suppose he has written to me every evening. He’d make a sorry attempt to ask me questions and spark conversation in between all his commands for me. There were plenty, by the way. His biggest concern was over whether I’d ‘deflowered’ myself or not. No, of course not. I made an oath didn’t I? I don’t know what Elves do, but Markaytians keep their oaths.
“Tristan,” he said in one of his dictatorial messages, and I knew I was being scolded. “What have you been doing?” A simple enough question, with all sorts of implications; I read right through them.
“Nothing I shouldn’t be,” I responded, and hoped he could feel my anger through the damn book. He would sign off by writing the same thing in return every night: “Thank you, my Tristan. Sleep well.”
It infuriated me. How dare he call mehis Tristan? I cared little how true it was.
Lucca and I slip into the large bathing pool together. Either Corrik doesn’t know I still bathe with my cousin or he doesn’t care. We’ve bathed together since we were small boys—there is nothing sexual about it. Markaytians may be private over sex, but not over being nude. Niña takes extra care to wash and exfoliate my skin today; she applies softening ointments, and some oil to smooth out my long hair. While she turns to fetch a scrub brush, I notice a spot she’smissed on her first pass over me—the head of my cock is leaking pre-come, enough to slick the head and send a jolt of pleasure through my groin.
Thankfully, she turns back before I succumb to my cock’s ability to hypnotize me like a python and use me as an instrument to get the sex he wants. She scrubs me with more force than usual, and my skin feels like it’s burning. “I’ll look better with my skin the color I came with, thank you very much.”
“I’m so sorry, your Highness,” she replies, but doesn’t look sorry at all.
“We’re not married yet. There’s no need for such formalities,” I say.
“Don’t mind him,” Lucca says from beside us. “He’s just sore about having to lose his virginity tonight.”
The three of them burst into laughter. If only they really knew what a deviant I’ve become; losing my virginity is the least of my worries. It’s the only perk. Sex is a private thing amongst Markaytians, as Lucca is well aware, even if that little cultural aspect has skipped his moral character. He knows better than to tease me aboutthatin particular. If he’s not careful, he’ll be wearing a black eye to my wedding.
“How long’s it been?” he pushes, his indecency without bounds. “I’ll bet he wanted you good and randy for tonight, ‘uh?”
I won’t punch my cousin on my wedding day.“I’m not a broodmare.”
“That’s not an answer. Come on, it’s just us. We won’t tell anyone.”
“Right. I’m going to be forthcoming with my private information so you can continue to make fun of me?”
“My guess is at least a week,” he mock-whispers, as if his words are only for Sam.
“Lucca!”
“Maybe two. The last time the Prince made him go two weeks without mas—"
“Five. It’s been fiveGods’damned days,” I say when he won’t shut up.
He gives a self-satisfied smirk as he waits for Sam to finish rinsing his hair.
“That’snotwhy I’m grouchy,” I say.
“Sure, it’s not.”
“Okay, it’s not theonlyreason I’m grouchy.”
“I know why you’re upset—you’ve every right to be—but it’s all the more reason I should take your mind off things.”
