Chapter Six
Tor
There was a lot of staring. No one’s reaction could rival the stable hand’s, though.
Tor had to admire the brazenness with which his attitude had not changed once he realized who Tor was.
Most people, in his experience, changed their attitude once they realized they were facing the High Prince.
But the stable hand had kept being rude, and it was funnier the longer he thought about it.
Rin or Ada would no doubt say it was no less than he deserved.
He’d thought his question was quite standard, but had he been rude when he asked for directions? It had been a long, wet day, and he’d been ready to arrive, so maybe he’d been a bit short.
And really, whether he’d been rude or not, if he couldn’t handle someone being short with him, then he clearly needed to get out more. Rin and his troop insulted him all the time, but they were friends. Had he really gotten so sensitive that he couldn’t handle a stranger’s scorn?
Tor put the encounter out of his mind as he was ushered by over-awed staff to see King Forex.
He’d been hurried into a room to freshen up first, then escorted to the King.
Tor had tried to chat a little to put them at their ease, but that hadn’t helped, so he’d spent the last bit of the journey down the long stone corridors in silence, trying to ignore the sidelong looks that he was receiving, and resisting the impulse to guess what they were thinking and propose responses out loud.
Why, yes, he did look exactly like his brother.
Yes, when they were children, they’d passed themselves off as one another.
No, Tor had never done that once they were older or since his brother had been crowned, because impersonating the High King was illegal, and Tor’s brother had lost his sense of humor.
Yes, it was a long way from Alossa, but Tor was happy to visit each realm.
Yes, he was Exceptional, but otherwise, he was really a lot like any other person.
Did that cover everything?
He didn’t much like the goggling, but he’d been born to a position that set him apart from everyone else.
And it wasn’t fair to take his annoyance out on people who weren’t at fault.
This might be their first chance to see a High Prince, and while he could assure them it wasn’t as exciting as they thought, he knew it was meaningful to them.
So Tor smiled his most charming smile, and he ignored the occasional giggle, shortness of breath, or sudden need of a whole lot of staff to show up in every conceivable corridor on the way to the King.
And then they arrived at the throne room, which was neither as large nor quite as ostentatious as the one in Nexa, but otherwise clearly served the same purpose.
Tor strode across the stone floor with his head up and his conscience clear.
Sure, it wasn’t quite polite to show up without invitation, but he’d not done anything that would deserve the type of scolding Varex usually gave.
It was sort of refreshing to be visiting a king who wasn’t instantly disappointed in him.
Tor was pretty sure King Forex was about the same age as Nostex, and a bit older than the Vayrin queens, who were in their fifties.
Stronex was the youngest of the old guard, in his late forties.
But where Queens Sillexa and Margexa were a bit remote and Nostex was chatty, Forex just seemed…
old. Not even in physical age, really, but…
diminished, somehow. Tor wasn’t sure how to explain it, something he felt more than saw with his eyes.
They’d lived through a lot, he supposed. They’d gone to war, fought for years, and finally settled into this peace. Maybe it was hard to figure out what to do with yourself after that.
Tor’s impression that Forex was tired might also simply have been the fact that the man was slightly hunched over in his throne, like it was too much work to sit up straight.
(Or maybe Tor was just thinking about Varex and his perfect posture.) Forex hadn’t put on as much weight as Nostex had, but he no longer had the body of a warrior.
His dark brown hair was liberally sprinkled with white, and his slightly sallow face was bloated and heavily lined.
Tor could still see traces of the handsome man he must have been in his youth, but if Tor didn’t miss his guess, he drank a lot.
Tor could sympathize—but he also thought perhaps this was a warning of what Tor’s future could look like if he wasn’t careful.
Forex straightened marginally when Tor arrived in front of him, dark eyes assessing. Tor offered him a polite bow.
“King Forex, thank you for receiving me.”
The man offered an inclination of the head, which was a breach of etiquette, but Tor wasn’t his brother or his advisor, and he honestly didn’t care that much.
“High Prince Torex,” Forex said, his voice gruff. “How unexpected. What brings you all the way out to my little realm?”
There was an unmistakable dig in those words, but Tor couldn’t totally discount them.
His mother had been the one to propose the reshaping of each border when she hammered out the peace, and it was true Tor didn’t visit often.
There was no way he was going to confess that he felt hemmed in by the mountains that now marked the edges of this realm.
With his most charming grin firmly in place, Tor said, “Just that, Your Majesty. I realized it had been lamentably long since I was last here, and I was hoping to rectify that with a visit, if you’re amenable.”
It would have been way more polite to actually write first and secure an invitation, of course.
And more normal to arrive with a retinue.
Clearly, King Forex was thinking all these thoughts, because his eyes had narrowed a little, but Tor was still the High Prince.
Refusing him wasn’t particularly wise, not for a request like this.
Besides, just Tor meant fewer people to house and feed, so really, he was doing the man a favor.
“Of course, Your Highness,” Forex responded with an arctic smile that might have disturbed Tor if he wasn’t faced with the High King’s displeasure regularly.
“I thought I might spend a little time getting more acquainted with the realm,” Tor said cheerfully, like he’d just been given the warmest welcome.
“I should be more familiar with the geography, the history, and the current situation with the exiles and the border. All of that.” Tor waved a hand as if to encompass all of Tond.
“I don’t feel as knowledgeable as I should about every aspect of the United Realms.”
“My son can show you around,” the King said after a moment, calculation entering his gaze. “When his duties permit, of course.”
“Of course,” Tor replied placidly, wondering which son the King meant, and not sure how sharp a set-down he was being dealt until he saw how often he was left kicking his heels because the Prince had better things to do.
This was definitely going to be an adventure—but it wasn’t being trapped in a marriage with Terila, so he was fine with a defensive king and a snarky stable hand.
“You will have dinner with me and my family.” It was a cross between a question and a demand. “Not knowing to expect you, they are unfortunately not immediately available to greet you now.”
Tor waved this aside. “Oh, no, I definitely sprang upon you unannounced. I don’t mind waiting to be reintroduced. I think the last time I saw them was at Varex’s wedding, and that was far too long ago. Oh, and I believe Prince Bavil came for Princess Cala’s naming ceremony.”
The King nodded. “Yes. I was not feeling well, so he went in my stead.”
“I’m looking forward to getting to know him better,” Tor said politely. “And your other children, of course.”
Forex grunted at this.
Had they exhausted the possibilities of small talk?
“I look forward to dinner,” Tor tried.
King Forex waved his hand. “A servant will show you the way to the dining room.”
Tor offered another neat bow and happily accepted the dismissal.
He had a couple hours to pass, and he hadn’t exactly given a lot of thought to what he was going to do besides seduce a prince. He assumed that Terila and her parents would have pulled out all the stops to entertain him. It was part of why Tor had been so eager to get away.
No one had been expecting him here. Tor grinned to himself. Who knew what was going to happen.
Back in the hallway, Tor found that there was another servant waiting to show him to his rooms. She was a few years younger than Tor, he thought.
Mid-twenties, maybe. She had pale skin and dark blond hair that was neatly bound up in braids and coiled around her head.
She was dressed in gray, as all the servants seemed to be, but she had a lot of lovely curves, and her eyes were a piercing gray that seemed only to be enhanced by the dress.
Her expression wasn’t quite no-nonsense, but he didn’t think she suffered fools.
“This way, Your Highness,” the woman said, gesturing.
It was impossible to both walk deferentially behind someone and lead the way, so Tor solved the dilemma by simply walking beside her and trusting that she would direct him.
Sure enough, with a “Just here, Your Highness,” she directed him where he needed to go, rather than leaving him to head off into the depths of the building, never to be heard from again. Whoever had built this castle must have liked mazes.
“I apologize if I’ve put you to any trouble to get everything prepared so quickly,” Tor said. “I know I arrived a little unexpectedly.”
“Not at all, Your Highness,” the woman said politely.
Tor couldn’t blame her for not wanting to tell a prince to his face that he was a nuisance, but he was pretty sure that the stable hand would have told him exactly what he thought of him. He suppressed a chuckle.