Page 54 of A Brat's Tale
Corrik hugs me, and I grip him tightly.
He also helps me brush out my long hair as I fret over it. “What if Father doesn’t like the blue and purple? Accch, who am I kidding? He’s going to hate it.”
Corrik waves his hand over my hair, the purple and blue vanish, leaving only the black. “Better?”
I tear up. It’s like Bayaden has left me, even though I still feel his magical essence. “No. I want it back, Corrik.”
He brings it back. “It was never gone. I can’t get rid of it,” he says somewhat annoyed about that fact. “I can only create an illusion over it.”
“I’ll take my chances.” I can’t bear to see the color gone.
He rolls his eyes at me.
When I’m dressed, I do look nice, but the clothes are confining. The fabric is white with finely detailed silver embroidery, and rises halfway up my neck, open in the center. The sleeves are long, and the garment reaches past my hips, to show off the black, cropped pants and tall boots. The look is finished with a soft green cape and a wide, silver, neckpiece, which hangs down on my chest and spans my collar bone.
Even though most of my neck is covered, it feels bare withoutBayaden’s collar. I left it for him under his pillow. I don’t know if he’ll bother to keep it. He has a new husband to think of, but I needed to give him something and it was all I had, which technically wasn’t mine anyway. It was Bayaden’s to give; it was a display of his ownership over me.
I’m happy with how I look though. Corrik places a thin crown on my head. “When you become Elf, there will be a ceremony for you, and you will have another crown. But you are still a prince, and this is your temporary crown.” I recognize it from our wedding. I doubt it’s the same one. I’m sure most things were lost on the ship, but it’s a replica.
I do look good, even if I don’t feel like myself—I am more comfortable in simple things—but when Corrik comes into the library (where he sent me to stop me running around cleaning and dirtying up my clothes), I know I pale in comparison. He’s put his white outfit on, his signature one, with the gold trim and open jacket to display his chiseled abs. His long, gold hair with streaks of white, is brushed until it flows, and he tops the look with his crown.
“You’re stunning, Corrik.” It’s an odd thing to miss one man so completely while being genuinely enchanted with another. I never thought I’d be the man in love with two men, but here I am. “We ready to do this?”
“I don’t know that I’ll ever be ready to recount the story of how I lost you, but it must be done.”
“It wasn’t your fault, Corrik,” I try again.
“It was.” He moves the hair from my face. “I am having a hard time forgiving myself, but last night was good. I am feeling hopeful that we can move past this.”
He bends down to kiss me; it makes my heart race and my body heat, and I think that we can move past this too.
Chapter 12
It’s the most people our chambers have seen since I arrived. The king and queen enter first and sit at the head of the long dining table. When my parents enter, time stops for me. Father is there in the flesh, and I can hardly believe I’m seeing him with my eyes. His long hair is greyer than when I last saw him, but it does not diminish his stature and he’s every bit as menacing as I remember him.
And I didn’t know it before, but I feel it now; there is something Father brings me that I was unaware of—comfort and grounding. I want to go to him and feel it, but that would be inappropriate at this juncture.
Then Papa walks in. He’s much better than I last remember him when we said goodbye. He looks healthy and fit, but his eyes flood with tears when he sees me and I know he’d like nothing better than to take me in his arms, but that will have to wait.
Father strides over to me, setting his helmet down on the table, beginning his inspection of me. “Tristan, were you harmed in any way?” Wow, he’s more concerned than I’ve ever seen him.
I have to think about that. Was I harmed in any way? The trip down memory lane has me smiling. There were plenty of timesBayaden caused pain to my backside—so many spankings—but never harm. “No, sir. It wasn’t like that. Everything was fine.”
That was the wrong thing to say. “Has he been hexed? Someone tell me.Now.”
The entire room flinches.
“I haven’t been hexed, Father.”
“You and I are going to have our conversation,” he promises in a voice I recall from my youth. I don’t look forward to that conversation. “For now, I want answers. I want to know why my son was taken.”
Father is not Arcade Kanes, calm and collected brother of the king, right now. He’s Father Warlord whose offspring was threatened. He goes full dragon parent. If Corrik thought he was protective, he’s about to learn a whole new definition of protection. Corrik steps up. “It was my fault, sir. I am his husband and the responsibility fell to me to keep him safe.”
“I have half a mind to call this whole thing off, I still might.”
Can he do that?By the look in his eyes, I’m going withhe’ll find a way.
“Sir, I assure you, we’ve taken extreme measures to ensure his safety,” Corrik says.
