Page 20 of A Brat's Tale
“To me you are.” He winked and walked off.
I walked into the room without knocking. Sometimes I hate Andothair because he’s so pretty. He’s got the bone structure of a fair-skinned Elf, which tends to be delicate and posh, with the beautiful dark skin of an Aldrien Elf. He’s not as dark as Baya who spends more time in the sun. Ando’s a sandy brown copper to Baya’s intense red copper. Even Ando’s brow arches in a pretty way giving him elegance he doesn’t deserve. His dark hair shines with strands of white twisted through it and always seems to fall over his shoulders in a perfect arrangement.
I was wrong. When I first laid eyes on Ando in the light, I thought he was young because he looks young—younger than most Elves his age. He’s still young for his station as Crown Prince but he’s much older than Corrik.
He maneuvers everyday sort of movements with the same grace Deglan does nocking her arrows or Baya on the field—Baya’s a bruteduring all other motion. Arrogance bleeds of Andothair like a gushing artery and it’s just as life-sucking to endure.
But sometimes I see what attracted Corrik. He has grand ideas. He’s powerful. Intelligent. And did I mention pretty? I want to stab his pretty dark eyes out.
“Andothair.”
“Warlord. Please sit.”
I did, but only because I was tired. The nap had done little to revive me from the never-ending nonsense. Andothair has a large room like Bayaden has. There is a desk, near the marble wall by a large window, with a ledge fat enough to sit on and the same sandstone floors as the rest of the palace. He likes to conduct private business in his chambers, though I don’t know why. If I were him, I wouldn’t want anyone near my personal space.
“Let’s get straight to the point, shall we? I’m not going to give you what you want unless you ask for it, but I will give you what you need.”
“What is it that I need Andothair?”
“You really don’t know, do you?”
I looked for something, a sword, a daggeranything. Father always taught me to be aware of my surroundings: anything and everything could be used as a weapon; plan an escape route if possible. Fight, if not.
But the strange implement on his dining table was all that was available, and I was pretty sure it was meant for me.
That’s when I understood. He thought I was there to be punished.
For what?
He sighed long and suffering like he was dealing with a complete idiot. “Tell me, Warlord, what do you know of your nature?”
It wasn’t the conversation I wanted to have with Andothair, but I sensed building energy in the air I knew not to deny. “Corrik. He told me I’m submissive like my papa.”
“And what do you think you are?”
“I think I’m something else. Diekin called itbrat.” I enjoyed what Corrik and I did, the erotic lessons he tried to teach me, but I wasn’tsure I could bethatwell-behaved all the time. Papa was always so much more well-behaved than I was. I needed to let loose.
Andothair picked up the implement and twirled it between the palm of his right hand and the fingers of his left. “You are a brat, Tristan. There’s no doubt of that, one whose guilt I can feel from the moon.”
Was I that obvious? Why was Papa too ashamed to talk with me about it? I glared at Andothair.
“You sought me out so I would punish you Tristan. Admit it or be gone. I don’t have time for you to waste.”
I wanted to storm out just to show him I wasn’t who he thought I was, but even though I didn’t understand it at the time, I instinctively knew it had been too long. It’s not my way to ask though and my inability to behave for long becomes clear to me; it’s not a character flaw it’s how I’m wired—how I “ask” to be spanked. “Andothair,please.”
“Why are you so stubborn? Were you like this with Corrik? No. He would never allow that,” he said the last part half to himself.I didn’t know then his relation to Corrik at the time, but his musings make sense now.Our stupid love triangle, which I was thrust into because Andothair couldn’t let go.
But unfortunately, Corrik was the crux of my issue. Talk of Corrik reminded me of what I did, and the heaviness cloaked me. For whatever reason, Andothair felt sorry for me. “Undress Warlord and allow me to take care of you. You’ll feel better.”
I began to undress. “Why do I have to ask you? Why can’t you just …”
“Spank you?”
“Yeah.”
“Because that wasn’t in the deal. This is personal, some might say more personal than sex and Tristan, my brother won’t like it for long. One day, you’ll have to go to him for this.”
“Fine.”
