Page 58 of A Brat's Tale
“But he was so cold before I left. After Corrik and I were betrothed, he wanted nothing to do with me.”
“That’s not true, Tristan. He was struggling and ended up steeling himself against you to avoid displaying his emotions. Arcade didn’twant me to tell you, because he was disappointed in himself for having such feelings, but he didn’t want you to go. He knew you had to, that you had a duty to Markaytia, and he didn’t want to make things harder for you by telling you.”
“I wish he had. I thought he was angry with me. What changed?”
“You are here now, he had to accept it at some point. He has respect for the duties the Gods have placed before you.”
The week goes by quickly and my parents have to be on their way. They come up to say goodbye and I want to go with them, but I don’t say it, trying to emulate Father. If he could keep silent and perform his duty to me, I can do the same for them. But my heart aches for so many reasons. “Your father has many duties, but we will attempt to return next year if you cannot come to the wedding,” Papa says. “And Tristan, I know it didn’t happen under the best of circumstances, but since it is, I’m glad the babe will come sooner.”
I knew he would be glad. Papa wouldn’t have been alive for my first child, which is hard to think about, had we to wait until Corrik reached his three hundredth birthday. This way we’ll have a child born in this lifetime. For that reason, I’m happy it worked out this way too.
“As for your father, mention the idea again and watch his eyes—they give him away.”
I decide to try it when I’m saying goodbye to him. I get another hug from Father. “You are still Warlord inside, and you make our people proud.”
“If we have a boy, I’ll make sure he gets your name somewhere.”
I see what Papa means; his eyes do betray him—he’s fucking delighted. “You know,” he says trying to maintain stone, but failing like I’ve never seen him. “Arcadia would be nice for a girl too.”
Oh, Gods. My father with a baby granddaughter. I might have to see that. I spend a good number of hours that night seeing if there’s a way to influence the sex of an Elven baby with magic.
Father’s words stay with me for months. I am not becoming an Elf for me or Corrik, but for Markaytia. I delve into my studies and do little else. Corrik spends time with me, but he finds me reading or writing essays for Cupper (one of my professors) in Elvish. Finally pleased enough with my accent, Corrik no longer speaks to me in Markaytian. It’s not perfect, but it’s good enough to pass exams; some words that come out in the Aldrien accent, my brain refuses to let go of.
“Come to bed, Tristan,” he says one night.
I purse my lips. “Yes. One more chapter and I’ll be there.”
“No.Now.Put the book down.”
“Corrik, I have to get this done.”
“You are further ahead than anyone thought you would be, especially you. What you need now is sleep. Book down, or I come get you.”
If he comes to get me, that will automatically mean spanking. I snap the book shut, leaving it on the table and stomp toward the bed. I remove my robe, letting it fall to the floor and get in the bed, staying far away from Corrik. He doesn’t stay far away from me. He gets closer to me; I move further away from him. “Kathir.”
“You wanted me to sleep, I’m here to sleep. Not have sex. Goodnight.”
“I wasn’t going to try, I meant it when I said you need the sleep. The pouting is unnecessary.”
When I still don’t answer him, he moves too quickly to the other side of our bed and I bolt right up because I know what that means. “Okay, I’m sorry. I’m being a fucking brat. Come back, Corrik.”
But he’s already got the paddle in his hand. “Lay on your stomach, head on your arms.”
He remembers, too well, how much better I was after the strapping from Father and has since, employed such methods often when I’m out of sorts. I obey him, protesting little and I make a mental note that I must be riled since I employ token histrionics on principle. Corrik starts in hard and it’s not long before he has me panting and my arselit up with the fire from a good spanking. I start crying but crying during a spanking is seldom from pain. And this spanking isn’t much compared to some I’ve had. I’m releasing pent up emotion.
When it’s over, I’m sobbing and he’s rubbing my back. “Shhhh, there now. You’ve been working yourself into the ground. Time to take a break. There will be no lessons tomorrow.”
That freaks me out. “But Corrik, I can’t lose a whole day, that will put me behind a week.Please.”
“It will not put you behind a week.” He pulls me into his arms, and I go, latching onto him. “Diekin can come. He’ll stay the whole day. You two have leave to do whatever you want.”
So long as it’s not leaving this room.I know he’ll be angry at me for asking, but I ask anyway. “Cor, please. Can’t you take me somewhere…? Surely it’s unlikely Andothair’s going to come tomorrow and snatch me away.”
I wait for his anger, but he’s quiet instead. “Children have been going missing in the villages surrounding Mortouge.”
“And you think it’s Andothair?”
“Yes. If they can steal our children without a trace, they can steal you. I’m not taking any chances.”
