Page 6 of Tristan
“By reminding me I have no control over my own penis?”
The two women giggle at that. I don’t normally say such things, but Lucca’s revealed enough that it doesn’t matter at this point.
“All right. Maybe that wasn’t the best thing to say, but it’s kind of funny.”
“Funny? How about I lock up your penis, and tell you not to use it except when I say? In fact, I knowjustwhat to leave you as a parting gift.”
The look of horror on his face is worth having to endure this conversation.
“Okay. Point made.”
“Good.” Now I’m the one smirking.
Lucca behaves himself, for Lucca, the rest of the bath. Though I’ve gone longer without ejaculating, I’m especially on edge today.What better way is there to relieve tension than with a long, intense orgasm?
I say my goodbyes to Sam and Niña once I’m dressed, and Lucca and I head to breakfast.
Father is the only one in attendance. Not unusual, but I did expect more of the family to breakfast with us on this day. Arcade Kanes is a taciturn man, so I don’t expect a farewell speech, but I do hope—as foolish though it may be—for some kind words of approval. Perhaps an‘I’m proud of you, Tristan.’
“Where have you lot been? And Tristan—why in the Gods’ names are you dressed like that? The Prince will be here any minute.What if he wishes to see you? You can’t see the Elven prince looking like you’re ready to shoe a horse.”
I sputter, not sure which question to answer first. I’m notthatunderdressed. I just didn’t bother putting much into my outfit for breakfast, seeing as I’m just going to take it off again. I don’t say this to Father, though. Wedding day or no, he’ll discipline me if he sees fit.
“Sit down. Eat—quickly. There’s no time for lollygagging. I would think you could act as an adult for one day. You’ll never be anything but a child.Irresponsible!” He speaks only to me. He’s never cared what Lucca acts like for the most part.
Lucca and I sit and begin piling food on our plates. My face burns the whole time, embarrassed that I’ve disgraced myself in the eyes of my father. I think about apologizing, but don’t, knowing he prefers my silence. His eyes rake over me, and something makes him madder, but I can’t figure out what. When I think enough time has passed for him to cool over our late appearance to breakfast, I take a chance and ask, “It’s bad luck to see each other before the wedding, I thought…? He won’t want to see me when he gets here, will he, Father?”
“You’d better hope not looking like that.”
I put my head back to my breakfast, not looking up again, until a messenger comes in to speak with Lucca. I get the impression he wants to speak with me too, but Father’s tense demeanor has succeeded in wrapping tightly around me and the messenger keeps his distance. Lucca nods in my direction as the boy speaks into his ear.
I’m fast losing my appetite, but rather than draw attention to myself by pushing my plate away, I set to work finishing breakfast with a large glass of fresh milk. I think I’m home free. I’m about to ask to be excused, when Father stands with authority, his long chestnut hair sways with his movements, and he unsheathes his sword to point it at my face. He stands for what seems like a long time, his jaw tight, his upper lip curled. Cold eyes pierce me, and his fingers are wrapped tightly around the hilt as he either finds the words he’slooking for or slits me belly to throat. At the moment, I might choose the slitting. Silence closes in on me, and even Lucca knows not to utter a single joke. His eyes are glued to my father, as are mine. Just when I decide it’s going to be an execution, Father says the four words—the only four words—that could make this day worse.
“Do not disappoint me.”
I don’t get opportunity enough to form a response before he’s walking away, his crisp boots echoing off the stone of the large dining hall, re-sheathing his sword as he goes. I sink low in my chair and run a hand through my hair.
“Don’t listen to him, Tristan. You know him well enough to know what he’s like. He’s nervous too. You are his only son, and he has to give you away.”
“Well, that’s a fine way to say it.”
I’m distraught as it is and now I have a pit in my stomach. It appears that I can’t live up to my father’s standards—he has no faith in me—and now I’m expected to live up to those of an Elven prince? I know how this fiasco will end. I’ll be sent home within two new moons.
“Your mother wants to see you,” Lucca says.
“I’d better go now then. I haven’t much time.” I mean that in a few ways, of course.
“Your mother will fix you up. When you return to your rooms, I’ll be ready to prepare you. I’ve practiced,” he says. His obvious prideelicits a weak smile out of me.
“Tristan, one more thing,” he says, a cheeky grin spreads onto his face. “YourMasterhas arrived.” He runs off before I can smack him for more teasing, but he needn’t have worried—I’m too flustered by the news.
The prince is in the palace.
Lucca’s risky little plan works—I’m no longer thinking about my father.
She sits in front of her dressing mirror, her attendant behind her holding the clasp of a stunning pearl necklace draped around her neck. Mother admires it in the mirror, deciding if it’s the right one. Her raven hair, like mine, wraps around her body but whereas mine is bone straight, hers is arranged in bouncy curls that pop about as she tilts her head from side-to-side, trying to catch the pearls from all angles. Her shining grey eyes narrow as she shakes her head and purses her lips. “It’s beautiful, but it’s not right. Tristan will be accented with silver. I’ve got to have something silver to match,” she says to her attendant as her eyes lock onto the corner of the room, her lids suggest her focus is elsewhere. When Mother does that, I know she’s off having a conversation with herself. She’s nervous.
“You look beautiful no matter what Mother. Wear what you wish,” I say.
