Page 6 of A Brat's Tale
“There, that’s how a proper boy should laugh.”
The baths in Markaytia were large as pools, and the staff always kept them filled with fresh water. I jumped in, the mud spreading all around me. “Over here, please,” Papa said. I swam over to him so he could scrub me down.When he was done, he was wet and dirty, and as it turned out, this was what tipped Father off.When I was towel-dried, I was sent away with a pat to my bare bum, in the direction of my small bedroom in the barracks.
That’s when Father returned. “Eagar! You here?”
I froze. It was time to face the music. Papa didn’t spank me, but Father would, and I knew then, maybe he’d spank Papa too. Poor Papa’s shirt—totally ruined and muddy beyond repair, the water from my bath having trailed the mud everywhere, making him look just as muddy as I had been.
At that moment, the look in Father’s eyes—I remember it well.Now I know what it meant.Papa knew he was going to get scolded, and I’ve been learning from my time in Aldrien what that does to ones like me and ones like Papa. We can’t bear the disappointment.
Father set eyes on me and then glared daggers at Papa. “Explain, Eagar.”
The trouble Papa got into was my fault, at least I thought so then, so I cut in. “Lucca an’ I stole pies. We ate them in the pig pen—it’s not Papa’s fault.”
“Yet he’s the one who looks like he’s been rolling in a pig pen,” Father roared.
I backed against Papa’s leg and then reached up for Papa to lift me—yes, after all that fuss over being carried. He scooped me up, shielding me from Father’s ire. “Arcade, I was just about to clean myself up. I had to get Tristan settled, you see—"
“I can see it very well, thank you. Take the boy back where he belongs. I need you today.”
“But, Arcade, I thought you had business out of town?”
“That business has changed. Go, now. Come right back.”
Despite Papa’s respect for Father’s command, and the scolding we both knew he was going to get, I got the distinct impression that Papa wanted to pummel Father. “I just got him, Arcade. Can’t we visit? Just for an hour.”Papa would plead, but he would never disregard Father.
“No. Is taking him back going to be a problem for you? I could get one of the men to do it.”
“That won’t be necessary. I’ll take him to his mother.” Papa wasn’t going to win the argument, but he was going to have some time with me, one way or the other.
“Good, but you won’t go anywhere like that. Change first.”
“Yes, sir.”
On and off the field, Papa called Father “sir.” I didn’t think anything of it at the time, but now I understand its real meaning.
When Papa brought me back to Mother, she was only mildly surprised to see me. I’ve always loved Mother a lot, but when I was a little boy, hanging out with her wasn’t fun. She often made me cross-stitch. Six-year-old me liked swords and violence; cross-stitching was a major snooze. “I’m sorry, Olivia. I know I was meant to have him for the afternoon, but Arcade said I had to bring him back.”
A sentence like that meant nothing to me then. It was the kind of thing I was used to hearing.But I get it now. Papa had a responsibilityto Father beyond that of a standard Markaytian marriage. With Elves, everyone has a designation based on their unique energy, from super dominant to super submissive. It’s a spectrum.
Whatever Papa was, Mother knew.
“It’s all right, Eagar,” she said.
“It’s not. What if you had things to do? Arcade can’t expect you to drop whatever you had planned to look after him.”
“You know he can. That’s my role. I knew when I agreed to bear Arcade Kanes an heir, that my first responsibility would be Tristan, day or night.”
I hated being talked about like I was a chore, but I knew I wasn’t, not really. Father and Eagar were a married couple; Mother’s only involvement was me. She was always treated with respect. The palace pays handsomely forMothers, and her relationship with me was important, but she was not part of their relationship romantically. It was always clear that she was meant to look after me when they could not. Mother didn’t mind that, though. She volunteered to have me because she wanted a child; she loved me dearly. She liked not having a partner to answer to—Mother had always been a free spirit. She detested travel when it involved staying in the forest rather than Inns, but she was an active socialite and loved to visit other towns. Her social calendar was limited when I was little, but as I grew so did the engagements. She vowed to keep things that way until I was fully grown, and she could meet someone who could keep up with her.
Besides, she had just as much parental say as Papa, even though Father always had the final word on Tristan. This was understood from the outset, and she was all right with it. “Your father is a good man,” she’d say most of the time. She would make jokes with me and there were times I know she wished Father would let up a bit, but overall, she supported his decisions. “You’d do well to heed him, my child.”
I knew Mother would make me cross-stitch as punishment once she made me tell her what I’d done. I begged Papa not to go. I wanted to stay with him. He put his forehead against mine. “Papa has to help Father,” he said.
“Can’t you help him, later? I just got to see you.”
“We’ll see what your father says, little man,” he said to me and I couldn’t help but think I’d ruined our time together. Mother jumped in to save poor Papa, who I know must have been feeling bad about having to part with me so soon.
“We’ll see about tomorrow young man,” Mother said, taking pouty, little me from his arms. “I’ve had an enlightening conversation with your aunt—is there something you want to tell me about pies?”
