Page 42 of A Brat's Tale
When we get across, I forget all about barriers and leaving, this place is incredible, unlike anything I’ve seen before. The trees are brighter, their color appearing more vibrant somehow. Foliage surrounds us every which way and the landscape buzzes with life, creatures—some I’ve seen and some I haven’t—flitting about.
Where there are structures, they’re awe-inspiring—there is nothing as intricate as Elven architecture. I don’t know how some of it holds up, built into mountainsides as it is, yet it’s also perfect and solid and has likely been there thousands of years. The seventh realm is full of warm colors, which doesn’t surprise me; we’re still a goodly distance to the south of Mortouge where I know the climate will be different.
“We shall stay at the Inn tonight,” Alrik declares, his cruel tongue wrapping around the Elvish words. “Tristan needs a proper bath; he’s starting to smell.”
Sorry, we can’t all be Elves with built-in air fresheners.I’d really like to clock that guy, but I hold my tongue. I think Corrik’s impressed with my restraint since he squeezes my hand and smiles. He’s still keeping his distance in other ways though. His gestures are courtship-like, usually only touching me when necessary, or when there’s an excuse to. He won’t sleep in the same bed and for an Elf, he’s modest doing his best to give me privacy when I have to change and when he can’t, he pretends to do something else. He’s continued to ask permission tobrush my hair, which is as far as he’s gone in the land of non-essential touching.
We haven’t kissed.
After stabling our shared horse, we head inside, followed by an armed guard. It’s a bit much, but I don’t say anything. Corrik’s paranoid and I get it. I can live with the extra detail in close proximity for a few weeks without complaint, so he can keep his mind at ease. I did think he’d cool once we entered the Realm since the barrier is supposed to be keyed to keep them out, but I suppose if Rogue Elves can get aboard a ship in the middle of nowhere, why not here too?
The Inn is beautiful, much fancier than the ones I’d stay with my father and Papa when we were on the road. Everything Elves touch seems to have unparalleled beauty. Corrik removes his shirt, leaving himself in his white pants with the gold trim, his long hair cascading down his back.
My long hair flows down too, tickling my mid-back, reminding me of Baya. I thought I’d feel more guilt about the whole thing, but I don’t. I mean, I am worried over how Corrik will react, but I’m no longer as sorry as I once was. There’s more guilt over my lack of guilt. “Shall I bathe so I don’t continue to offend your brother’s nose with my smell?” I joke. “By Gods, does he think I’m a flea-ridden human or something?” I can’t help the sadness I feel thinking about fleas and humans.
“Actually, no. I think he likes you quite a lot.”
I don’t like what’s behind his eyes. “You’ve got to be kidding me? You Elves. Is that how you all like someone? Pull on their pig tails?”
“Pig tails? But you don’t have—”
“—Markaytian saying.” Elves don’t like when they like humans. It’s the same story over again. I sigh. “Anyway, point me to the bath. I’ll head down, won’t be long.”
“Just a moment. I’ll come with you,” he says, fetching his sword.
For a moment, it’s strange to me, I’m used to popping around the palace, going here, going there, on my own. I hope he doesn’t plan on coming everywhere with me. “Yeah sure, Cor.”
We head down with the guard. Corrik doesn’t bathe but he keepswatch, without watching me, while I clean myself thoroughly. Alrik was a dick for saying it as he did, but he wasn’t wrong; I do smell. Maybe that’s why Corrik hasn’t come too close, though it never seemed to bother him before.
When I’m done, I smell like fresh gardenias and when I’m dressed, Corrik takes me back to the room. “I’ll get us food, you relax here,” he says.
“I wouldn’t mind stretching my legs. I’ll come with you.” I almost call it a date, but I’m not sure if we’re there yet. We seem to have come to this awkward place, one in which we’re married, we know we’ve got the hots for each other, but we’ve got no clue how to act around each other. I doubt there’s advice in the counseling books for this sort of thing.
Corrik frowns so deeply, his body frowns with him from his shoulders to the cut of his waist. He takes a breath. “Okay,” he says, but he’s uneasy.
“Is something wrong?
“No. Nothing. It’s probably better you stay with me anyway. Come.” He holds his hand out for me, his face hard as stone, he keeps the large sword strapped to his back, rather than leaving it here—he doesn’t need it while we have Inn stew.
From there it’s more awkwardness and Corrik looking around a lot. “You want to take our stuff to go, Cor?” Seeing him uneasy like this isn’t what I wanted to inflict upon him.
“Just eat, darling,” he says, but doesn’t smile.
Kinda dampens the whole date feel. When the server comes ‘round offering dessert, I begin to decline. “You don’t want dessert, sweetheart? That’s unlike you. Normally your stomach eats itself if you haven’t had at least one dessert.”
I love that he remembers. “You seem anxious to get back to our room.”
“Ahhh,” the Elven innkeeper says. “Can’t wait to have your way with this one, uh Prince Corrik?”
I wait for Corrik to return the banter, instead he’s annoyed. “Bring him the dessert.”
The innkeeper rushes away.
“What was that all about?”
“I am a prince of the first realm and so are you. He wasn’t addressing us with proper respect.”
“You’re usually keen to boast about fucking me, Corrik.” He knows it’s true, I keep hard eyes on him.
