Page 28 of Tristan
“Despite his undesirable qualities, we all love him—adore him even. You will see. There’s something no one can name that makes everyone love him.”
Is she trying to insinuate that I’ll fall in love with him? No chance of that happening—I don’t even like him. “Yes, your highness.”
She laughs when I use her title. “Kathir, please call me Mother or at least Purinettira. We are much closer than ‘your highness’ now. I want you to know I can relate with how you must be feeling. Wewere an arranged marriage, the king and me.I hated Vilsarion for a long time. One day you’ll love my Corrik as much as I grew to love my husband.”
The tone of her voice suggests she’s smiling—if only Corrik would smile half as much as his mother does—but how can she smile and know I loathe her son? How can she ask me to call her, Mother?
“You know nothing of our ways, my dear, but you will soon see you were born to be an Elf. As you know, we allow few outsiders to frequent our lands. You’re special. Only someone special would have my blessing to marry my Corrik.”
I’m special, am I?
Why do they keep telling me I’m born to be an Elf? Shouldn’t I have been born an Elf in the first place if that’s truly my destiny?No matter what they say, I’m a dragon, not an Elf.
“Thank you, Mother,” I say.
She’s given me many high compliments, I want to return them in kind, so I start with honoring her the title, Mother, as she’s asked. It feels strange to call another that. I’ve two fathers, and only one mother, but I think I can make room for a second Mother.
When she figures out I’m not in the mood to talk, we ride in silence, and I watch the terrain change. I know this area—we are still within the borders of Markaytia—but we’ve traveled far from the palace, which is in the heart of Dragon’s Rock. We are well beyond the village and farther than Lucca and I would dare travel on our own, though we often did with my father and his guard. Father never went anywhere without at least ten men, and he expected the same of me.
We keep to the road South. Mortouge is to the North, but this road is much easier to travel than it is through the thick forests behind the North wall—a journey much easier made with just two.
The Elven entourage is several hundred men and women—supple, strong-looking warriors—maybe during the time I’m not needed as his sex toy, I could convince Corrik to forgo his silly notion that I shouldn’t have a sword and be permitted to fight alongsidethem. It wouldn’t be as Warlord, but it would be a satisfactory second prize. Fighting alongside the Elves would be honorable. It’s said that no human has the strength to fight with the elite band of Elven warriors, but according to the queen I’m special—once I become an Elf it might become a possibility.
By the time the sun sets low in the sky, we’ve made it to the borders of a town called Umbria, a Southern town where it’s decided we’ll stay for the night.
Corrik rides back to me and the queen. “How is my delinquent doing?”
“Corrik,” she chides. “Leave the boy alone.”
Corrik says nothing in response, nor do his features give away what he’s thinking as he rakes his eyes up and down, analyzing me. Once he’s decided whatever it is he’s decided, he dismounts and gestures for me to do the same. I follow behind him, but I notice that most of the other members of our party head off in different directions as they enter Umbria. Only about fifty men and women remain with us as we all travel on foot to wherever Corrik is leading us.
“Where are they going?” I ask.
“This town doesn’t have an inn large enough to provide for all of us; we shall have to stay in different Inns.”
Corrik’s parents head off with a different set of guards, and Fera heads off with a couple of the male guards wrapped around him.
“Only fifty guard with us Corrik?”
He raises an eyebrow and smirks. “What’s the matter? Scared my little Markaytian? Never fear, I shall protect you.”
“I’m not scared, I just wondered. My father used to travel with far more men, even to Umbria.” I came here once with Father. We always kept a full army with us, the men who couldn’t fit in the inn slept outside of it so they would be close by. He would never split them up.
“Your father is a human, we are Elves,” he replies, implying that humans are the inferior species.If he thinks humans are inferior, why marry one?
His horse is given to the stableman—I’ve no idea where Waii has got to—and we head inside. I blush when he grabs my hand. I’ve not stayed at this Inn before. It’s quiet, yet full of patrons who drink beer and eat pub stew.
The barkeep is younger than I expect. I thought I would see a round, old man, balding with a white beard, but instead it’s a tall man with short, dark hair and tanned skin. He’s clean-cut and greets Corrik full of sunshine—I immediately don’t like him.
“Hey! Corrik, you’re back!” He sets down the glass he’s cleaning to shake hands with my husband.
“That’sPrinceCorrik, actually,” I snap. Why is he familiar with my husband? Oh, I get it. They must have stayed here the night before the wedding and this “man” must have been his last-night-before-he-was-married-sex. I can see it in his eyes; he looks Corrik over now, feasting on him, sexing him up in his thoughts.
“Sorry. This is my husband,Tris-tan,” Corrik annunciates like I did earlier instead of telling him my Elvish name.
“Pleased to meet you,” he says. “I’m Alvin.”
Right. Sure, he’s pleased to meet me. Our handshake is curt and uncomfortable.
