Page 74 of Tristan
“That was very good, I feel much more relaxed.” His eyes flick to my engorged member. “Does that need seeing to?”
“I’ll manage.” I can’t help but look him over even as I decline his offer. He’s a beautiful man, much more so than Andothair who is nothing short of sublime. Bayaden is larger than Andothair despitehim being younger. He spends far more time training; his body is strong and I’m sure it’s cut from iron. When he moves, he stalks, each limb calculating where the one after it should go for best economic gain. He studies things: the air around him, the light, the people as a good warrior should, but he does so instinctively and with delicate grace. If he were not on the field at war, he would be a dancer. Contrary to the brutal tact he fronts himself with, he’s got quite the sense of humor, but unfortunately, he shares his people’s dislike for humans and most of the time his jokes have me at the center of them. He does attempt good form on occasion and when his brother is around. All in all, he’s not as mean as he could be and he treats me fairly most of the time, well, for a slave. It’s more than I expected and more than I wanted.
“You did well at practice today too.”
“Is there a reason for all these compliments?”
“No. I just thought … you look unhappy, my brother has noticed.”
“Really? And he cares?”
“Apparently.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know,” he says in bored tones as he gets up and puts on a pair of pants. “But I’m tired of hearing about it so sharpen up, will you?”
I lie back on the bed. My body is bruised and battered. The Elves are hard on me; they don’t care that I’m human or if they hurt me, only if I’m damaged irreparably. They’ll answer to Andothair for that.
“That lot over there needs to be washed. See to it and bring me some dinner.”
“Will that be all?”
I’ve kept many servants and in all my life, I’ve never had to lift a finger for these kinds of chores so I’ve no gift for it—I’m a terrible manservant. It drives Bayaden crazy.
“No. You’ll polish my boots—all of them—and then I wish a bath in my chambers.”
“I can’t possibly do all of that. I’m exhausted Bayaden.”
“Then next time you’ll think twice about being insolent.”
“I thought I just relaxed you.”
“Well now I’m agitated again.”
“What happened? Why were you agitated in the first place?”
“Because Andothair breathes down my neck,” he hisses. “He wants warriors trained faster than is possible; he’s impatient of late.”
“Why would that be?” I say to myself getting off the bed and dressing so I can attempt to do the prince’s bidding. It’s the first intriguing thing I’ve heard in all the months I’ve been here. Maybe I’ll ask Andothair if I may visit Diekin. Bayaden hasn’t said by what time he’d like these chores completed, perhaps he’ll have his knickers by noon tomorrow if he’s lucky.
“How am I to know? He doesn’t see fit to tell me and even if he did, I wouldn’t tell you.”
Huh. I didn’t think he heard me. I still forget about the superior hearing of Elves from time to time.
“Don’t look like that. Shouldn’t you be getting on with it?” he says.
“Right, your highness—boots to polish and all that.”
“And if you’re going to take your time with everything else, at least bring my dinner straight away. I’m more likely to be agreeable with food in my stomach.”
I move to leave out the door, my mind far away from my aching cock or his dinner preparations.
“Aren’t you forgetting something, Tristan?”
“Oh. The laundry. Right.”
“I swear. You have got to be the world’sworstservant.”
