Chapter 11 #2
It’s freezing, especially compared to what I’m used to—nights so hot you don’t need covers, the warm sandstone under my bare feet when they hit the ground, as I’d prepare to head off and fetch Bayaden’s breakfast. Corrik thought to leave me a warm robe and slippers.
I climb out of bed and dress warmly, thinking I’ll head off in search of food.
My stomach is already growling. I don’t know the rules of this place, but if I catch it for breaking one of them, at least the spanking I’d get for it will be worth it.
When I tug on the door, I find it locked.
I start yanking, pulling with all my might to no avail.
I bang on the door, shouting until my voice is hoarse, but no one comes.
When Corrik dares to show his cowardly face, I’m sitting at the long table, furious.
“What is the meaning of this, Corrik Cyredanthem?”
He’s ready for me though, and I realize it’s for this moment he’s been preparing—while we traveled and even last night—steeling himself for when I would take him on not as Tristan, but as Warlord. “I understand this will be hard for you, but soon you’ll come to see it was the right choice.”
“What is the right choice, Corrik? Making me prisoner?”
“You are not a prisoner. This is your home.”
“Last night you said this could not be my home. I’ve not been here a day.”
“I was upset. This is your home and I am your husband. I will make the choices right for us and this is what’s right for your safety and my peace of mind.
You will remain in this room, under lock and key until you are ready to become Elf.
When you are, you will be strong enough to combat another Elf.
Right now, you are too weak and fragile. You must be protected at all costs.”
I don’t agree with him, but he’s completely convinced himself that this is needed. I don’t dare mention how much training I’ve had with Bayaden. It’s not the time and that time may never come. “Corrik, please. Whatever you’re thinking, can’t we talk about it? There must be another solution.”
“I’ve had a lot of time to think about a great many solutions.
There is no other solution. Not to worry, everything is set up.
You’ll begin lessons with approved and vetted instructors, and we’ll have you ready to pass the tests as soon as possible.
I’m certain within a year, Father will approve you and we can take you to the place where you can become Elf. ”
“And what if I’m not ready in a year?” I know that to an Elf, a year is a blink, but I am still human, and a year locked in a room seems like forever.
Besides, how am I to know that will be enough for him?
It may never be enough. There will always be some new thing around the corner, ready to get me, as far as my husband is concerned.
“Then you stay here until you are. But not to worry, you will be ready. I’ll make sure,” he says, smiling with true encouragement.
Last night suddenly makes a lot of sense. No wonder he was hellbent on all the lessons. The sooner I begin, the sooner I can become Elf. “Corrik, I understand you’re afraid—”
“—no you don’t understand,” he shouts. “You don’t, or you would not be arguing with me.”
Maybe he’s right about that much. I don’t understand what he’s going through, or what he went through but when I look closer, I see how much one year of me gone has weighed on him.
Elves age slowly. He’s been off looking for me, worrying and the truth is, I haven’t.
I mourned our relationship and moved on.
I kept Corrik in my heart, but I believed I would never see him again and as much as I can be a drama queen, I’m pragmatic too.
Corrik never gave up, he had faith in us I didn’t have.
He suffered worrying about me while I believed he’d be just fine.
I was wrong and now I’ve aged the ageless.
“Father had a guard for me. What about something like that?” I suggest.
“So, you can evade them like you and your cousin did?” Why, oh why, did I tell him about that? “No. You will stay here. You’ll be busy anyway. You have much to learn in a short period of time.”
These are all things he’s told himself to feel better about this. He knows what this will do to me. “What’s the longest it’s taken for someone to become Elf?”
He doesn’t want to answer that. “You are intelligent, you already know Elvish—even if I do not care for your accent—and that makes up half the requirements. I have no doubt my mate will exceed expectations.”
“How long, Corrik?”
“Ten years.”
“What if it takes me ten years?”
“Then you will remain here ten years. Once you are Elf, ten years won’t matter. In time, you’ll see this was best for us. We’ll ride through the mountains on horseback, rejoicing what we’ve overcome. You’ll see.”
He believes that, but there’s something he doesn’t understand. “You cannot cage a dragon, Corrik.”
“Watch me.” His eyes are a pure challenge, daring me to say something about it, and his ears poise themselves for battle, but I remain quiet with the hope that I can talk him out of this over a few days.
Maybe once I’m here for a bit, he will thaw.
When he’s sure I’m not going to say anything, he continues.
“I knew you weren’t going to take this well, at first.” At first?
Does he really believe I’ll accept this?
“So, I came up with everything I could to make you comfortable. You can call for whatever you want, no matter how outlandish and it will be provided for you. There are several rooms within these chambers, you have access to all of them. You’ll even get to keep your sword.
I’ll admit that I would prefer you don’t have it, but Father will not budge on that point, especially after what happened.
He insists you be allowed to practice with it. One of the rooms is just for that.”
He begins to talk animatedly, going on and on about all the wonderful attributes my prison will have, but I’m not the least bit interested.
I cross my arms and wait for him to finish.
“I even … Tristan, I knew you might not look upon me with favor after this, I have been taking care to exercise respect by not taking you like I want to. You don’t know how badly I want to pull you into my arms. I ache for you, but I can wait until you are ready. ”
“You don’t have to wait. Give up on this foolishness and we can have sex right now. Or cuddle or make out, anything, but please don’t do this, Corrik,” I say giving up on anger, tears flooding my eyes.
It is affecting him, but it does not move him. “This will be hard for both of us, but it’s for the best. You’ll see.”
“I disagree.”
“When we have a child, won’t you want what’s best for the child, even if it’s something he doesn’t want?”
“I am not a child, Corrik. I’m an adult, and I don’t deserve to be locked up in a room.”
“You don’t deserve it, this isn’t about deserving, it’s about safety.”
“Then how about the palace? I would feel far less confined if I could at least have free reign of the palace Corrik.”
“Did you not see the size of this place? Forget it. It’s too open like the ship was. It’s much safer here. When you’re Elf, you may have free run of the palace.”
I don’t like the way he says that. “You don’t ever plan to give me all liberties, do you?
” I expected that to some degree. Even as the son of the Warlord, I was confined in some ways and it would have continued when I became Warlord.
My father never went far without a full guard.
Warlords are always wanted, but my father could come and go as he pleased and that was the difference.
“You are an Elven prince now, Tristan and aside from that, there’s the prophecy to worry about.”
I barely hear him anymore, I’m too angry about it all.
“And I know this is not the best time to bring it up, but I feel it’s become more urgent for us to have a child. I have been given special permission considering the circumstances.”
“A child?” That reminds me of Bayaden’s green babies for a moment and I almost smile. “We can’t possibly bring a child into this mess, because it is a fucking mess, Corrik.”
“On that we can agree, but a child would strengthen the treaty with Markaytia and demonstrate our loyalty. Your father was not impressed we lost you. As we scoured one side of where Aldrien was supposed to be, he and your papa scoured the other. We sent word that we found you, but that wasn’t enough.
They will be here in a fortnight to see you with their own eyes.
Talk of a child is good fortune, Tristan.
” He speaks softly, and with the weight of a person struggling with a great many things with no relief in sight.
I almost feel sorry for him and I know he’s right about this.
I sigh. I hate fucking politics. “Yes. A child will strengthen that pact.” And I know how my father thinks.
He will want to see some formal show of alliance.
It’s not uncommon for the spouse in an arranged marriage to “go missing,” leaving the treaty intact, but without the obligation to the missing spouse, and the other is free again to make another treaty over a second marriage.
As much as Father and I don’t always see eye to eye, he cares about me and wouldn’t want to see me used like that.
Speaking of my father, fuck. He’s on his way here. Why do I feel like a little boy in trouble all over again? Knowing my father, he’s simply coming all this way to scold me for getting abducted.
“Then we agree on that much?”
“We do.” Ugh, though. Thinking about having a child to cart around with me, is overwhelming because we all know who will be expected to look after it.
This is another thing we’ll have to discuss.
Am I to look after the child in this room?
One thing at a time, Tristan. “What are the rules other than don’t leave this room? ”
“No other rules.”