Page 90 of Tristan
He doesn’t respond, but nods at me to speak, warning me with his eyes to choose my words carefully. “I’ve told him I’m going to stay with you and to prove my word true, I’m to enter a magically binding contract.”
“I don’t see why you would need to enter such a contract. You’re already mine, of course you’re going to stay with me.”
I look toward the destruction that is now his room. “Yeah, you seem real secure about things between us.”
“Tristan, there is something between us. I can feel it.”
“There is.” The Gods forgive me, there is.
“Then why would you need to make such a pledge?”
“I want Andothair to release Diekin and send him back to Mortouge. I’m willing to trade my person for that, permanently, and remain in your service.”
“If that is what you wish, I will participate, but I do not require it.”
“I don’t wish it either, but your brother requires it. Before anything is done, there’s something you must know.”
“Yes?”
“I love my husband.” I need to admit it out loud, for myself. I’ve never said so to Corrik. Even if it’s false love forged on our wedding night by sex magic, I feel love for him.
“I’m not worried about your affections for Corrik, Tristan,” he laughs. “In time, he will be a memory. I plan to make you forget him quickly.”
I hope he can. Thinking about Corrik hurts.
“I must go,” he says, pulling away. “And you can get to work on all this.” He gestures around the room at the complete travesty it is now.
“Me? You’re the one who destroyed it.”
“Because of you. Clean it up.”
“Of all the … I have a good mind to—”
“—to what?” he says, whipping around.
“Never mind.”
When he’s gone, I clean. It takes me most of the day until dinner. I leave dinner on the table for Bayaden in no mood to speak with him after a long day cleaning up his mess. I make the trek down to the dungeons to see Diekin instead, not bothering to secure permission from Andothair this time. I’ve been down here enough I figure I can lie about it. I’ve gained certain freedoms in my months in Aldrien.
“What business have you here?” one of the polished guards, Emerick, asks me.
“I’ve permission to seek Diekin.”
He considers me a moment, but as I expect he does not call my bluff. “Proceed, human.”
I take the key and carry on to Diekin’s cell. “Diekin?” He doesn’t look good. It hasn’t been that long since I’ve last seen him, has it?
“Warlord.”
I open the door and hurry to kneel beside him. “Here, I’ve smuggled you in some food.”
“Smuggled?”
“The prince doesn’t know I’m here.”
“Tristan, what are you up to?”
“He’s alive Diekin.Corrik,” I say with careful excitement.
