Page 43 of A Brat's Tale
He sits back and folds his hands. “Maybe I shouldn’t have been.”
“It is the way of Elves.”
“But not of Markaytians.”
“It doesn’t bother me, Corrik.”
“It did.”
“Are we going to fight here?” I hiss. “I’d rather not.”
He calms down. “No fighting. Look I’m being … I will relax. Please have dessert, Tristan.”
I raise a brow. “Will it make you feel better?”
He nods. “I don’t deserve it, but it’s for the best.”
What does he mean by that? He’s right though. I’ve learned something about soothing Toppy, Dominant Elves over this year. They get riled when their mates are unsettled; things like hunger can count as unsettled. It’s the same with disobedience. There are triggers and controlling their emotions as well as their guttural response becomes near impossible. It’s too primal to tame, and it’s better to learn your Elf rather than fight forces of nature.
This time I reach across the table to grab his hands, and he stares at them. “I will eat until I’ve had my fill Corrik, but you’re telling me what you meant by that comment when we get upstairs.”
He peeks up at me, his ears peer up with him—they move in a finer way than Bayaden’s do. “You’re so much older than you were. Mature.”
I am and I have a theory on it. I think it’s a lot to do with living my true brat nature. Father did the best job he could, I see that now, but he was not made to handle brats. His ways were good for me when I was riled up to an extreme, but not for every day. Bayaden had a way with me and it worked. I’m the most myself I’ve ever been, I’m scared of losing it with Corrik’s ways because ultimately that’s up to himnow—he’ll make the rules, he’ll direct us. But will we flow? Or get stuck at a dam?
“Just wait till I’m comfortable, you’ll see I’m the brat I always was.”
He tilts his head. “Confident, too, I see. Okay, Brat. I’m game.”
The look he gives me is meaningful; my heart lifts and new life spreads through me. We have a lot to work out, a lot, but if we can have that, it could work. I’m about to do my thing, but we’re interrupted. Alrik’s voice booms through the Inn. “Corrik.Corrik!”
Corrik’s eyes tear from me to meet the solid black ones. “What is it, brother?” he says, keeping his voice low.
“What are you doing down here with him?” he says under his breath. “He’s bathed. I see no other reason to be down here.”
Corrik’s quiet. I think he’s going to argue. Instead, his chair slides out, and he raises his large form from the table, reaching for my hand. “Come Tristan. I’ll have the rest of our food brought up.”
I take his hand.
“I’ll do it,” Alrik says. “Stay put and get sleep. We leave at first light.”
“What is up with your brother?” I ask.
“Things haven’t been easy on the road. He’s as anxious to get you home as I am,” Corrik explains removing his sword and setting it by the bed.
I remove my tunic—my sword is already by the bed as I saw no need to bring it to the baths—and I try to put Corrik at ease. “It has been a long day. I shall eat my cake and go directly to sleep.” I open the covers and collapse on the bed. “That is unless … do you want to have your wicked way with me?”
“No.” That’s all I get other than to watch him remove his white jacket with the gold trim. He leaves his pants on.
Truly I was joking. I know Elves have a different nature than Markaytians, but I need to tell him about Bayaden before we can do that. I did expect some banter back and forth though, maybe someflirting, but not a flat no. In any case, it’s not the time to deal with that one. I revisit his earlier comment. “All right, lay it on me, what did you mean at dinner, when you said you don’t deserve it?”
He lies on the bed next to me—it’s the closest we’ve been since our reunion—when we’re not riding a horse. He tries to make his face blank. “I lost you Tristan, and it was my fault. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to make it up to you and yet you’ll have to submit to my nature, regardless.”
It’s true. I know well the danger in riling Elves. I’ve done it enough times to have learned my lesson. “I’m not upset with you for that. It wasn’t your fault.”
“It was. You must know by now of the relations I had with Andothair.”
Right. That whole thing. Honestly, I’m just sick of it. I don’t care what ex-boyfriends he’s had. “What Ando decided to do is no fault of yours. He needs to move on.”
