Chapter Five
Pel
Pel started the day the way he always did.
He woke up early. He cleaned up, shaved, and dressed, then headed down to the kitchen to grab something to eat.
There was a formal breakfast later, but Pel didn’t want to wait that long—nor did he particularly want to spend more time with his family than he had to.
There were only so many annoyed looks, rolling of eyes, and snide comments that he could stand.
Unsurprisingly, when the Unremarkable removed himself from the equation, everyone else got along smoothly. It wasn’t as though Pel had asked to be born into the royal family, and he’d certainly not chosen to have so little magic.
He remembered plenty of fun years in his childhood, running around and playing without any self-consciousness or awareness of any difference between himself and his siblings.
It had all started to change when he Manifested, and it had gotten worse three years ago.
Now, they all functioned best when they ignored one another, and that was fine with Pel.
What was the point of spending time with people when they didn’t want to spend time with him?
Just because they were related to one another didn’t mean they had anything in common.
That had been amply demonstrated over the years.
So Pel had his nice peaceful breakfast without any catty comments, and then he headed out to the stables to see his horse, check in with the stable hands, and make sure that the night had gone well.
It wasn’t Pel’s job to check in with people.
Actual issues should have been reported to the King or to Bavil, but Pel found that, perhaps as a result of the magical status that he deplored, people seemed to find it easier to talk to him.
Pel was able to make suggestions and recommendations as a result, just little ideas here and there, maybe nipping a problem in the bud before it became something that needed to be reported to the King.
Once upon a time, Pel had assumed he might one day marry—but that wasn’t likely to happen if no ruler would consider him.
He wasn’t handsome and Illustrious like Bavil, or beautiful and Extraordinary like Larexa.
No, he was just Pel, and he had it on excellent authority that he wasn’t worth even common courtesy, never mind actual consideration for courting.
And yet despite that fact, Pel was equally aware that if he tried to marry a common citizen, his father would be outraged—unless perhaps they were Extraordinary, but those most magical folks were few and far between.
If someone did appear, they were much more likely to be interested in either of Pel’s more appealing siblings (or royalty from a larger realm).
So Pel focused on making sure their people were taken care of to the best of his ability.
He greeted his mare, Extraordinary. (Pel had been eight, and his very own horse had seemed like the most amazing thing ever.) She nickered, ears pricked forward, and let him stroke her strong neck.
She was soon saddled, and he mounted up and headed out to check in at the outlying farms and see if there were any concerns.
The planting season would be upon them soon, but they’d had a lot of rain.
Pel wasn’t a farming expert, but since he’d been basically ignored from the age of sixteen, he knew how nice it was to feel listened to and valued. He could bring that to others even if he couldn’t seem to achieve it for himself.
(If he pointed out that they’d been at peace for twenty-five years and it didn’t actually matter if someone Extraordinary could shield themselves and others with pure magic, he was simply accused of sour grapes.
No one wanted any viewpoint other than that Extraordinary were wonderful, and Unremarkable were commonplace and uninteresting.)
So Pel would listen to the farmers complain that the winters were getting colder and longer. It was even worse over the mountain, or so they were theorizing, because the raids from the exiles were getting worse.
King Forex accused the exiles of trying to sabotage the realm, but they were stealing grain and other food stuff. Pel thought it a lot more likely that they were starving than that they were plotting.
King Forex was running out of patience, however, and they all knew it.
The exiles had been banished, and High Queen Ralexa, King Varex’s mother, had declared that the land beyond the mountain was theirs.
But Pel knew his father still dreamed of a realm that was larger than the one his had been reduced to.
The easiest way to expand was over that mountain, taking back the land that had once belonged to Tond.
Pel couldn’t see the value in trying to oust the exiles and offending the High King, but maybe that was because he’d been three when the war ended.
Bavil remembered a little more, while Larexa hadn’t even been born yet.
They’d grown up in peace, and Pel wished everyone would keep looking forward instead of back.
He’d learned the hard way over the years that the only behavior he could change was his own. He’d keep being approachable and responsible, and maybe one day, his family would realize the value in that.
He was on his way back from his rounds and had just reached a crossroads when he became aware of another rider on horseback coming up the road that led from Lotar.
As he drew closer, Pel recognized the bearing of a guard, and then he was near enough for Pel to see he was wearing a helmet branded with the High King’s crest. Alarm jolting through him, Pel straightened and scanned for signs of further threat, but it seemed to be just this lone man, who was rather sodden from the rain.
A messenger from the High King? Pel could only imagine how his father would react to that. They got monthly packets of mail, of course, but they seemed to receive special missives almost exclusively when there was a great life event and it would be impossibly rude to exclude them.
Pel couldn’t imagine why they would want to join the High Family, but maybe that was just him. Apparently, hanging out with lots of other highly magical people and spending a lot of time dancing, drinking, and being impressed with how wonderful everyone supposedly was appealed to many.
He hoped that there wasn’t going to be another wedding. As much as his father complained about it, he would have complained even more if he’d been excluded. He would insist they all go. Last time, Pelun had suggested he remain behind, and his father had refused.
Well, Pel would manage another wedding if he had to. He would simply ignore Princess Terila, and Sovereign Gornexi and their family would ignore Pel and his family, and it would be awkward and awful.
“You there!” the man called as he came abreast of Pel. “Which way to the castle?”
Pel bristled at the imperious tone. It wasn’t a question, it was a demand, as though Pel existed only to serve as a signpost for this man’s conceited self.
“I would think a messenger in the High King’s army would know the way,” Pel snapped.
The man straightened, the blue eyes that Pel glimpsed through his helmet flashing fire. “What did you say?”
“Are you hard of hearing as well as deficient in a sense of direction?”
The guard huffed a breath. “Goddess, this is just what I needed today.”
Pel just raised an eyebrow.
The man glared at him and then urged his stallion into motion, taking, Pel noticed, the fork in the road that would get him to Baless and to the castle… eventually. The foothills made line of sight bad here.
Pel watched him go, sagged into his saddle, and reflected ruefully that it would probably have been wiser to have given him directions. There was no advantage to having a messenger from the High King upset from the moment of his arrival in the realm.
But Pel had let his temper get the better of him, and there was nothing for it now. He wasn’t about to chase after the man. Pel picked the road that wound around the hill and skipped the town, leading right to the castle.
In the stables, Pel unsaddled Extraordinary and then set about grooming her.
Several stable hands offered help, but Pel wanted to do it himself.
The repetitive motions helped smooth away the ire that still danced through his blood.
He didn’t want to go to Alossa just to be ignored when he could already be ignored so effectively here.
But he didn’t even know why the messenger was here, and he shouldn’t be borrowing trouble.
Instead, he tried to concentrate on the rhythmic movements of the brush. If he was too gentle or too hard, then Extraordinary would let him know, and he would apologize and refocus.
So Pel concentrated on his mare’s glossy brown coat and told her what a good horse she’d been and how grateful he was that she’d carried him around again all morning.
“You’ve earned an apple and a carrot,” Pel promised her.
Extraordinary turned and nudged him with her big head, like she thought she should be fed now.
“When we’re done,” Pel said with a laugh. “You know how this works.”
He was checking Extraordinary’s hooves for stones when a shadow loomed outside of the stall and an annoyed voice that Pel recognized said, “Really? You work at the castle, and you couldn’t have pointed me in the right direction?”
“Had you asked for directions, I might have,” Pel informed him without looking. “The assumption that I was there solely for your whim was excessive.”
Finally glancing up, he nearly bit his tongue, his stomach lurching ominously.
For an instant, he thought he was facing the High King, but then he realized that there was no way he’d have traveled alone. He was puzzled that the High Prince would do so, but it still seemed the altogether more likely scenario.
He offered a belated bow. “Your Highness.”
The Prince’s lips tipped up in a sneer. “You were saying about my whims?”