Atoning for his sins

Chapter 62| Atoning for his sins

Tristan noticed Saif's questioning gaze at him even as he tried to hide his surprise at how he had reacted to the Duke's spoilt son's folly.

He had never been the one to dabble in such affairs in fact he remained cold and unaffected by most of the conversations made during training and had heard lots of side talks where the men had called him rude and snobbish, feeling arrogant to associate with them but it had never bothered him.

So what was the maddening rage that had engulfed him, so much so he had punched Clark to a state of consciousness forgetting his control classes in just a split second just because of an unthoughtful comment?

"We don't talk to women that way in Indiosia." Tristan managed to utter, noticing that everyone have stopped what they were doing as they expectantly waited for an explanation of some sort from him for acting out of character, "I've always wanted to make an example of Clark for the longest of time."

There was a long pause but slowly everyone turned back to what they were up to initially buying what he had said.

Abba scoffed furrowing his brow, "If you had punched half as hard as you did poor Clark, you won't be so far behind in today's training."

Kimberly's noticed Saif's furrowed brow and she could tell his thinking wheels were now turning. He knew and now felt that something was up which led her to one explanation. Tristan was an exceptionally good fighter.

His eyes met hers and whatever he saw, made him move towards her, ignoring his father's heated glare.

"What is happening, Kimberly?"

"He wants you to hit him." She eagerly replied, waiting for some kind of explanation from him as to why Tristan was acting so out of character. She would buy a mental institute in the realm story at this point.

"The fool had still not changed, so much for being my senior." Kimberly raised her brow at his low gravelly whisper having a feeling Saif was talking more to himself.

He met Tristan's smirk as he looked up. He could tell that Kimberly had told him what he planned on doing, cursing under his breath. He was 28 and yet for some reason, he couldn't resolve conflict without his fists and still haven't figured out the use of dialogue.

He was atoning for his sins by being his punching bag. Foolish Tristan.

Saif walked towards the spot Tristan stood, almost rolling his eyes at how his father watched in rapt attention also eager to know what was really going on.

Tristan might have gotten out of touch with archery and might have been spending so much time at the infirmary but fighting that wasn't a skill he had been taught. His skills were not known or practiced and everything about his reflexes was a marvel.

Fighting comes naturally to Tristan as breathing and he could defeat Saif without putting in any effort at all hence when Abba had told him he was going to be sparring with Tristan, he had thought he had done something so wrong, especially as Abba was willing to let Tristan have free rein of hitting his ass so hard.

Tristan's gait was defensive and Saif chuckled. Who was he kidding or was he that desperate to get a whopping? He was a gifted attacker so what the hell was he doing?

Saif rushed towards him and he pursed his lips noticing that Tristan stiffened and just waited making no attempt to move, awaiting his strike, him getting rid of his anger by pouncing on him, inflicting physical injuries on him the way he had, emotionally on Kimberly.

But instead, he certainly did not expect a bone-crushing hug from Saif even as he felt his hot breath against his ear.

"I won't give you the satisfaction of letting this go by hitting you, Prince Tristan."

"Why? That was our agreement. Whenever I wronged you this was an avenue of settlement." His breath was harsh and Saif could tell that frustration cuts at him like a chainsaw and soon he just might snap. But he didn't mind, not at all.

"Because we are no longer children and you didn't wrong me. You wronged Kimberly even though you knew the emotional turmoil she was in," his hand came up to pat Tristan, then another, "Letting me ram my fist into you doesn't solve everything dear brother, I'm sorry."

Then he released Tristan, smiled at him, and then turning to wipe his hand with a towel provided by one of his guards like it was stained with blood, he left the courtyard.

Tristan made to rush after him but Kimberly was already running after him, beating him to it while he stared at her retreating figure, sighing feeling defeated and deflated.

He turned to meet Abba's narrowed gaze, "What was that about?"

"What?" He feigned ignorance even while knowing that every soul with a brain in-between their ear could figure out that something was probably up with him and Saif was involved in it.

He sat down on the floor ignoring the stares burning through his body by every man. That was yet another of firsts. Wasn't today a beautiful day? He thought to himself cynically.

He had allowed someone ram their fist into his body, showed an emotion that wasn't indifference because of Kimberly, and now sat on the floor with the rest of them like he was one of them. He wasn't. He was their scumbag of a Crown Prince, who never removed his clothes while fighting, took pride in hitting you to unconsciousness without breaking into a sweat, and avoiding dirt and dust while at it.

"That would be all for today," Tristan placed his head in-between his lap knowing that the unusual end of training below the normal time had everything to do with his peculiar attitude but he didn't even have the patience to pretend like he cared.

He looked up, noticing the men all stacking up their stuff and calling on their guard who was to help move it to their awaiting carriages.

He stood up and made to leave the courtyard when his father's authoritative voice stopped him in his tracks.

"Crown Prince, Tristan you have not been dismissed yet."

Not son? He stood watching the other men leave as he reflected on when last the Abba called him by his title.