Page 2 of Tristan
He’s making me sound like cattle, but I know he doesn’t mean it that way. “If it were about money, I wouldn’t be in this predicament in the first place.”
Distress mars his beautiful features. It’s as desperate a face as I’ve ever seen on my dear, sweet cousin, and it tugs at my heart. In a flash, he throws himself on top of me, clinging to my torso, and sobs.
“I know. I know the truth well—I’m never to see you again. How will I live without you?”
I smooth his wet blond hair off his face and kiss his forehead. “You’ll do fine Lucca. You’ll go onto achieve great things.”
“Do you think he’ll let you visit?”
“He might,” I say, forcing a smile to filter through my doubt. Appeased, Lucca leans back and floats away from me again, exposing himself to the sun.
Iremember the day I was called to the Great Hall alone, which set off all kinds of warning bells.Lucca and I were attached at the hip then and were usually called to the Hall together. In hindsight, I think it was because my uncle, King Amarail Kanes, knew Lucca would react poorly when he heard the news.
I walked into the hall with my stomach already churning and when I saw that my father and uncle were not alone, it plummeted like it had been shoved in ice-cold water.
That was when I sawhimfor the first time.
The power of his features came from what wasn’t there, rather than from what was. The man was devoid of imperfections; not one thing about his face or his body hinted to a deficiency. There was noweakness in his impenetrable demeanor—the man was used to winning and getting what he wanted. His cold purple eyes knew no warmth or sunshine and sat as sentinels atop the high bridge of his patrician nose, complementing the supercilious manner that surrounded him. Without a smile on his face, he looked cruel and stony. At the same time, there was no darkness in him, whatsoever. Gold hair flowed long over silver robes that were open to reveal porcelain white skin; unmarred, and solid. The breezy, pretty robes did nothing to diminish the restrained force of his chest and abdomen muscles—he seemed to dominate the effeminate attire, as if he’d already defeated it. Not a body built for fieldwork, but for blood—war.
My cock stirred for him and made it impossible to deny that I was attracted to this ice mountain of a man—I blushed. This was not the place I wanted to have an erection. I shifted my eyes away from the prince, down to my boots, placing my hands over my crotch.
“King Vilsarion, Prince Corrik. This is Tristan, my son,” Father introduced me.
“Welcome,” I said, giving a deep bow to each using the Markaytian etiquette Papa taught me, then I took my place beside Papa.
“Tristan,” my uncle said. “We are honored to announce that we have reached an alliance with Mortouge.”
I smiled my best smile.Absolutely, bloody fantastic!The Elves didn’t align themselves with just anyone and knowing what I knew of the recent unrest in the Northeastern Plains, since we helped them a while back, I knew it was best to have as many strong alliances as possible, if the Kanes were to maintain our hold of Dragon’s Rock. For the first time in millennia, we had to take extra measures to protect Markaytia’s crown city.
“That is excellent, Sire.” I turned to the Elven king. “I’ve been named as successor to my father at my coming-of-age ceremony, and as future Warlord, I will look forward to dealings with your Warlord. We Markaytians could learn from your teachings. I’ve readmuch about your weapons—I know you forge the best ones,” I gushed.
I wage for peace, but war is inevitable and the prospect of fighting alongside an Elf was exciting. All I knew of Elves at the time was of their weapons and great wars. I had little interest in their other qualities. The Elves are a beautiful, mysterious race, but I didn’t see much use getting involved in their politics or anything else about them since they were also a private race who didn’t often allow outsiders into their grand kingdom.
I didn’t expect the Elven king to frown at my words. The smile on his face lit up the room before, and especially standing next to his grouchy-looking son, the contrast was far reaching. I turned to look at Papa, confused, and he took a sharp breath, ready to cry. Father stepped between us; his dark eyes pinned me in place.
Uncle continued. “The alliance will be sealed with a marriage, Tristan. You to Prince Corrik.”
The displeasure must have been plain on my face, though I tried for the life of me to hide it.
“This is the opportunity of a lifetime, Tristan,” Uncle continued, trying to sell me on the idea while complimenting the Elven royals. “You will get to move to Mortouge. It will be so lovely. You are lucky.”
How could Uncle give me away and try to convince me how wonderful it would be? He knows how much I love Markaytia. Worse. He knows of the struggles and hardship I endured to earn the honor of being named future Warlord at my coming-of-age ceremony by my father.
If he wasn’t the king and my uncle, I would have told him to stuff it, but as it were, I couldn’t do that. I respected him too much, even if he’d momentarily gone insane. I listened with rising dread and tried not to smash anything.
“You will follow Elven law,” he rambled on.
Obviously.
He said other stuff too, but I stopped listening. When the initialshock wore off, I cut him off to ask, “But how will I become Warlord if I move to Mortouge, Uncle?” I already knew the answer to this, but I wanted him to say, in front of everyone, I wanted everyone to know what I was giving up.
When Uncle’s smile vanished, I wished I’d kept my mouth shut, but it was too late, and my words brought him to what he’d been avoiding. “No, Tristan. You will never succeed your father as Warlord of Markaytia, I’m afraid.”
I looked over at Father, hoping he would say something contrary to this whole debacle of me marrying the Ice Prince, but his face lacked emotion. It was the same face I’d endured through my youth, unyielding to anything that stood in the way of the kingdom he’d sworn to protect. Marrying Prince Corrik was a chance to obtain something no other land had: the protection of the Elves of Mortouge. Which did bring to mind, why us?Whatever their reason, this arrangement was of great value. Markaytia would be undisputed, and it was the greatest gift I could give to Markaytia and to Dragon’s Rock.
More than what I could give as Warlord.
No matter how much I was attracted to the Prince when I first set eyes on him, I hated him for choosing me. Of course, it wasn’t unusual for members of the royal family to have to submit to an arranged marriage. I just thought that if it happened, I would remain in Markaytia with two feet firmly planted in Dragon’s Rock.
