Chapter 23
We make the long journey home without anymore trouble.
Everyone has the same level of shock at seeing my transformation, they’re all impressed.
Alrik won’t talk to me, won’t even look at me.
I let him sulk for a bit. If there’s anything I know about Cyredanthem men, it’s that they need time to cool off and process.
This leaves time for Corrik and me as we prepare for our upcoming re-nuptials. I’m excited and it feels good to want to marry him this time with no apprehension. I am Elf now, I have already said goodbye to my old life, I’m ready to move forward into the new.
I continue to converse with my family via the set of books, like Corrik and I did.
I tell Papa everything. He wishes he could be here for our second wedding, but they’d never make it in time.
I consider asking Corrik to wait but don’t.
I’m just as anxious as Corrik is to be married as soon as possible.
If I’ve learned anything over this past year, it’s not to take the present moment for granted.
“You’ve been quiet, Tristan,” Corrik says coming behind up me, nibbling my neck as he does.
I’m at the large table in our quarters reading a book on Elvish laws.
I’m able to savor learning about the aspects of Elven culture I would like to, now that I’ve been given some free time.
“I don’t like this war, Corrik. I’m trying to find something here to convince both my father and yours it can be called off.
” After that, I’ll have Bayaden’s father to worry about, but two problems at a time.
He sighs and shuts my book. “You need to get out of here. You’re free you know, or have you forgotten?”
I sizzle at him, for shutting my book. “I am free, which means I can do what I like and what I would like to do is study every law I can find to outwit our parents.”
He spins my chair around, staring at me, drinking me in. “Okay fine, but what about the other thing on your mind, uh?”
I look at my hands, glance at the door to make sure there are no other ears to listen and then face my first husband, who will soon become my second husband.
“Bayaden found me. We schemed to bring our respective parties home. As it turned out, Alrik had already made that decision, but had he not, I would have done what was necessary.”
“And? Why do you look like you want to throw yourself off a bridge for that?” He moves the hair out of my eyes and tucks it behind one of my new, large, Elven ears—his new favorite thing to do. I wiggle it for him to show affection the way Elves do. I do try to be an Elf sometimes.
“I keep betraying you.”
“Perhaps by your standards, yes. But you haven’t, you’re just being yourself. My Tristan, he’s filled with a deep-rooted sense of justice. You think it’s wrong and you can’t help standing up against it.”
I nod. “We kissed, Corrik. Had there been time, I would have let him do more. I would do it again.”
I’m not as used to this poly thing as others are, but I think …
no I know I am that way. Just like I’m a brat who likes being submissive for Corrik sometimes and someone who could maybe, perhaps see himself subbing for someone who required a deeper kind of submissive.
I’ve come to realize, I wasn’t acting when I did what I did for Alrik that one time before I left. I was responding to Alrik’s energy.
I have many aspects to my sexuality. It’s not a ‘this’ or ‘that’ phenomenon. The Lady of the Lake said I would have at least three men in my life and I know who they are now, I know how each of their energies affects me and I want them all. I don’t want to choose.
But these kinds of relationships weren’t normalized in Markaytia, and I still have some shame over it.
It didn’t help how Corrik was when we first married.
I got the sense that I was to be his one and only, that he would murder anyone who suggested sharing.
Now, I have a clearer distinction between possessiveness and jealousy.
I also understand that while he does mean to keep me for himself, that doesn’t extend to those who are dear to me.
Because Corrik loves me, ardently so, and he can’t resist giving me anything that makes me happy—even if it sometimes takes a little while when he’s worried about my safety—it makes him happy to see me happy.
He sighs. “Did it have to be the Aldrien Warlord, Tristan? We have a perfectly handsome and dominant Warlord here in Mortouge if you like.”
“Zelphar? Ugh. Hard no. And okay yes, he’s my type, but he’s a true arsehole, Cor. I don’t know how Brylee stands him.” Plus, the energy I feel with Zelphar is that of an annoying older brother. It makes me glad I was an only child.
Corrik laughs big and pulls me toward him.
I encircle him with my strong arms. “I can feel him you know? In your hair. I could feel him since the moment you came near. At first, I didn’t know who the Elf was.
As you have now experienced, we can pick up on magic that comes from another Elf, but without knowing who the castor was, we can’t tell who it was.
I had my suspicions, but it wasn’t until you confirmed it for me that I knew that this magical signature belonged to him. ”
“So, every time you touch my hair, you feel him?”
“Yes,” he says like he’s had a bad joke played on him.
It dawns on me. “This wasn’t just a nice gesture, it was also an ownership symbol like marking.”
His eyes delight with something playful.
“It was that but also a few more things. It was a reminder for me, one I’d have to face daily, and accept if I wanted to accept you.
Most importantly, it was a warning—he is in your heart and if I don’t treat you right, he’ll come for you.
That broke me the most because he sensed something in you that spoke to your unhappiness.
He sent you back with a hefty amount of hesitation.
” Tears fall from Corrik’s eyes. “I hated that, and I knew it was true because he made this hair with deep love for you, that’s what makes the spell possible and near unbreakable.
He was worried about you, but despite all that, he sent you back to me because he knew you loved me too. ”
“That wasn’t the only reason, Cor,” I rush in to say, hating seeing the massive Elf cry like this. “His father was going to kill me.”
“Maybe. But he would not have sent you to me knowing he was sending you to a life of misery. He would have shipped you back to Markaytia. He sent you here for you, Tristan.”
Now I’m crying.
“Oh, my darling. It’s okay. It’s really okay. There’s also one more thing it was. This is a thing Elves do with shared partners. Almost … like a fun prank.”
“He pranked you, with my body? If I ever see him again, he’s a dead Elf.”
Thankfully, that makes Corrik laugh, I can’t take his crying—it’s too heartbreaking. “It’s not so bad as it sounds to someone who might be of Markaytian decent. You like being marked, don’t you?” he breathes into my ear.
“Yes.”
“There you go. For you it’s a mark you can wear with pride—he would not have done this if he didn’t know you’d adore it, for me it’s a ‘so there, he’s mine too’.”
“Barbaric Elven behavior is what I call it. By the Gods, you two.”
“Wait until my brother gets involved. It will seem barbaric then.”
“Why would your brother get involved?”
He bites his lip. “Forget I said that. The point is, I’ve long accepted Bayaden. Don’t feel guilt over what you do with him. He loves you and that’s enough for me.”
Part of me wants to follow up with the Alrik comment, and part of me doesn’t at all. Not right now anyway. I leave it. “Why haven’t you marked me in some barbaric way?”
“I have. The location spell, remember? That’s a mark. I know where you go, which is why I knew you were at the healing center more often than you let on.”
“I’ve been a lot less since I’ve become Elf.”
“Do you see me complaining? Plus you heal a lot faster. I’m less concerned.” He nuzzles into my hair.
“It doesn’t bother you to feel him when you do that?”
“No. He made it with his love for you, which could only be possible with your love for him. It still contains your love. It’s still you.”
“Which must mean you can’t kill him either.”
“Correct. Not when you love him so. I’ve always said you are wise.”
“Then you must have known he was in the area and that he would seek me out.”
He kisses down my neck. “Yes.”
I get an idea. “Could the same happen with Alrik?”
“It could, but that depends on him, and before you do what you’re thinking don’t. That’s a dangerous game to play with Elves, my love. Only go to him if you want him too.”
“But it could stop a war, Corrik.”
That draws him up short, and he loses his playful edge. “When will you learn you’re not an item to be traded for peace? And yes, I know I’m guilty of it too, but I should not have done that. No one should have.”
“I made a choice too, Corrik.”
“Maybe, but you had little choice. It was more coercion than choice. You could have run off, but that would have made you a traitor to your homeland.”
“I was upset about the marriage, but I also saw the wisdom in it.”
“Fine then, until you can see the wisdom in what I’m saying I forbid you to go to my brother unless it’s for you. You will not use yourself as a political weapon anymore. No one will. Do you understand me, Tristan?”
“Yes,” I say. “Fine.”
“It’s like that is it?”
“Like whaaa—no! Corrik, put me down.” He slings me over his shoulder and carries me to the bed. It’s annoying as fuck that he can still lift me so easily.
My pants are down too fast and I’m over his knee, squirming and kicking because my arse is set aflame from swat after swat from his hand.
He’s a lot more liberal in that department now that I’m Elf, knowing I’ll heal quickly.
He makes it count, and it hurts so much more than it used to.
My jaw tenses and my face scrunches. “I won’t use myself as a political weapon. I promise!”