Epilogue
EPILOGUE
I appear calm on the outside as always, but Diekin knows better, he expects I’m going to kill him slowly and painfully. I may just and save him from having to face my sister after such disgrace.
He was returned to us hours ago. I cared little that he was clearly malnourished and paler than is usual for our kind. He is without Tristan— I want to know why —but Ditira forced me to wait and allow the healers to do their work. She didn’t do more than card her fingers through his pasty hair, never asking a question, knowing I would want to ask the first ones. When he was healed, she kissed him, but left us without a word—that’s why I love my sister. She is good to me—too good. I know the anguish she’s suffered not knowing what has become of her mate. But she gave me the time alone with him I needed. After she left, I listened to him a long time as he told me of Aldrien’s plans for war with Mortouge and finally, he forced out the words about my Tristan.
“They are keeping him, Sire. He is alive and well.”
“Keeping him? Was there a note? A ransom demand?”
“Nothing. Just this, from Tristan.”
In his hand is the wedding ring I gave Tristan long before our wedding day. I snatch it from his hand. “Tristan gave this to you to give to me?” I clarify.
“Yes. And he says …”
“ Yes ?” I prompt when he stops speaking, the desire to hear any word he might say to me strong and anxious. It’s been months without him—at least I now know he’s alive. Tristan is alive.
“Hi.”
“Hi?”
He gives a firm nod.
It means something specific—I know his heart even if he does not know himself.
“Do you know what it could mean, Corrik?”
“I think so. It means, Goodbye.”
“Hello, means goodbye?”
“Yes. He accepted it as an act of good faith before our wedding; he’s giving it back to tell me to stop having faith because he’s lost faith in us. It can only mean one thing: he has betrayed me.”
“He bartered to save my life, even if he shouldn’t have. He did not betray you, he had little choice.” Diekin’s eyes narrow, but not at me, I think he’s angry with Tristan. I am too.
“I know that Diekin and I agree, but Tristan is a man of great honor, he believes this the honorable thing to do in light of whatever thing he has done. It does not matter that I don’t see it as betrayal, he does.” I don’t care what thing he’s done. I should be the one to decide if he may leave me and I’d never decide that. If he won’t come home willingly, I’ll have to fetch him—somehow. I smolder, growing angrier with him for being so presumptuous over what I might feel that he’d leave me over his own foolishness.
“Corrik?”
Something in the way his voice trembles, I know the accusation that’s coming. “Yes?”
“Where were you? Tristan didn’t voice it much when he would visit me—he wouldn’t, it’s not his style, but I know he wondered—why didn’t you come? ”
The assumption itself is preposterous, if only he knew what we’ve been through in these past months. “What makes you think I haven’t tried?”
“I asked Tristan more than once if he’d heard any word of Elves in the area, he seemed able to discover a lot, he never mentioned having heard anything about other Elves. I’m surprised to find you still in Mortouge.”
“I haven’t been in Mortouge long, we’ve been to the place Aldrien lies and it’s not there— it has somehow disappeared! ”
“We’ve always known where Aldrien is, it’s right here,” he says pointing at the map. We’re in the large War Room, the only place I am these days. I stare at that deficient map repeating the same thing, but it’s right there because it’s the only thing I can do. I have the insatiable need to do something.
“Andothair has figured out a way to hide Aldrien. It’s not there, not anymore. We’ve been in and around the area we know it to be, we remained there for weeks until Father ordered us home when it became nothing more than a camping trip.”
“How can it be hidden?” He’s staring at the map, barely able to speak, his jaw opening and closing several times trying to make words out of the scattered thoughts flying through his mind. “I believe you, but Corrik, I was there months—it is there I assure you.”
“I’m certain it is, but I don’t know where it went,” I say. “I don’t suppose they allowed you to be awake for the journey back?”
He shakes his head. “What do we do about it then? How do we find it?”
“We?”
“Yes. I am going to help, whatever you do.”
“How do you know I’m going to do anything? And what makes you think I’d allow you to if I were?”
“Because he means more to you than anything. You’ll figure out a way to get him back.” Diekin gives me his famous wink. “And I’m not asking for permission. I’m coming. It is my right to redeem myself. We all deserve a shot at redemption, do you not agree? ”
I do agree, but I don’t say so. Diekin is a cocky little so-and-so and doesn’t need any more to feed his ego with. “If I’m to suffer your presence, you will agree to obey me in Ditira’s absence.”
“Don’t I always?” I narrow my brow at him. Diekin isn’t behaved at the best of times. “I will, Corrik.”
“And if you don’t?”
“You’ll tan my pretty little hide?”
“Every day for the next millennia,” I say and mean it.
“Yes, Sire.”
“What’s going on in here?” Alrik stands in the doorway tall and foreboding. What does he want? He’s the last thing I need to deal with now. Unfortunately, I must answer him. He’s owed respect as my brother and elder, even if I want to plough through him with my fist for interfering all the time.
“Diekin and I are going to find Aldrien and rescue Tristan.”
“Not without me you’re not. The details. Now.”
I growl, but I obey him. I relay everything Diekin’s told me, including what little I know of their plans for war. I tell him what has become of Tristan.
“Then this is grave, very grave,” he says. “Very, well. I will join your search. I have always dealt well with the Aldrien Elves, perhaps I can persuade them otherwise—if we ever find them that is.”
He cannot be involved. No one knows of my affair with Prince Andothair; he’ll skin me alive. “You will not be able to talk the Aldriens out of war if they’ve decided they’ve reason enough—you know how stubborn they are.”
“Perhaps, but it is always worth an attempt. In any case, you are too emotionally wrought over that Markaytian, Corrik. I don’t trust your judgment in this. Be grateful I allow you to do this at all. I know Father advised you to lay this to rest.”
Yes, advised me. He didn’t outright forbid it. It’s hard to control my tongue, especially when he refers to my husband as “that Markaytian,” but I do. “I can be trusted, brother. I don’t require assistance. ”
“Nevertheless, you will have assistance. My assistance. You have not yet come of age and your youth is yet another thing that blinds you. I do not trust you.”
It gets harder to keep my temper at bay. I’ve never been known to do it long. “I am married.”
“You were too young to be married. You know well that is why I did not attend the wedding, in protest of it.”
“Father does not agree with you.”
“Father dotes upon his youngest son far more than he should. It is up to me to instill the discipline that you lack.”
“You’ve disagreed with the marriage from the start, you don’t want me to find him. How can I trust you?”
“I have every interest in finding your new husband. It is not his fault that Father is indulgent with you and now we have a treaty with Markaytia that we must uphold. It does not require him living to do so but I will not have us look irresponsible to the Markaytian royals. I will help you get him back and will invest every skill of mine to do so. How dare you accuse me otherwise?”
It isn’t hard to anger my brother, just as it isn’t hard to anger me—a trait I must admit I get from him. Our father and mother are not nearly as quick to anger.
“I am sorry, Alrik. I did not mean to insult you,” I say, rather than point out how many times he’s insulted me during this conversation. Of course, Diekin is witness to this argument and it will further confirm for him the discourse between my brother and I, and he will relay this to Tristan. Normally I’d be upset about that, but it makes me smile with the thought that Tristan is alive and could be home someday to hear Diekin speak of my quarrels with my brother at all. Diekin’s return has refueled my hope, the hope that was beginning to wane.
His eyes give me his most disapproving stare and I can only hope he will not punish me in front of Diekin for what I’ve said.
“Your insolence proves my point. You do not have the wisdom required for such a task. I will join you and that is final. ”
There is nothing more I can say to that. Once Alrik’s mind is made up, there is little one can do to change it. I’ll have to accept his help and keep my secret another way. I give him a tacit nod, but make it clear I’m displeased.
He leaves and I’m alone with a smiling Diekin, who is trying hard not to laugh at me. I slam him against the wall and that’s the thing that sends him over the edge with laughter.
“You’re not yet in my good book as I believe the Markaytian saying goes.” I keep trying to practice them for Tristan, so he’ll feel at home—once he finally is home. “Why are you laughing?”
“Because. The two of you are hilarious. Who needs the theatre?” His laughter reaches uncontrollable, so I help him control it by punching him square in the gut. He’s only just been healed to full strength, but his behavior is going to earn him a punishment that will rob him of some of that good health.
“Oof!”
I let him drop to the ground.
“Oh C’mon, Corrik. I’m only teasing.” He’s still smiling. There are times when Diekin and I are formal and other times when we aren’t. I know he acts familiar now, and teases me to ease my tense demeanor, but I’m not in the mood to appreciate it. “Don’t tease me—I’m short on patience of late. Go see my sister.” I don’t possess large amounts of patience to begin with.
I’ve effectively wiped the smile off Diekin’s face. They’ve seen each other, but he hasn’t had to face his mate yet and he knows she will be disappointed in him. Diekin cannot stand her disappointment. Between the two of us, only I know that she won’t have the nerve to be hard on him—she was too sick over his absence and is glad to have him back. But I’ll let him think he must view her full disappointment; the cheeky bastard needs some form of punishment. He leaves and I am alone.
Alone with the true weight of the problem I now face.
I know this war is my fault. How long will I have to pay for that mistake? I fell in love with Ando a long time ago, but something always prevented me bonding with him. I like to think it was fate. I do love him still and yet I love Tristan, more. I once dreamed of forging an alliance; I would have been the one to finally add the eighth Elven realm to our sphere, but then I saw the vision that told of Tristan and I thought the eighth realm could be damned. We already have seven, do we really need an eighth? With seven realms, the Rogue Elves would never dare oppose us. I don’t see why they would dare now. It’s a fool’s errand. They will lose. But one thing shakes me to my core; if Andothair can move an entire kingdom, can sneak Elves onto a boat, defeat my large army, and steal my husband, what else can he do?
I look at the ring Tristan returned to me and spin it around in my long fingers. I can feel remnants of his energy still present in the ring and even though it is no longer on his hand, it has energy enough to warm its twin, the one on my finger. The energy is weak, it’s been dying awhile now. Too long without the bearer and both rings will go cold—that’s how I knew he wore it after our betrothal, that’s how I know he hasn’t worn it since we lost him—the heat in my ring began to fade instantly. It’s why I was beginning to think he was dead.
But he isn’t, he’s very much alive.
I could sense him through the ring, and I got to know him by it, even better than through the book I left. I felt his essence through the ring and I got to know his beautiful heart. I fell in love with him the first time I saw a vision of him in my dreams, but my love grew deeper as I got to feel his warmth. I tried to send my love to him through the ring. Every night, I pictured him—what I’d seen in my visions of him and what I’d seen of him that first time when Father and I travelled to Markaytia.
I wanted to take him with us that very day, but my father made me wait because of my brother. Alrik was against the marriage from the start and is against it still. He doesn’t care that it was foretold by prophecy. Thankfully, he couldn’t overrule Father.
It’s hard for an Elf to be in the presence of the one they know as their mate and do nothing to assert dominance, even before bonding. I wanted to leave him with a mark and the best I could do was a ring— this ring.
He doesn’t wear it now, nor my marks, nothing to display that he’s mine. This makes me crazy. When he’s home, I shall have, Property of Corrik Cyredanthem, please return if found, tattooed on his arse—seeing as he’s so fond of tattoos—he’s mine and someday he’ll know it.
When you are back Tristan, I will make sure to impress this upon you.
Taking my sword from its sheath, I bathe the blade in blood, by holding it in my fist and running the blade inside, its sharp edges cut through the skin and tendons of my palm and fingers. If I were a human, this would devastate my hand and it would be useless, but I am Elf, and my hand will heal in full before the next rising dawn.
I feel the pain as my sword tastes the blood and I say these words, “Tristan. With this ring I bind you eternally to your one true love.” I place the ring on the table and slam my sword down to imbibe it with the powerful Elven magic I call forth.
It’s anti-climactic. There is no flash, but I can feel the power crackling around the ring when I pick it up from the ruin that is now the table.
When he places the ring on his finger, it will give him faith once again, for it will bind him to his one true love and he’ll know who that is forever and for certain.
Now, I just have to hope that his one true love is me.
THE END