Page 51 of A Brat's Tale
“Outside my door?”
“Yes. He slept on the floor one night, but Alrik quickly caught word of his behavior and put an end to that. He sleeps in the guest room, next door.”
“But, why did he refuse me earlier?”
“Things with Corrik are bad. His parents weren’t happy with him when they learned of his relations with the Rogue Elf Prince, and he’s still trying to make it back into Alrik’s good graces. Plus, he’s torn up about you. He knows what this is doing to you, but he doesn’t see another way. You have every right not to feel sorry for him given yourpredicament, but he is struggling too. It’s getting harder for him to face you.”
“I have little mercy for him at the moment,” I say, but the part where he’s been sitting outside my door, day after day, going as far as to sleep out there gets to me. I had pictured him off doing things, like living his best life and having fun which I am forbidden from doing. I’d even take mucking out Bayaden’s stables over this.
“I know, it’s a bad situation. I see both sides, even if I disagree with one side. Corrik is more worried than I’ve ever seen him, this shook him. It can only speak to how much he cares for you. I do realize this is little solace for having to remain confined.”
Wow, even Diekin is struggling. “Come, let me show you around my confines. I have to say, if I am to be locked in a tower, it’s not too shabby,” I tell him in Elvish, unfortunately, most of what I say is still with a lot of Aldrien accent.
Diekin doesn’t care. “Lead the way, Warlord.”
Diekin and I have a good time and I feel better having spent time with someone I’m not mad at. But too soon, he has to leave. “I will come back as often as Corrik will allow,” he tells me.
I feel so good after the visit, I do something I haven’t dared. I remove my robes and put on a single pair of pants, ones that were given to me by Bayaden, ones I’m surprised Corrik hasn’t taken away yet, and head into the room that is meant for me to practice with my sword.
I have glanced at the room from afar, but I haven’t been in here. It’s a room without furniture, to leave room for footwork and flipping about the room. The floor is made of stone, placed at unequal levels, I imagine, to provide unequal terrain for training purposes. Against the far wall, my sword stands lonely in its baldric. I walk over to it, pick it up and unsheathe it. I can read the inscription now. I smile.
“He who wields this sword wields the fire of Dragons.”
The king knows me.
I spend the next several hours practicing. I practice some of whatmy fathers taught me, with some of what I learned from Bayaden, and invent new moves from the combination of styles. Sword fighting is my art, it’s how I create, how I feel the world.
The sun goes down, and I’m still swinging, dodging, slicing. Sweat pours off me and I relish in the feel of my hair whipping around me once again. I notice when I have a spectator. He strides into the room and pulls out his sword. “You are quite beautiful when you have a sword in your hand. Let’s see what you’ve got,” Corrik says.
My eyes gleam at the chance and I can’t believe this ismyhusband saying this, but he is, and it gives me hope.
Corrik is beautiful with a sword too, and I get distracted wanting to watch him, my cock hardens as the sweat begins to pour off him, along with one of my favorite scents, the scent of a fight. I can tell he’s going easy on me, but it’s still too much and when my knees hit the ground, it once again drives home the point that I am no match for an Elf. I hear the ring of steel as Corrik slides his sword home. “When you are Elf, I think you might best me. You’re the finest I’ve seen.”
I beam, feeling so good, it gives me a high, my muscles are tired and aching in the best way. “You’re not worried I’m going to run myself through?”
“A bit, but my vision has come again a few times since you’ve been away and I’m sure now, it was not by your own hand. So please try not to fall on your own sword, eh?”
I laugh. “I won’t,” I say, catching how nervous Corrik is. “I know I have done nothing but berate you, I shall refrain today.”
He looks down at the floor. I have never, in my recollection, seen Corrik display anything close to submissive, but I see it now. He’s stopped knowing how to be around me at all. He knows what he’s doing is affecting me, but he doesn’t see another way around this. His eyes fill with tears. “I am sorry, Tahsen.”
Oh.And he feels he’s an immense failure. I see that now. When my parents get here, he will have to face them as the Elf who lost me to a rogue band of Elves who, for as far as anyone knew, abducted me into sexual slavery. He doesn’t think he’ll be forgiven, and if he ever forgives himself, it will be a miracle.
Somehow this, his version of keeping me safe, makes amends for all that.
I take his hands. “I’m sorry too. I can’t say I’ll ever be happy about this, but I will learn to accept it.” Thankfully, I am doing well in my studies. All I can do now is make sure this only lasts a year and hope Corrik will relax by the time I’m an Elf. My anger doesn’t help anything.
“This means a lot to me, Tristan.”
I notice the bits of white in his hair again. Without really looking at him, they blend in with the rest of his blond hair, looking like nothing more than highlights. I reach out to pick it up. “Is this new?”
“I was wondering when you’d say something.” He smiles. “It began happening a few weeks before I found you.”
“What does it mean?”
“I think it’s my sadness.”
That breaks my heart. “But you’re not sure?”
