Page 99 of A Brat's Tale
“Us?” He nods. “Isn’t this over now? Corrik is back. You only train slaves.”
“Ahhh. That’s what the pouty behavior is all about.” I scowl at him. He ignores me running a hand through my sweaty hair and I can’t help relaxing into his gentle touches. “Do you remember I told you I engraved your name on this paddle?”
I twist my lips. “Yes.”
He shows me. It’s there in perfect Elvish, in pretty Elven script. I’ve never seenTristanwritten in Elvish before. When my name is written formally, it’s usually as Kathir. I touch it and trace it several times with my fingers pressing the pads into the sharp engraving. “Does this mean something, sir?”
“Originally it meant I missed you. I was worried it might be nothing more than a memento of our time together.” My heart clenches. “When I heard of your return, I hoped it could be my first gift to you.”
Oh.Oh.“Are you asking me to be your student?”
Dungeon Masters in Mortouge are permitted to choose a collection of students. They gift them things, like implements and cuffs and other kinky trinkets. I have half a mind to refuse his nasty paddle and ask for something nicer.
He smiles, relieved. “I am. Prince Corrik has already approved it, pending your final blessing. But you should know, Tristan, I also have a teaching role for you in mind as well. I’d like to use you for demonstrations which means I would be learning too. As you know, I specialize in slaves not brats. I was hoping you could help the other brats who come to the school.”
I tilt my head to get a better look at him. I can’t help wondering if he’s joking. “Why me?”
Strobavik blushes and I will forever be telling the story of how I made the chilling dungeon Master blush. “You fascinate me, Tristan and I adore you.”
Now my cheeks heat. “What about my other duties? I am committed to Zelphar every day from sunrise to somewhere in the afternoonifhe lets me go.” I haven’t had my first day, but I know how practice will transpire. I’ll be worked into the ground and I’ll be lucky to get out in time for Elvish high tea.
He waggles his brows and his ears brighten. “If I know you at all—and I think I’ve come to know you a little—as much as you love training, you’ll also need an excuse to leave some days.”
“You can pull rank on Zelphar?” Because that I’d like to see. Seriously, that guy needs taking down a peg or seven.
“No. But both of your Cyredanthem men do and barring something imperative, he’ll be instructed to let you go for the time I need you. It’ll only be up to twice a week.”
Both my Cyredanthem men? Must have been a slip of the tongue. He was training me to be Alrik’s slave-husband-whatever, after all. “What would you teach me? You know I’m not slave.”
“Did you not notice my lack of scolding during that spanking?”
I did squirm a lot. “That was an unfair spanking if you expected silence and stillness. You know I don’t have that kind of endurance, sir.”
“I do. But as I said, it was meant as a spanking more suited for brats. I wanted to show you that’s how I would punish you, with what you’re used to, but I could help you work on finding that bit of submissive we’ve discovered if you become my student. At the same time, you could be a mentor for other brats.”
I like the sound of that. “Corrik can’t help me find my inner submissive?”
“He can and I imagine he will, but submitting is the same as with anything else. Different Elves can show you different aspects and nuances since we’ve all had different experiences. You have beautiful potential Tristan. I could bring that out and it would add to what you and the young prince will create together.”
“All right. I will but on one condition.”
“Tristan.”
I ignore him. “I want to meet D’ayawin. And Erik.”
He rolls his eyes. “You can meet my children.” I’ll ask about his mate or mates later. “Is that a yes?”
“It’s a yes.”
“Good. Hold out your wrist.” I do and he snaps a thick leather cuff around it he’s pulled from his pocket. “This marks you as my student. You may remove it to bathe only. It’s protected with magic—it will be all right to leave on for when you practice.”
It’s black and etched with Elven designs with a large blue jewel, the same color of his eyes, in the center. It saysStrobavik’s Apprentice Sevenin Elvish. “I am number seven?” His eyes turn into slits. “Master Strobavik.” I want to roll my eyes. I don’t.
“You are number seven.”
“I was worried that was our last time together … like that. I’m glad it’s not.”
“We’ll see if you say the same thing come our first lesson. I know of your talents. I will not go easy on you.”
