Page 46 of A Brat's Tale
Papa’s advice applies here too, especially when Corrik reminds me so much of Father right now. Somehow, even though he picked me and not the other way around, I managed to marry my father.
I start to undress so that I can get into bed, but Corrik stops me. “What are you doing?”
“Getting undressed for bed…?”
“There are nightclothes in the closet. Go in there and change. I will wait till you are done and then I will do the same.”
“Do you even own nightclothes, Corrik?” I say, trying to be coy, trying to be fun. He’s not having any of it.
“Now, Kathir.” He uses all Elvish, which means he’s not impressed with my teasing.
I want to cry. All of it makes me miss Bayaden more than I already do. If not for the treaty, I’d leave in the morning. I do as he asks, finding myself a set of pale blue nightclothes, which will be fucking weird for me. I haven’t worn nightclothes since I was a little boy. I’m quick about it, sensing he doesn’t want me out of his sight long; when it’s his turn, I wait on the bed.
At least the bed is divine. It’s very Corrik, with plush, ice blue satin and white accents. The bed is large—it can fit at least ten grown elves in it. Way overboard, but there has to be some kind of perks being an Elven prince, an incredible bed is one. While I wait, I give myself a pep talk, again trying to channel Papa. I know he had to deal with my father’s moods, he was good at it. I try to think of what he might have done. Papa was very submissive.
Trouble is, I’ve learned that while, I am submissive, yes, I’m more a brat. True submissives are fairly well-behaved, I am not. Bayaden would pull me to him some nights and hold me still as I cursed him, letting me get everything out, and I’d get quiet. “Are you done now?” he would say.
“No.”
“No?”
“I don’t want you to spank me.”
“Too bad. That’s happening. You are a brat Tristan. You need a good spanking when you get like this.”
He’d put me over his knee and spank me until I cried and yeah, I would feel a world better.
Corrik climbs into bed. He looks funny in sleep clothes; I miss his large naked body.Temporary, this is temporary, Tristan.But I’m not sure it is. He does climb nearer to me, which surprises me since he’s being so formal, but if I’m to think like Corrik, I would say the closeness is to better protect me. He doesn’t reach out to bring me into his arms.
I’m not sure I want him to anyway. I’m not feeling close to him, but I’m used to someone holding me to sleep. I was supposed to sleep on my bed, but after the first couple of months, I would magically end up in Bayaden’s bed each night. He would spank me like a bad pet and then refuse to let me go anywhere, telling me to close my eyes and go back to sleep.
I want to reach out to touch Corrik, but I can’t, too afraid of the rejection I’m bound to get.The morning Tristan. This will all be resolved in the morning.“I’m glad to be home, Corrik,” I try. Hearing me call this place home should lift his spirits.
“Home? How can this be your home? You’ve been here hours.”
“Corrik, have I done something to anger you? If I have, please tell me what I’ve done, so I can fix it.”
He’s quiet, and then he says, “No. It’s nothing you have done, and it’s also nothing you can fix.”
Since Corrik doesn’t want much to do with me, other than to make sure I’m not going to disappear, I wrap myself up in my hair,feeling Bayaden surround me like he promised, missing him as I promised.
From there, things get worse,muchworse.
In the morning, the fresh sunlight of the eternal winter day comes in through the window and I wake up to a cold bed. Corrik’s gone.
It’s freezing, especially compared to what I’m used to—nights so hot you don’t need covers, the warm sandstone under my bare feet when they hit the ground, as I’d prepare to head off and fetch Bayaden’s breakfast. Corrik thought to leave me a warm robe and slippers. I climb out of bed and dress warmly, thinking I’ll head off in search of food. My stomach is already growling. I don’t know the rules of this place, but if I catch it for breaking one of them, at least the spanking I’d get for it will be worth it.
When I tug on the door, I find it locked. I start yanking, pulling with all my might to no avail. I bang on the door, shouting until my voice is hoarse, but no one comes. When Corrik dares to show his cowardly face, I’m sitting at the long table, furious. “What is the meaning of this, Corrik Cyredanthem?”
He’s ready for me though, and I realize it’s for this moment he’s been preparing—while we traveled and even last night—steeling himself for when I would take him on not as Tristan, but as Warlord. “I understand this will be hard for you, but soon you’ll come to see it was the right choice.”
“What is the right choice, Corrik? Making me prisoner?”
“You are not a prisoner. This is your home.”
“Last night you said this could not be my home. I’ve not been here a day.”
“I was upset. This is your home and I am your husband. I willmake the choices right for us and this is what’s right for your safety and my peace of mind. You will remain in this room, under lock and key until you are ready to become Elf. When you are, you will be strong enough to combat another Elf. Right now, you are too weak and fragile. You must be protected at all costs.”
