Chapter 13
CHAPTER 13
H e is tied to two wooden slats that are nailed together in the shape of an ‘X' in the dungeon of the ship, which Corrik conveniently left out of his tour. The Elf is naked and marked with long, red welts over his pale body. The pain he is in does nothing to diminish his triumph—it’s written below the surface of his bruises. I look for the place where Corrik’s large sword should have come through to his front, but I can’t see it and assume he, like Diekin and I, has been healed. He’s thin but muscled and if he weren’t chained to the wooden ‘X,’ I could picture him jumping wall to wall like a spider. I see now that his skin is a shimmering copper, like he’s been out in the sun often. His cock is hard as nails and has a leather ring tied around the base. He moans and mumbles incoherently.
“You will sit here and not say a word while we question him,” Corrik says.
I’ve learned well enough that arguing with him in private is one matter, in public another. All I can do is give him plaintive eyes which he ignores, and sit on the chair in the corner. At least I still have a clear view of the proceedings.
Diekin is here with us, along with the Elven king and a dozen guards. The man is chained up well, why so many guards? The queen moves over to stand beside me. Of course, the weak human is seated while the strong Elves stand. Diekin looks to Corrik, who nods and then walks within the eye line of the Rogue Elf. Diekin says something to him in Elvish. I’m not going to understand a thing.
“He asked his identity,” the queen whispers to me. Corrik looks back with a smug smile and I cross my arms and lean back in my chair.
“Hmmm,” the queen says when the Elf answers back.
“What is it?”
“Well, he was very rude.”
“I’m sure I can handle it,” I say.
“I think in Markaytian the equivalent is ‘fuck you’.”
Did the Queen just say fuck you?
As the interrogation progresses, we learn he is the Rogue Elf, Heilren, sent to kill me. He’s relatively easy to pull information from. Something’s not right about that.
“Please,” the queen translates for me. “I’ll tell you anything you want.”
It’s hard to believe he would betray his own with such little urging, though by the number of welts and bruises, it looks like someone has taken the time to “pre-urge” him.
I become bored and begin to watch Corrik. Something is off about his body language, and I don’t like it. Not only is it terrifying, it’s clear how little trust he has in whatever Heilren is saying. And something else. Corrik looks like he isn’t really here, like his senses are warning him of something unseen.
Suddenly, Corrik’s eyes look up at me. “Mother take him out of here, now! ”
It’s amazing how easy it is for the Elven queen to rip me out of the chair and the room, but before she does, the Rogue Elf’s head snaps up to look straight at me, his eyes glow dark, blue lightning snaps across the irises and the room builds with thunder. I’m just being pulled out the door, when a dark streak of magic storms down, loud, to where I was sitting, leaving ashes where the chair had been.
The queen pulls me into a hug, one she needs more than I do. “Twice in a handful of days is twice too many. What would your parents say if we had to tell them we lost you after such a short period of time having you?”
Corrik blazes out of the dark. “He’s dead.”
C orrik says no more about what happened in the room and I don’t ask. He’s not in a mood to talk to anyone—me at the top of his ‘not-talking-to’ list. I join Corrik in his silence and listen to Diekin who has lots to say.
I should probably be nervous or concerned. My life’s been threatened twice, and the Rogue Elf made it clear his mission was to kill me, but this is an adventure Lucca and I couldn’t dare to dream—I’m far too excited to be nervous.
When the meal ends, Corrik calls on Diekin.
“Say goodnight Diekin and come with me.”
I know that look—Diekin’s in trouble. He knows it too—he’s known it all night—but he stands with grace and does as told. “And you,” Corrik says to me. “You will go with Mother.”
“Yes, Corrik,” I say, but on the inside I want to throttle him. It reminds me too much of getting sent to cross-stitch with my mother—I hope the queen doesn’t cross-stitch. I hate cross-stitching.
To my delight, the queen invites me to her sitting room for tea and I learn that I’m here to be babysat (as I suspected), but also for her own comfort.
“Tell me Tristan, what was it like to grow up in Markaytia?”
“I loved it,” I tell her. I expand about me and Lucca, which I imagine she already overheard from some of my conversations with Diekin, but then go on to tell her a bit of Markaytia’s history.
“Markaytia is an old province. It used to be ruled by dragons until the last dragon died, but before he did, he passed his blood onto a man and that man became Markaytia’s first Warlord. It was his duty to name the first king, a title he gave to his brother. It became tradition to do so from then on. He was an ancestor of mine. I’m named for him,” I say.
“No wonder your name means so much to you Tristan. You must have an Elvish name for the public, but in private, if you like, I shall call you by your Markaytian name.”
“I would like that.”
I tell her more stories of Lucca and I tell her more about the history of my ancestor Tristan the Dragon Warlord . She’s fascinated and I find I like the queen a little more. It will be easy to call her Mother.
“I have enjoyed our time, Tristan, but I fear this day has exhausted even me. I’ll escort you to your chambers now. Corrik should be there.”
Corrik is there. I find him on the bed staring at the ceiling when I enter our bedchamber. He knows I’ve entered, but he doesn’t sit up. I’m not sure what to do—I’ve never seen him like this, and it’s in these moments I realize how much I have to learn about him.
I proceed to get ready for bed not saying a word to him—he can pout all night if he likes, I’m going to bed. Once I’ve washed up, I return to the bedchamber expecting to find him as I’ve left him.
He’s nothing like I’ve left him. Corrik is naked with the covers rolled down, reading a book. The main light is out with a small ball of light hovering above him.
I patter to my side of the bed and hope he’ll leave me alone for the night.
No such luck.
His book snaps closed and the little ball of light floats to hover above the bed so I can still make out his pale form. He turns on me like a predator would his prey. “You and I need to have a little talk.”
I know what his talks are like—I’m sure he just had one with Diekin. I yelp and cocoon the covers around me. Has he found the other item I’ve kept hidden?
“How’s Diekin?” I say trying heartily to change the subject.
“Diekin is well, you may see him tomorrow. I don’t want to talk about him, I want to talk about you and me.”
I swallow. “Yes?”
“Come, here.”
“Corrik—"
He gives me a look that says he’s had enough belligerence from me for one day. I shimmy over to him keeping plenty of blanket wrapped around me. His icy shell cracks and he chuckles. “You aren’t in trouble—we just need to talk, with words,” he defines for me. “Come.”
When I’m within reach of him, he breaks me out of the blanket and presses my naked body to his—his cock up against my ass. Maybe I can convince him to skip the impending lecture I feel headed my way…?
“It took every ounce of my strength not to flay you alive earlier. You can’t make such threats to me; that will be the last.”
I don’t need him to protect me, I’ve been a member of my father’s guard since I was twelve. “Then you must cease to treat me like I’m weak. I’m not your doll.”
“That’s absurd. I know you’re not a doll.”
“Diekin had to be the one to tell me about the Rogue Elves before Heilren attacked me.”
He doesn’t look pleased about that. “You cannot fight an Elf. You’re only—"
“—human. I know. You remind me every chance you get.”
He holds me awhile like he’s simply grateful I’m still alive to hold.
“You can’t protect me at every turn, Corrik. The world is dangerous. I’ve faced certain death many times and I’m sure I’ll face it many more.”
His grip on me gets tighter. “I can protect you and you will not be put in danger like that again. Today wouldn’t have happened if you would have let me do my job as your mate.”
And that is the crux of the matter. He succumbed his logic to my threat on an emotional whim. He didn’t like me forcing his hand in the first place and since it ended badly, he feels justified in never participating in another of my silly tantrums again. I admit that what I did was manipulative, it’s not the kind of behavior I’m fond of employing, but I reacted. I’m not good when I feel trapped. “I’m sorry for what I did Corrik, but you wouldn’t listen—you never listen.”
“I understand things you do not. I don’t have to listen to you—you’re mine and shall do as I say.”
I don’t like it. I’m used to being heard in the least. Even Father, as intractable as he is, listened to what I had to say—even if he did not end up taking my advisement on the matter.
“Corrik, I vowed to obey you and I will, but I need to be heard.”
“If I had explained everything and still forbid your participation, can you say with honesty, that you would have left it at that?”
“Fine, no I wouldn’t have.” And it’s true that Corrik isn’t unreasonable either; unless my safety is at stake, apparently. I sense there’s something else he’s not telling me. “But if you’re a little more forthcoming with information, I can attempt to understand and even behave myself.”
That gets me his signature quarter smile, and he nods. “Some Elves can see the future,” he says.
“As in prophecy? Some Markaytians used to be prophets, back in the time of wizards, before they all died out.”
“Yes, like prophets. Any Elf can have a vision; some Elves will have more visions than others. I have many visions. My first vision told me of you.”
“Me?”
“Yes. I dreamt of marrying a dragon, our marriage was written in prophecy—though I haven’t yet found out if I ever tame him. He’s more misbehaved than I could have fathomed. ”
I elbow him in the ribs. “Teach you for marrying wild animals, now get back to your story.”
“And demanding. It’s still not too late for that spanking you know.”
“Spank me all you want later, just finish the story,” I say, no less demanding.
He knows I’m teasing this time. His hand moves down to massage my cock. “In another vision, you die.” His hand squeezes my cock too hard.
I moan into his ear. “So, you think if you keep me away from every source of danger, your vision won’t come to fruition?”
“Something like that.”
“Don’t you think me not even hearing of danger is going a bit far?”
“With you? No. I’ve got your number, Tristan Kanes. You look for danger because you think it’s an adventure.”
I can’t argue with that. “What’s wrong with liking adventure?”
“Adventure is dangerous. You won’t be having much adventure after this trip is over—get used to it. You’ll be locked away safe in Mortouge where nothing can harm you.”
“Will I have my own tower? Will I have to grow my hair like that girl in the children’s fairytale?”
“Do not tempt me,” he says, with a smile in his voice. He’s still massaging my cock. “And I do like your hair long—you are never to cut it.”
He’s lucky I love my hair too. I’d never cut it. “Are we done talking now? I can put my mouth to far better uses.”
“What happened to your Markaytian sensibilities?”
“I’m not Markaytian anymore, am I?”
“Technically, I suppose not, but I’m learning there’s no way to take away the dragon in your blood and so a piece of Markaytia you shall always remain.” It means a lot to me. It’s Corrik’s way of apologizing for his fractious nature. “All right. I’m done lecturing you. ”
“You think I don’t know when you’re lecturing me, but I always know.”
“I didn’t think I was making it secret,” he says and moves his hand to my nipples, squeezing each one hard as his other hand massages my arse. I don’t want him to stop, but I want to look at him more, so I turn around. Besides, if he continues like that, I won’t be able to concentrate on what he’s saying. Suddenly, he pounces on me and towers over top. He nips at my neck sending shivers through my body. I push my hips up trying to join my cock with his. His lips press to mine in a deep kiss. When he pulls away, his eyes are softer and resemble lilac more than their usual dark, cold violet. He’s changed a little, and it’s because of my near death. Twice.
Tomorrow he will be an over-protective maniac, but today, no matter what I do, he can’t find the will to stay angry with me.
Our sex is tender. The animal in Corrik is barely present, only for a few sharp thrusts at the end, and I would call it love making, if I loved Corrik.
But I don’t.