Chapter 18
CHAPTER 18
I jump up out of bed ready for battle.
I’m panting and looking around for a weapon—anything. No more talking. I’ll try to take a stab at the arrogant prick and maybe that will convince him to kill me or be gone. I won’t cry for help. That won’t be my dying breath.
I look around wildly, but the room is empty. He’s gone.
Wait, not empty. Corrik is beside me. He’s up in a flash having heard me stir. He’s naked, nothing but his long golden hair to cover his pale flesh.
“Tristan?”
“Huh? Corrik?”
“Yes, it’s only me. I’m sorry to have scared you.”
I want to tell him he didn’t scare me, but him thinking that will work to my advantage.
“It’s all right,” I say and calm my breath enough to offer him a warm smile. Maybe it was all some bizarre dream. I was pretty horny last night. Can that affect the brain?
“You’re back,” I breathe and realize I’m happy to see him.
He nods. “I’m back. ”
I pounce him. I’ve missed him. And I’m a closet cuddler. I wrap myself around his body and let him secure me in his arms. “Am I forgiven yet, Corrik?”
“I forgave you days ago,” he says. “I can’t seem to stay mad at you, you’re the antidote to my temper.”
I smile and close my eyes, basking in this moment. I feel content and like maybe I’ve got a lot to look forward to.
W e shower together, but it’s quiet. There’s a new tension between us. I’m not sure how to act. In bed, everything makes sense, but outside of that, I’m unsure. Should I be the submissive, kneeling man from the past two evenings? Or am I allowed to be Tristan as I am?
I tease him by running hands through my hair and down my body, accentuating my hardened appendage by sticking my arse out and grazing my groin, without touching my cock. Corrik is always hard. His hips jump at my seductive little dance, and he bites his bottom lip. Aggressively, he turns me around and teases my pucker with his finger before kneeling and jamming his tongue in as far as it will go. I slap the wall with my hand and moan into the sensation.
“You like that?”
“Mmmhmmm, yes, Corrik.”
He presses a finger into my wet hole; it’s slick with lube—I swear Elves must have the stuff tucked into every crevice they inhabit. Not that I’m complaining. The burn feels good and makes me stick my arse out greedy for more. I hope he’ll grab my cock, but I don’t ask; he’ll give me what he chooses and not a thing more.
He nibbles on my ear. “That’s it my Tristan, fuck my fingers, ride them until you come.”
I do as Corrik says and push back hungry, fucking his fingers until he slaps my arse hard, and I do come in hot spurts over the marbled wall without him ever having to touch my cock .
I don’t take time to bask in the afterglow of my orgasm, and I don’t move without his permission. “May I suck your cock, Corrik?”
“Yessss,” he says.
I get on my knees and swallow him whole, the hot spray of the shower washing over the pair of us.
“ Y ou are free,” he tells me, after we’re dried and dressed.
“Free?”
“Yes. A dragon can only be caged so long, I know this,” he says, giving me a rare smile. Corrik is actually teasing me, which means I’m rubbing off on him. “But you’ll remember our lessons during this time, yes?”
I’m not sure what he means by that. Am I to be kneeling by his side from this point forward? I don’t want to ask and look stupid, so I don’t. “Yes, Corrik. Corrik?” I decide to change the subject.
“Yes?”
“Do the Rogue Elves have a prince?”
His face clouds over. “They have a few princes, and one of them is their Warlord. Why do you ask?
“I had a strange dream last night,” I tell him, and for a brief moment I feel the ghost of the Rogue Elf’s strong lips on mine. My possessive husband would not like that. It would send him into an angry fit. “I dreamt a Rogue Elf Prince came to visit me.”
“As long as his name wasn’t Andothair Tar Jian, you’ll be fine,” he says.
Except it was . Icy cold shivers run up my arms and down my spine. If it was a dream, how would I know his name? It isn’t a name my mind could invent. I should tell Corrik.
“What happened in the dream?”
“He said he was going to take me away from you.”
I expect him to look vexed, but instead he’s touched. “At least you want me in your dreams,” he says, pleased .
But it wasn’t about him, not really. I allow him to continue thinking it. I shake my head at him, trying to cover what’s plaguing my mind: Ando. He’s real, he was in my room last night and he’s up to something. I’ll tell Corrik as soon as I find out what that might be. If I tell him now, he’ll be a nightmare to deal with and I can’t spend another day confined to this room.
Thankfully, my stomach is my savior, growling loud enough for Corrik to hear. “By Ylor, that stomach of yours,” he says.
“Is it an inconvenience, Corrik?”
“Never, love. Never. Come along, I enjoy keeping you fed.”
W e are alone in the dining room this morning. “Where is everyone, Corrik?”
“I asked them not to be here when we arrived.”
“Why would you do such a thing?”
His eyes point meaningfully toward a pillow at the foot of his chair.
“Kneel.”
“Corrik.”
“I could spank you instead. This room isn’t private, maybe we’ll put on a show for people after all?”
I clench my trembling fists.
Corrik takes one of my fists into one of his large hands.“I am teasing, my heart.I thought this would ease you into our world.You are so fierce; I forget how vulnerable your submissive side can be.I apologize.”
I relax and raise a brow.“Did you just apologize?I might die of shock.”
He runs a hand through my silky hair.“You inspire me.”
“A mere human, inspiring an Elf?I don’t believe it.”
“You must possess all the world’s magic.” He tilts my chin up and we kiss. His soft lips press to mine, his tongue slides in and for an eternity, I’m gone.“Will you kneel for me, my darling?”
It takes me a few breaths to recover from that kiss.“Mmmhmmm,” I murmur. I sink to the pillow.
“Good, boy.”
Good Gods.Why does that affect me so?I growl when he offers food toward me with his hand. Really, Corrik?I’m not sure I like this.
“Eat,” he insists. My stomach groans—I’m too hungry to put up much of a protest, ruled by my hunger as usual. I take the piece of meat from his hand, giving it a try but not without some irritation.
Distracted by annoyance, it’s not until halfway through the meal, I realize my cock is hard. Corrik hasn’t said to kneel any particular way, but already my body has arranged itself to resemble what he taught me over the past two evenings.
My wrists are clasped in each hand behind my back and my toes are tucked beneath me, the toe pads pressed into the ground. Corrik can sense my hard on like a lion senses meat.
The next food from his hand is not easy to come by. He pulls it upward through the air and makes me chase it with my mouth. It’s humiliating, but of course my cock responds by twitching, liking it. Pervy bastard my cock is. I moan when Corrik rubs behind my ear as I finish chewing my prize: the meat I snatched out of the air.
He bends his head down to kiss me hot and teasing then pulls away as I’m left squirming on the pillow, trying to calm my stupid erection. Corrik is smiling. The man never smiles but he does now, and I can see how beautiful he truly is. I suppose I don’t mind eating from a pillow if it can make him that happy. I just wish I didn’t like it so much.
He spends the rest of our breakfast feeding me, but not talking, yet stealing glances at me like he must be secretive about it. He hasn’t said I’m not supposed to talk, but I understand that I’m not. I decide to anyway—I’m a disobedient “pet.”
“There’s no one here. If you wish to look upon my grand beauty, you may.” I pretend I’m the one in charge .
His hand cinches my hair, a physical warning to behave and remind me I’m not the one in charge. “You are a brat, my love. It’s fine now, but I’m practicing . It’s not becoming for one of the royal court to spend too much time staring at his mate, but you fascinate me—I can’t seem to stop looking at you. I can already hear my brother’s lectures.”
His brother, eh? I decide to be more insolent and pursue it. Bravery, fueled by the new comfort that has settled between us, has hold of me this morning. When his grip on my hair relaxes, I get up and move toward him, he pushes his chair out from the table and I straddle myself across his lap. “And what if we did this? What would your brother say?”
He breathes in my scent and sucks at my ear. “He’d say nothing. This would be okay.” His lips smirk against mine. I pull away.
“You can’t look at me, but I can straddle your lap and fondle you as I please?”
Corrik’s glowing with happiness, I’ve never seen the man smile so much. What is with him this morning?
He nods. “Particular behaviors are expected in each position. Whenever I instruct you to kneel before me, we are both expected to act formally and respect each other accordingly. Once I dismiss you,” he says pointedly because he has not yet dismissed me, “the formal contract is broken. We are free to be open.” I’m sure he can see my spinning thoughts. “Do not worry, D’orhai. I will teach you. We’ll learn together.” He places a soft kiss on my lips.
“Diekin says you and your brother don’t get along.”
Whatever spell he’s under this morning is broken and his smile vanishes. “Diekin often exaggerates,” he says, shaking his head. “But, yes, my brother is often displeased with me.”
“I find that hard to imagine.”
“You won’t have to imagine for long. We are nearly home. Just a few more weeks north after we dock.”
“Home? Corrik, have we reached Mortouge so soon?”
“Soon? We’ve been traveling weeks. ”
“Still, it seems like we left yesterday,” I say and as soon as the words leave my mouth, I realize what I’ve said.
“Have I been that entertaining?” Corrik smirks like he’s won the prize of all prizes and he knows I won’t like it.
I take advantage of the uncharacteristically playful mood I find my Elf in today. “No. It’s been quite exhausting looking after your cock day after day.”
“Hogwash. You said, and I quote, ‘it seems like we left yesterday.’” He attempts an impression of me. “I think you like living with me.”
“It has its moments,” I say.
He looks at me a long time, like he’s trying to read my mind and is frustrated because he can’t. There is real fear present in what he’s about to share. “Tristan, do you think you could ever love me? I’ve shown you some of who I am, who I really am, and what I mean us to be. Could you love a creature like me? I know I’ll never deserve you. I know I took you away from your family. I know I bar you from the destiny you wanted. I’ve no right to ask you to love me, but I still want it.”
The Elf is in pain and he’s babbling. I want to make him feel better, and tell him I love him, but I don’t know. I’ve come to care for him a great deal, but only the Gods know what the future will bring. I brush the shimmery gold hair out of his violet eyes and kiss his forehead. “I shouldn’t even like you after what you’ve done, but I find it harder every day to hold that against you. But love? I’d say that it’s not impossible now. I already care for you a great deal, Corrik Cyredanthem.”
His smile returns, brighter than I’ve ever seen it. He sighs, contented. “If that is all you ever give me, I can live with that. I love you, Tristan, no matter what. Never doubt it.” He presses his thumb to my lower lip and peels it down, I move toward him, and we meet in a wild kiss that sends my groin pressing into his belly.
We’re interrupted by a knock at the door.
“Enter. ”
“Prince Corrik, your father has requested your presence immediately. There’s been another attack on the top deck.”
Impossible, the ship was searched several times over. No. Not impossible—I remember the dream that was maybe not a dream.
The prince and I both look at each other. I wonder if he’ll leave me here with a babysitter and he wonders if I’ll argue.
“Have they apprehended the criminal?”
“He is dead, Sire, but we do not yet know if there are others.”
“Come along then, Tristan,” he says, pushing me off his lap. “You’re not leaving my sight.”
I can barely believe he’s going to take me with him. I stay close, grab his hand and together we rush headlong into whatever we’re about to meet.
“ H ow do they keep getting on board?” Corrik growls and slams his hand on the table at the row of guards before him. They are his royal guard. Diekin is not among them.
“We don’t know, Sire,” says a large male Elf with black hair.
“Well, find out!”
The Elf scurries out with six others behind him and Corrik is left glaring at the wall, immobile as a statue. I’m the only one brave enough to approach him.
“Corrik—”
He whips around, fury burning through him, his body coiled with restraint.
“Take him away,” he shouts at the remaining guards and it’s my turn to glower. I struggle in vain as two guards grab me roughly.
I know better than to say anything in front of everyone, but I make my feelings clear enough without a word. He’s locking me up again. I wonder if Ando would lock me up? Probably.
“Corrik, wait,” the king says. He hasn’t spoken in all the time Corrik raged over the events of this morning. At the king’s words the guards freeze, but they still hold me tight.
“I know they have killed Emmery, this is grievous, but we cannot lose our heads. You cannot simply lock up your husband—the time has come for him to be armed.”
“No.”
“I have been far too lenient if you think you may tell me, no,” the king says, letting his words fall upon Corrik, daring him to say more. He doesn’t.
“Good then. Tristan. Come before me.”
The guards release me, and I go to kneel before the king. Even when Corrik is acting like a bull-headed arse, I still desire to make him proud of me.
“Purinettira—pass me that over there.”
The queen produces something long and wrapped in layers of purple, silken cloth; she hands it to the king. I check in with Corrik; yep, he’s still burning with unleashed rage, better to keep focused on the king’s boots and whatever he’s got wrapped in that cloth. Although I think if he gave me three guesses, I’d get it on the first try.
“You come from dragon’s blood, and you have trained all your life to be a warrior. Be that as it may, a Markaytian is defenseless against an Elf and that is why I had this made. This is for you.”
Before me, he unveils a sword like I have never seen before. Forged with Elven magic, the blade glistens without the help of sunlight and upon its surface are words written in Elvish.
“He who wields this blade…”
I make out but cannot read the rest; I’ll have to consult with Cupper’s book. The hilt and cross guard are simple in design but made of fine Elven gold and steel. The pommel rounds at the end, carved as part of the hilt. Without touching it, I can feel a power from within—it is not just forged with magic but imbibed with it.
I look wide-eyed at the king.
“This will protect you, my new son, when others cannot. Take it.”
I rise at the king’s urging. Corrik growls again but will not dishonor his father by speaking out. I can scarcely believe I’m being given this sword, even as I hold it in my hand and unsheathe it. I can’t help but swing it around and circle it in arcs and before I realize it, I’m showing off a bit; my glee is undeniable. The balance is fluid, the weight perfect for my height; I couldn’t ask for a better sword and I happily admit it’s far better than the one I had back home. I get lost in the dance and I swing around, smack into Corrik. He stops me with one hand firm around my wrist, his nose half an inch from my forehead, close enough to feel his hot breath.
“Put it away.”
I nod carefully and sheathe it, pulling the baldric around my head to allow the sword to rest at my left hip. I keep my eyes to my feet not wanting to challenge him now.
“We will arrive at Port Gilkara in the morning, what do we do until then?” Corrik demands of his father, while his eyes still rest on me. “We don’t know where they’re coming from, and we don’t know how to stop them.”
“A constant vigil of course, as we’ve always done. There’s not much more we can do than that, Corrik.”
I finally look up to catch something passing over Corrik’s eyes, a light, like they’ve been scanned by a sunbeam.
“Something’s wrong.” He runs out the doors, with me close behind him—I let a few of the guard filter out in front of me and when I exit, I see what he felt.
A massacre: fallen Elves and the strange humans everywhere, Corrik already fighting.
“Tristan!” It’s the king. He grabs my arm. “Go. Find Diekin. We need every Elf available.” I nod, my sword announcing its arrival with the ring of steel.
I keep hidden as I make my way to the lower deck where Diekin’s chambers are. I doubt he’s there, but it’s the only place I can think to start. The halls of the ship are lit with the natural light of the sun but feel eerie in their emptiness.
I listen for footsteps, but the chance of me hearing anything is slim—Elves are slippery and able to move silently, beyond the hearing of mere humans. If there are any around, they’ve most likely heard me already. I press against a wall and hold my breath. I will be strong, I will be brave, I will—
“ Mmmph! ” So much for that plan. With a hand over my mouth, an Elf drags me into a room I don’t recognize, fortunately, the voice I do.
“Shhh. It is me, Junior Warlord. Don’t move, I’ll be right back.”
He’s out the door before I get the chance to say anything else. I hear the clanging of swords and the squelch of a body being run through. I close my eyes and hope it’s not Diekin.
It's not.
“Come with me—keep your sword out.” He looks happy to be able to say that to me. I’m certain Diekin would love to see me fight.
Keeping close to him, I remain quiet until I see the smoke. “Diekin, look over there.”
“They’ve set fire to the ship,” he says.
We run now, and Diekin fights through Rogue Elves as we go, not letting them get at me. It’s now that I notice he’s only half dressed—he’s not wearing a shirt and I can see he’s got a surface wound across his broad chest. It glistens with blood.
When several Elves surround us, Diekin throws me a worried look: he thinks as Corrik does, that I can’t fight Elves and I know from my first experience that they’re right. It doesn’t mean I won’t die trying. I stand back-to-back with him; it reminds me of when Lucca and I fought. I pretend it’s the same.
They descend on us and Diekin fights like I’ve never seen him, but this time, he can’t keep them away from me. I bring my sword up in time to prevent one from taking my head.
“No!” one of them yells at the one about to slice me. “He must be alive!”
It gives me the distraction I need, and I run him through, my new sword tastes blood for the first time, the impact of it igniting hits me and I’m thrown back into the circle of Elves. Two of them reach to grab me, but I’m suddenly stronger and faster as I hold the sword in my hand and swing at them with long practiced strokes. They look as surprised as I feel.
It’s the sword—it’s magic, the king had it made for me knowing I don’t have the powers of Elves, knowing I’d need them. I continue to slice through these Elves, confident in the powers of the sword in combination with my own fighting abilities.
Diekin is doing well—he looks like he’s having fun. I suppose he wants to amend for failing me earlier. I smile and keep slicing.
We do well and we’re left with a pile of Rogue Elf bodies twelve high.
“Tristan. You fought well.” He’s trying to hide his surprise.
“The king gave me this sword, it’s magic,” I explain, and I realize I’m feeling woozy.
“You don’t look so good. C’mon. We must get you back to Corrik. He’ll lose it when he finds out you’ve come down here.”
“King’s orders.”
“King’s orders?” he says behind him as we run. “Sassem Ylor, kiya! What’s happening up there leaving him with no choice but to send you off on your own?”
“A massacre,” I say as we run up to the second deck. We’re one floor from the top and from Corrik.
He skids to a halt. “Tristan, I have to get you out of here.”
“Out of here? How, exactly?”
“There are lifeboats—if we go back to the lower deck, we can access them.”
“No. We’re not abandoning everyone.”
“That’s it,” he says to himself. “That’s what the king wanted—why he sent you to me. He wants me to get you off the ship, I’m sure of it. You’re the most vulnerable.”
“Diekin, no. Running away is dishonorable.”
“Sack your Markaytian pride. You’re coming with me if I have to knock you out and drag you.”
“No,” says a deep voice from behind. “He is coming with me. ”
I recognize Ando, immediately.
“Tristan, run. ”
This time I don’t hesitate, I run remembering the trouble I got Diekin into for not listening to his orders. I hear them fighting, Diekin and the prince of the Rogue Elves, and the sounds fade into the background as I head down the hallway. This ship is way too bloody huge. I still don’t know its every turn, but I know I’m on the floor where Corrik’s and my bedchambers are.
Two Elves chase me down a hallway and I turn right then left, hoping to force them into splitting up once they realize that if they do, they could surround me. My plan works better than I hoped, and I lose them completely. It’s quiet and I don’t know where to go. Should I plan on meeting Diekin at the lifeboats? Or head up to Corrik and the others? What if Diekin is right? What if the king wanted me off the ship? I have no idea, so I decide I’ll stick with Diekin’s plan for now— where are the damn stairs? I make it down another hall and realize I’m near my and Corrik’s room. I duck inside. Perhaps there are some items Diekin, and I could use for our journey.
My pack is sitting as always on my side of the bed. I grab it and begin stuffing food inside. There is always a tray of fruit, dried meats and cheeses provided for me and Corrik. I dump as much as I can into my pack. There aren’t any other weapons around—except my dagger, I realize. I don’t know where Corrik hides it, and I don’t have a lot of time for looking so I quickly check through his bedside table. Nothing but too much lube, which I grab a bottle of, in the first drawer—who knows what I could use it for. In the second drawer, there’s no dagger, but there is Papa’s ring. I snatch it and stuff it into the front pocket. There’s little time, I must leave, but I can’t help feeling that dagger might be handy. I don’t know what lies ahead for Diekin and I. I open the armoire, and rifle through more of Corrik’s things. Nothing. I’m about to give up when I spy something glinting from beneath a pile of clothes.
“Gotcha,” I say as I unearth it—still in its sheath. I tie it to my leg.
Someone falls inside the door, loud and sloppy. “There you are. We must go.” Thank the Gods it’s Diekin, but he’s injured and bleeding worse than before. The surface wound across his chest has been slashed open; he’s losing a lot of blood. Medicine! I grab lube, but no medicine. I know Corrik keeps some items in our room that have healing qualities. I run to those cupboards.
“Come! We have little time.” His breath is labored.
I swing the pack over my back and give a last regret-filled look to the room and then turn to follow him.
That’s when I see something move behind Diekin.
“ Diekin. ”
The Rogue Elf prince is there and runs his sword straight through Diekin’s torso. Diekin falls unconscious, but I can see he is still breathing.
Andothair steps over his body like it’s nothing more than a log. “Shall we then?”
“Fuck you.”
“I thought you would say that.”
My eyelids are heavy in an instant. My body meets the ground.