Page 103 of A Brat's Tale
When he smiles at the man, I smile too and my heart swells with love for Corrik.
Alrik ruins everything. “I wouldn’t have allowed you to have a break. You don’t need it.”
I’m not “in form” at the moment so I spin my head to glare at him. “If you don’t mind, Your Highness.”
“But I do.”
“We’ll leave as soon as he’s done and then you won’t have to look at me anymore.”
“You’re annoyed.”
“Of course, I am. You’re antagonizing me on purpose.” Plus, he’s been avoiding me I don’t say. It’s not the time to have that conversation and maybe I don’t want to—I wish I could avoid him too but that’s not allowed because he’s the stupid crown prince. Totally unfair.
“Antagonizing you? I thought you’d take that as a compliment. I read every report from Strobavik, I know what you’re capable of.”
That nearly shocks me into silence. Nearly. I cross my arms at him. “Why are you complimenting me, Your Highness?”
He tenses, snarling which is all the answer I get. His dark eyes look black especially with the way his long white hair frames his face and hangs over his shoulders, imitating the experience of looking into a cave and finding two glistening orbs that want to kill you. Alrik is stunning. Everything about him is unforgiving—his expression, his body language, the energy swirling around him. Alrik seldom wears a shirt, and it’s weird to me, especially with him being the authority figure he is. He’s scarred to hell, not shy sparring with Zelphar’s warriors or joining a battle when he’s needed and choosing to keep his markings—long raised deformed flesh, marring the landscape of his pristine skin. If Alrik didn’t piss me off so much I might like him.
Just a little.
I’ve spent so long staring at him, I don’t realize he’s been doing the same to me until he snatches my wrist, the one with Strobavik’s cuff.
“What’s this?” I yank my wrist back or try to. It doesn’t move, locked in Alrik’s stone grip. His fingers dig into my flesh and I expect bruises. “Tell me, now.”
I flinch. “I am Strobavik’s seventh apprentice.” Or I will be. We haven’t had lessons yet.
“No one asked me. Why wasn’t I asked about this?”
He finally lets go of my wrist. I rub out the ache. “And why should you be? Corrik gave his permission.”
Alrik clenches his fists—Gods I piss him off—his nostrils flare. “Somehow, you manage to do things without my knowledge despite my best efforts. You’re a thorn in my side, Tristan. I don’t know why the Gods have cursed me with your existence.”
That’s it. I’ve had enough. I’m going to punch him square in his perfect teeth. He’ll throw me in the dungeon, but it will be worth it.
I fume at him, planning my attack, how I’ll reach that high, but thankfully Corrik returns to save me from myself. “Tristan? Are you all right?”
“Dandy. May we leave, sir?”
He looks between me and Alrik. Alrik shrugs. “Let’s go, my love.” He picks up my leash and we exit the Hall.
As soon as we’re far enough away, Corrik presses me against a marbled wall in an alcove where we can be hidden away and then thrusts himself against my body. I enjoy the pressure of his weight and the soft material of his white and gold coat. He kisses me long and hot and I would forget all about Alrik, but Corrik brings him up. “I’m sorry about my brother. But he’s taken with you Tristan.”
“What? No. No! I won’t believe it. No more Elves taken with Tristan. Especially no to him. He’s a total arse, Cor.” I speak quietly so Alrik doesn’t have me thrown in the dungeons for treason should someone overhear me and rat me out.
Corrik smiles and then nuzzles into my neck. “He’s not good at feelings and he’s sure you despise him.”
I huff. “I do.”
“You do not. I know you better than you think I do, Tristan.”
“Enough, Corrik. Either fuck me or take me to play with swords. I’ll hear no more of this nonsense about Alrik.” I open my neck to him and enjoy the way he nibbles at it.
“I do not wish to upset you. Come along. There are still things I wish to do to you.”
We return to our room. I’ve calmed down, my mind is onto the things Corrik will do. “Fetch my strap,” he says once we’re inside.
“What? Cor. I wasn’tthatmisbehaved.”
