Page 116 of A Brat's Tale
“You’re not tired, Warlord? I would think becoming an Elf would take a lot of energy.”
I shake my head. “No. I’ve never felt so awake and alive.”
He smirks. “Now you see why being an Elf is the best. “
“There definitely are perks, I’ll say that.”
“I will rest then, brother. Even just a few hours will help me a lot. I should be nearly full health and we can move faster.”
I set up a watch by a tree with my bow and sword. I should be freezing, but I only feel a mild chill. The light’s not all gone yet, and I finally have time to look at what I can see of myself without a mirror. My skin is still the same copper shade it was, which means I’ll still stand out among the Mortougian Elves who are alabaster white, indicative of the winter climate they come from. I have the deep red tones I’ve always had, but they’re more vibrant than before. My hair is still black with the colored streaks Bayaden gave me, but it’s impossibly glossy. I hold my sword in front of my face, two eyes stare back, bluer than ever before, fiercer. I can’t see my whole face, but I still see my father’s eyes staring back at me, and I sigh, relieved.I am still of my father.
And my ears. I run my hand along them again, they’re so tall; that’s going to be something to get used to. My hair’s already getting caught on them.
It’s dark when Isensesomething nearby with a new sense ofintuition that seems to come from an ancient place. Quietly, I get up and creep over to where I’m being pulled. Things are different now and it’s easier not to make a sound as an Elf.
Out of the darkness, a large form slams into me and we tumble away. I know it’s a massive, male Elf, a lot bigger than me, even with my newly added size. As we tumble away, I manage to keep my sword, but I’m not sure I’m going to be able to fight this guy. I consider calling out to Diekin, but there’s something familiar in the feel of him and it distracts me.
I fumble for my sword and have it just in time to hold it over my head and stop his form slicing me through. In the moonlight, I look up to see his eyes. Is that… but I don’t have time to finish my thought. I have to pull out every skill I’ve ever learned to fight him and it’s in the fighting of him, I confirm who it is—I’d know his style anywhere.
My heart flutters weakening me briefly but I’m quick to regain my fire. Finally, we’ll get to fight in a real way. Bayaden never used his full force with me, knowing if he did, he would kill me. If I tell him it’s me, he’ll stop, and I want to see what he’s really like. It’s my only opportunity.
I have to fight like my life depends on it, because it does. This very well might turn out to be stupid—is this how I’m run through with a sword, like in Corrik’s vision?—but I want it. I’m able to get off my knees and anticipate his next swing, which comes at me full force. From there it’s his sword slicing through the air intent on killing me in the dark. We can’t see well enough to recognize the other by sight, we have only our other senses and our blades glinting in the moonlight.
I’m almost insulted he doesn’t recognize my fighting style as I do his and it distracts me long enough he’s able to knock my sword out of my hand. I’m about to let on it’s me, but he tosses his sword down and pounces on me, slamming me to the ground and pressing his lips to mine. “Still allowing my magnificence to distract you, I see?”
Bastard. He knew it was me all along.
I attack his lips, kissing him back, sucking him in like air.
It’s not that I love him anymore than I do Corrik, Bayaden and Iunderstand each other in a different way is all. I need both, I wish I could have both. With the polyamorous nature of Elves, I feel it should be possible somehow, the only kink in the chain being the whole war thing. “Tristan,” he whispers. “I knew it was you the moment you lifted your sword.”
I smile. “Same. I’m surprised you’d fight me so ferally.”
“I saw the ears, I wanted to see if I was right about your skills as an Elf.”
“And?”
“You need a lot of work.”
“Hey!”
I whack him, he laughs. “I’m not kidding, you can improve, but you are still the finest swordsperson I’ve seen. I wish I could see what you look like, properly. I can only see some of you.” He presses his hands around my body, feeling me.
“You might get the chance. Baya, what happened?”
He rolls onto his back, bringing me with him and I’m reminded of how we used to lie in his bed back in Aldrien. He sighs. “Ando ordered us to lay siege on you. His goal this time was Corrik.”
“So, he doesn’t care about me anymore? I’m devastated.”
He laughs. “For a long time, he thought you were dead, but when he found out you weren’t, he knew you had to have had help to get through the veil. He suspected me for a time, but Father played a hand in convincing him it must have been Corrik.”
I hate how their father manipulates them, even Ando who I’ve always been on the fence about. “So, you’ve come to take Corrik.” It’s not a question.
“Yes. At least, I’m here totryto take Corrik. I attempted to warn you, best I could.”
“That voice … it was you.”
“Yes,” he says, smiling at how clever he is. “Saving that, I was hoping I’d run into you first. Alone.”
