Chapter Two #2
It was that latter that was the only thing that stayed Tor’s hand some days.
Once two people bonded and their magic entwined, it was almost impossible to sever.
Death broke it—and sometimes it took the other partner or partners with it.
As the High King, with the Fealty of both Ada and Thurnil, Varex might be able to pick it apart safely, but there still wasn’t a guarantee.
And it would mean Varex admitting he’d done the wrong thing in forcing Ada into this marriage.
“You deserve better than this,” Tor told her.
Ada’s blue eyes—so like his own—flashed, and she regarded him with exasperation. “It’s not nearly as bad as you act like it is. There are many wonderful things here.”
Tor sighed. It was true that the rest of the family seemed to be much better than Thurnil himself was, although Tor maintained that wasn’t saying much.
King Stronex was serious and dour, at least in most of the interactions that Tor had had with him, although that beak of a nose might have been throwing Tor off, but he wasn’t married to Tor’s sister, and he’d always been scrupulously polite when Tor was here.
Solil, second in line to the throne, seemed good enough, but sort of…
ineffectual. An adequate father- and brother-in-law was hardly going to fill Ada’s life with joy.
Stronex’s two children with his second wife, however, were a different matter.
Par and Hena were 11 and 5, respectively, and they were the sweetest children that Tor had ever met.
(At least until Cala. Once Cala made it out of babyhood, she would obviously be the best child that had ever existed.) Par and Hena adored Ada and seemed to shower her with the love that her husband failed to show her.
“Here are Hena and Par,” Ada told him with the sappy smile she always had for her little siblings-in-law.
“Uncle Tor!” Hena cried as she raced for him, her face lit up. “It’s been so long since you came to visit!”
Tor swept her up into his arms. “Hey, there, sweetheart. Wow, you’ve gotten so big!” He pretended to fumble her as if she were too heavy for him, making her shriek with laughter. “I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner. It’s been busy in Nexa, that’s all.”
Her dark eyes were lit with excitement, deep set in a face that was several shades darker than his own. Thankfully, it still didn’t look like she was set to inherit her father’s nose. Her dark hair was pulled back in a simple braid.
“I’ve got so much to show you!” she told him gleefully.
“I look forward to it.”
Last time he’d visited, she’d been collecting rocks. He’d managed to come up with an inordinate number of compliments for a vast array of stones that had seemed very similar to him, and he really hoped that her interests had shifted by now. But he’d rise to the challenge if required.
As he set Hena down, Par waved at him from his position beside Ada, a gesture which Tor returned. He always took the best care of his little sister and let her and her excitement go first.
Thurnil was never delighted by Tor’s visits, perhaps because he’d realized that if he stepped a toe too obviously out of line while Tor was here, he would not hesitate to hand Thurnil’s ass to him.
Thurnil was careful never to be too rude or cause too many rumors, leaving Tor to glower and mistrust him impotently.
The man absented himself as often as possible, and Tor had to be contented with that.
Ada always insisted Thurnil had never laid so much as a hand on her, but Tor wished that was because he was certain the man would never do such a thing and not just because he feared what the reaction of the High King and his brother would be if he were ever caught.
Tor was altogether willing to be the big stick that would ensure the man’s good behavior for the rest of his life, but he didn’t want to have to be.
“Don’t you want more from life?” he couldn’t help but ask his sister a few hours into their visit.
Rin had taken the troop to get settled and unpacked, and after a whirlwind tour with Hena—it was ribbons now instead of rocks—Tor was spending time with Ada.
She was cuddling Hena, who’d fallen asleep in her arms after a rather silly story that Ada and Tor had made up, half-recollected from childhood and mostly just them being ridiculous, to try to lull her to sleep for a nap that she hadn’t been interested in taking.
Tor helped settle Hena in her bed so that he and Ada could relocate across the room to two comfortable chairs by the fire where they could still keep an eye on Hena but weren’t likely to wake her.
Ada loved to spend time here in the nursery, and she’d set up the room so that it was comfortable and cozy. He wondered if it was she or Stronex who took the time to power the crystal lights.
“How could I want more from life?”
It took Tor a moment to remember he’d asked a question.
But Ada was staring over at Hena with a look of pure love on her face, and Tor couldn’t be the one to take that away by pointing out that the child in question wasn’t hers.
King Stronex’s second wife had died in childbirth with Hena, and Ada had married Thurnil and come to live here when Hena was barely one.
The little girl was her sister-in-law, but perhaps it was no wonder the lines had blurred.
Still, though, in the four years that she and Thurnil had been married, there had never been any hint of their own children.
When Tor saw Ada look at Hena and Par like this he couldn’t help but wonder why that was.
Could Ada or Thurnil not have children? Or were relations between them even worse than Tor had thought?
“Couldn’t we just—” he tried.
Ada shot him a look. Her voice was stern. “Leave it be, little brother.”
Tor was four years older than Ada—but roughly two minutes younger than Varex, and Varex’s teasing of Tor’s younger status had stuck with their younger sister as well.
Tor tolerated it these days from his baby sister in a way that he couldn’t from the brother who’d become a king and someone that Tor couldn’t recognize.
He swallowed past a thick throat and tried to relax back into the comfortable chair he was sitting in. “I want all the best things for you.”
“Of course you do,” Ada agreed, smiling softly at him. “Just as I want the best things for you. And isn’t that what we’re supposed to be talking about at the moment?”
He allowed the change of topic. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned, Ada, it’s that I should marry someone I can respect and care for.”
For just a moment, there was a scalded look on her face, but then it was gone, and she smiled at him, though the smile was a little bit sad.
“That’s always best, if you can manage it.” She met his eyes. “But Tor, sometimes… sometimes, you can’t.”
“You can refuse to marry,” Tor argued.
“But at what cost?”
And that was the part Tor didn’t like. What would happen if he flatly refused to marry as the High King instructed?
If he was really lucky, he would eventually be forgiven, but with what replacement?
If he were seen to simply flout the High King’s decree with no repercussions, he did understand how it could set a dangerous precedent, even if he would argue that he was simply refusing his brother.
Would one marriage simply be traded for another?
And if the absolute worst came to pass, then what? Exile? Would he be sent to join the exiles on the other side of the mountain in Tond? Was it worth giving up Ada, Cala, Rin, and the brother that Tor had loved for years, even if he was a complete ass now?
Tor didn’t like that option, either, and that was what had sent him careening off to his sister, who was capable of both sympathizing and speaking reason to him.
“You’d still let me come visit you if I were in exile, wouldn’t you?” he asked her, leaning towards her.
He’d meant the question to sound purely joking, but he wasn’t sure he’d succeeded.
She shot him a chiding look. “I would let you come visit me no matter what, but I would prefer not to start a war, Tor.”
Yes, Tor would prefer that as well, and just because Ada would be willing to risk the wrath of her brother didn’t mean that Stronex or Thurnil would be willing to do the same—and Tor couldn’t blame them if they were actually thinking about the health and safety of their entire realm.
“I just… I can’t do it,” Tor said, flopping back into his chair. “She’s a nightmare.”
“You haven’t properly courted her,” Ada pointed out practically. “There might be more to her than you realize.”
Tor gave a little shudder. “Haven’t you ever just… known? The opposite of that little burst you get when you Tendril with someone who is compatible. A feeling of repulsion?”
Ada was silent for a moment and then said, “I think we’ve all felt that at some point. We’re all curious as we grow up.”
Tendrilling to check someone else’s strength and compatibility wasn’t the norm, at least not once you left your teen years. When children Manifested during puberty, it was almost impossible to resist checking the connection with others, to see what it felt like to have two magics entwined.
But once you were an adult, Tendrilling was typically only done between courting couples or those who were seriously considering courtship.
So when Terila had done it during a dance with him?
Well, he was pretty sure that she’d been angling to net a High Prince.
He shouldn’t have responded. But he could never resist a challenge.
Maybe he’d been drinking too much, and she’d seemed more beautiful than annoying in that particular moment.
He’d allowed his own magic to surge out his fingertips and Tendril with hers.
And the second they’d twined together, he’d known beyond a shadow of a doubt that there was no connection between them.
It had been the exact opposite, in fact, like they’d mashed two opposing forces together that were desperate to flee.