Chapter Four #2
It turned out that it was possible to have sex in a carriage, but it was more awkward than Tor had expected. It required planning—Tor hadn’t actually packed oil on his person—and he wasn’t risking any evidence being left in the carriage that someone might claim meant an orgy had taken place.
They did have the benefit of being in out of the rain, but the downpour after the snow melt meant the roads really were in disrepair. All that swaying and jolting didn’t actually make for a smooth experience.
He and Rin finally fell off the seats and crashed to the bottom of the carriage, which wasn’t as comfortable but did mean there was really nowhere else to go.
(It was remarkably awkward when you couldn’t get your dick to go where you wanted it to go and to stay there. Rin laughed a lot, though, and Tor was reminded of the benefits of having friends who were happy to sleep with you from time to time.)
Afterwards, Tor admitted with amusement, “This makes me feel way more inept than usual.”
Rin shrugged, the motion jostling Tor slightly where he sat recovering next to Rin in the bottom of the carriage. “Better to practice on me than anyone that you’re trying to charm.”
Tor had to concede the truth of that. “I’ll cross it off the list with Pelun, shall I?”
“I’m not complaining,” Rin told him. Only then he added, “That would be rude.”
Tor laughed. “Thanks for that.”
It did alleviate the boredom, but it was something that they agreed they weren’t going to need to do again anytime soon.
“I’m not that bored,” Rin said.
“Oh, ouch.” Tor tried to sound wounded.
Rin just grinned at him, completely unrepentant, which was another reason why Tor liked him so much.
Eventually, they crossed the bridge linking Lotar and Vayrin.
There weren’t any guards currently, but there were still outposts where the guards could be posted should it become necessary.
The twenty-five years of peace meant they were all supposed to be able to move freely between each of the realms, but Tor was well aware it wasn’t always that simple.
The important thing, though, was that he’d made it into Vayrin, and Tor could tick one more requirement off his mental list. No drinking. No orgies. Vayrin. Done, done, and done.
Seriously considering his marriage prospects could probably be checked off, too.
It was that consideration that made him certain Terila was a poor choice.
But he supposed since he’d chosen someone to court, he really needed to meet them in person.
Well, they’d met, but it had been a few years.
Varex’s wedding, probably. Or maybe the coronation.
He frowned. Maybe both? He still couldn’t bring Prince Pelun to mind specifically, although he seemed to recall that his brother Bavil was blond and handsome and personable.
Was Pelun like his brother? Tor supposed there was always the chance that the two of them would be completely incompatible, and then Tor would have to decide just how much he could fake.
But he was getting ahead of himself. He couldn’t remember Pelun—but that at least meant he wasn’t like Terila, and that was a great place to start.
Tor made sure to get a little bit quieter and seem more depressed as they progressed through Vayrin, like his attempts to put himself in better spirits hadn’t been altogether successful, and no one seemed to be surprised that he was spending almost all of his time inside the carriage.
They’d fully established at this point that Tor truly wasn’t drinking.
As annoying as it was, it meant that no one expected to see him socializing at any of the inns they stopped at.
Tor promptly headed off to the best room and spent a lot of time staring at the ceiling and wondering how long it would take him to pull this off and actually get Varex to change his mind.
They waited until they had an extremely rainy night that looked as though it would not let up, and then the long-suffering Rin allowed Tor to dye his hair.
“The things I do for you,” Rin bemoaned as he stared at himself in the mirror afterwards.
“You still look lovely,” Tor assured him, staring at the reflected image.
They definitely didn’t look like twins, but they did look more superficially similar thanks to the dark hair.
Rin met his eyes in the mirror, face skeptical. “I’m not sure it’s my best look.”
“Are you saying there’s something wrong with brunets?”
“When they’re you?” Rin flashed him a grin. “Definitely not.”
Tor tried not to look as smug as he felt.
Rin’s gaze returned to his own face, and he shook his head, but he gamely said, “Anything for you, of course. It’s not every day that I’m asked to masquerade as the High Prince.”
It was technically illegal, since Rin was neither a prince nor Extraordinary. He was knighted, at least, and Tor had given him a letter of authorization just in case.
“You’ll give it up if anything goes wrong,” Tor instructed him.
“What could possibly go wrong?” Rin asked with a rakish grin.
On consideration, Tor was pretty sure Rin was right, and he looked a lot better as a blond. Oh, well.
“I mean it,” Tor said more seriously.
“I won’t actually endanger my life for your ridiculous escapade,” Rin promised, but he rolled his eyes.
“Listen,” Tor said, reaching out to squeeze Rin’s arm, wanting him to understand that Tor was fully earnest now. “I might have cooked up this absurd plan to protect myself, but I would definitely prefer exile to anything happening to you because of me. Got it?”
For a moment, Rin’s eyes flashed with an emotion that Tor couldn’t name, something altogether more serious than usual in his expression, but then he grinned wide once more.
“It’s clearly in my best interest to make sure this goes off without a hitch, because I know you’d drag me off into exile with you.”
Tor would never make Rin go with him, but goddess, he’d be grateful if the man came anyway.
Rin clasped his arm. “It’ll be fine. We’re both too charming for our own good.”
“There is that,” Tor agreed. “You want to come to bed?”
“That does seem like the sort of thing that the Prince would do, doesn’t it?”
“Along with no drinking and no orgies,” Tor reminded him, adding with relish, “Prince Torex.”
Rin grimaced, and Tor tugged him into bed.
Tor was glad to be getting away from the carriage, but he was going to miss his friend.
Tor slept fitfully and was easily able to sneak away in the wee hours of the morning. He was wearing his—or rather Rin’s—helmet, so that helped further obscure his identity. A yawning Rin was there to see him off.
“I hope everything goes smoothly for you,” Tor told him.
Rin grinned, still looking sleep ruffled and paler than normal, probably thanks to the shock of dark hair. “I hope you have an adventure.”
Ruefully, Tor agreed, “I’ll certainly be doing something that I’ve never done before.”
Rin clapped him on the shoulder. “That’s the spirit. Have fun. And stay safe! No way am I taking on this prince lark permanently!”
Tor couldn’t help but smile. “Understood.” Tor swung himself into the saddle. “At least I’m on a horse again, even if it’s not my horse.”
“I’ll take care of your picky stallion, never fear.”
“See that you do.”
“Good luck, Sir Rinil,” Rin said with another yawn.
“Thank you, Your Highness,” Tor responded.
Rin grimaced, and Tor nudged his steed’s sides.
Melody, at least, was used to Tor. Rin and Tor had swapped out periodically, as Tor had with several other of the guards in his troop, though not many had been able or desirous of handling Monster, who thought he was the terror of horses everywhere and definitely as dark as his all-black appearance—but he really just needed lots of apples, carrots, oats, and coddling. Tor was going to miss him.
He headed back towards Lotar for a little while, on the off-chance anyone was watching from the inn, and then he began to make his way north, cutting through fields and stands of trees rather than taking the main road where he might be remembered.
One of the first things he learned was that it was great to be a knight. He wasn’t receiving the fawning service towards the High Prince, but his uniform meant he wasn’t getting grief from people, either.
Plus, no one mistook him for his brother and gaped at him.
Thankfully, the farther away he got from Alossa and any of the capital cities, the less likely that was to happen.
Bad enough when people fawned over him, but it was way worse when they tried to fawn over the king and then realized they’d picked the wrong brother.
He’d never come up with a way to just be a person—until he got to be Sir Rinil instead of himself or Varex.
After a couple of days, he left Vayrin behind and entered Bessar.
(He was so glad he was on this side of the river and wasn’t going through Filon.
Somehow, he’d have wound up having to talk to King Nostex, he was sure of it.)
He switched back to the main road so that he could sleep in inns and move quickly. It was chillier the farther north he went, the ground slowly rising as he headed towards Tond.
Tor had kept some of his funds with him, and Ada and Rin had loaned him a little more, but most of his money was even now heading towards Glomar with Rin.
Still, he had enough to get by, especially since he didn’t need the best of everything.
A knight with ready coin was welcome, especially as it was not generally busy.
Tor found that it was easy to find a reasonable room, a reasonable meal—and generally, a reasonable companion who was happy to spend a couple of hours with one of the King’s guards.
As per his brother’s ludicrous command, he made sure it was never more than one person in an evening. And he was always clear that he was passing through and this would be a night’s entertainment only.
Tor wondered if Rin had made it to the castle yet. Had he explained himself to Terila and her parents? He doubted they’d be happy, but it wasn’t like Rin was Tor’s keeper. They couldn’t actually blame him for Tor’s disappearance.
Tor steered carefully clear when the road split and one fork headed off to Zanay.
Sovereign Gornexi would recognize Tor, since they’d seen one another at Cala’s naming ceremony only a few months ago, as well as Gornexi’s wedding just a handful of years before that.
And since Gornexi was married to Terila’s sister, it would be too easy for word to get out.
There should be no reason for Tor to actually be noticed by the royal family in Zanay, but he wasn’t risking it.
It was a lot easier to move unobtrusively when you didn’t have a whole bunch of servants and guards traveling with you.
When he approached the border of Gornexi’s realm, he found himself stuck for a few days at an inn because of heavy rain in the area, which had put the bridge between Bessar and Tond underwater. The Great River was even greater than normal, it seemed.
Tor wanted to get there and get started on his courtship, but he wasn’t about to swim.
The people in the inn peered at the sky and pointed at the mountain.
“At least another couple of days,” they predicted.
So Tor entertained himself very pleasantly, irritated anew that his brother had decided to judge his behavior and put restrictions on how he found his pleasure. As long as everyone was of age and enjoyed themselves and no one was hurt, he didn’t understand what the problem was.
Within two days, as predicted, the water level had lowered enough that the bridge was safe to cross again.
Tor had only been to Tond a couple of times, and he’d always noticed that it seemed a bit harsher than Alossa.
They were surrounded by mountains, and Baless was built into one set of foothills, while there was another range that separated Filon from Tond—and Tond from what was now the exiles’ land.
It wasn’t the lush land of Alossa, close to the sea with no mountainous barriers.
Tor wasn’t used to mountains towering pretty much everywhere that the eye could see, and it made a weird, unsettled feeling squirm in his belly.
The last time he’d been so close was on the other side of the western mountain range, on King Nostex’s land. The exiles had been raiding, the losses heavy, and Tor as captain of the High King’s guard had been sent in to sort everything out.
They’d stopped the exiles, but at a cost, and when Tor had returned to Alossa, he’d been stripped of his rank. He glared at the mountains, sure they were responsible for such unwanted introspection.
Recklessly irresponsible, Varex had said.
Tor turned himself resolutely away from the mountains and tried to focus only on getting to the castle in Baless.
He’d have to be Prince Torex from this point onward, he supposed.
He was now in King Forex’s realm, and if he was courting one of his children, he had to do it as himself the whole time.
He had one mission, and that was to appear to court Prince Pelun with enough seriousness that people believed he wanted to bond with the man.
And then Varex could panic, and everything would be resolved the way Tor wanted.
He just needed to get to the castle and find Prince Pelun, because Tor had been wracking his brain, and he still couldn’t picture the other man at all.
Everyone had come to Nexa for Varex’s marriage five years ago.
He remembered Prince Bavil, because the man had laughed a lot and been very pretty.
He liked to flirt with the ladies, and he’d easily captured Tor’s attention.
He even remembered Larexa, if he wasn’t mistaken; she’d only recently come into her Extraordinary magic, which was rare enough that it occasioned comment.
He hadn’t paid that much attention, as she couldn’t have been more than sixteen.
But try as he might, he couldn’t remember Pelun. But he must have been there.
Tor ran through the possibilities again. Was there a teen he hadn’t been paying that much attention to? But Pelun must have been in his twenties. Bavil was nearly Tor’s age, he was pretty sure. Maybe Pelun was much closer in age to his sister?
Tor shrugged it off. It would become obvious once he arrived. And then all Tor had to do was seduce him, which was one of his best skills. This was going to be a piece of cake.