Chapter Seven #2
“We will have drinks,” the King declared abruptly, throwing down his napkin. “Larexa, leave us.”
“Oh, I would be happy to have Princess Larexa join us,” Tor offered.
The King glared at him from under bushy eyebrows and repeated, “Drinks. Larexa doesn’t mind.”
“Indeed not, Father, Prince Torex,” she assured them with a gracious smile. “Take your time.”
She left, and when Tor turned back to the table, Forex and Pelun were both glaring, and Bavil looked as though he was trying to look relaxed with only marginal success.
Tor hadn’t meant to upset the daily order; he’d simply been trying to be polite.
Decanters were brought from the sideboard, and another liveried servant was at hand to pour.
Tor’s attempt to decline didn’t go unobserved.
“Not drinking?” Forex said sharply. “My cellar is excellent.”
“I don’t doubt your cellar, Your Highness. Rather the opposite. My brother is under the impression that I drink too much.”
Forex stared at him for a moment and then made a scoffing sound. “And do you always listen to your brother?”
“When he’s the High King, it’s rather a requirement,” Tor acknowledged ruefully. “I would be happy to keep you company.”
Tor wasn’t absolutely certain that he’d made the right choice about obeying his brother and not drinking, but given the amount of alcohol that had been consumed at dinner, he knew that he had to either enter wholeheartedly into his brother’s asinine requirements or he was likely to be lost in a drunken haze the rest of the time he was here.
Though there seemed to be a strong chance that he was going to be bored out of his mind, he’d rather ensure that there was nothing for his brother to object to.
Tor would be able to demonstrate how he’d adhered to the letter of each of the orders.
So here he was, watching other people drink while he abstained.
There was a word that no one would normally associate with him. Maybe he was growing as a person.
“You must drink something,” the King declared. Doubtfully, he suggested, “Water? Tea? Milk?”
“Water would be fine. Thank you.”
A servant was sent to retrieve the water, apparently not a beverage that was normally on hand, and then they all sipped their drinks—or came closer to gulping them—and made very little effort to have any conversation.
Pelun was still glowering. The King was drinking steadily and regarding Tor with narrowed eyes, as though he were trying to figure out why Tor was really here.
Tor somehow didn’t think it would be very convincing to claim that he’d conceived a passion for Pelun and come here to court him.
Pelun could certainly put the lie to that if he mentioned that Tor hadn’t recognized him.
No, better to stick with wanting to get to know the realm better and then have the courtship unfold naturally. The first couple days would be the most awkward, but it would improve from there. Surely.
Staring down at his glass of water, Tor reflected wryly that it could scarcely get any worse.
It looked like Forex could probably stay and drink for hours, and the more he drank, the more loquacious he became.
Forex still had some resentment towards Bessar—and Alossa, though Bavil always tried to swiftly turn that aside, and Forex would peer at Tor and seem to remember who he was talking to.
It was true that the rulers of Bessar before Gornexi’s parents had invaded Tond and killed Forex’s parents and precipitated the war.
But Forex hadn’t been content with anything except taking over the entire realm in retaliation, and that had pulled Filon and then Vayrin in as the neighboring countries, and before they knew it, the realms had been at war.
If Tor hadn’t been aware already, he was definitely well informed by the end of the first dinner that Forex believed Tond and Bessar should have been combined into one realm that he ruled.
The Fealty of the people of Bessar had passed to Gornexi’s parents during the war, and when Tor’s mother had finally been able to negotiate for peace, she’d refused to punish the new rulers for something they hadn’t done.
Apparently, Forex hadn’t gotten over that.
He also had feelings about the fact that Vayrin had managed to marry into Gornexi’s family before Tond had made the attempt.
But it must have been a good five years since Gornexi had married Somila, and Larexa would have been, what, fifteen or sixteen?
Tor squinted. He couldn’t entirely remember, but he was pretty sure she’d still been Lara then and hadn’t yet Manifested.
Tor didn’t know about Bessar, but he wouldn’t have been anxious to marry his heir to anyone from Tond at that point—though they were all supposed to be preserving the peace and intermarrying to show how they’d put the past behind them.
Tor would prefer to avoid all of the intrigue.
It was probably not more than an hour before they were finally all able to go join Larexa, but it felt like a lot longer.
She’d been reading when they arrived in the well-appointed sitting room, but she set her book aside and rose to her feet when they entered. Tor offered her a bow, and the King instructed her to play something to entertain them.
“Prince Torex, you can turn the pages for her.”
“I can play something from memory,” Larexa offered, “so that Prince Torex need not be put to work.”
“Nonsense!” the King snapped at the same time that Tor said, “I’d be happy to be of service.”
Larexa bowed to their combined efforts and went to sit behind the pianoforte, where Tor joined her. She rifled through the options and then placed one in front.
“I don’t really need the music,” she told him softly.
“Good,” he whispered back. “Because I don’t read it.”
She turned laughing eyes to his. “Really?”
“I didn’t have the patience for it,” he admitted with a grin. “There were so many more interesting things to do. Our tutors agreed that I didn’t possess any natural talent, and I might have been rather more talented at avoiding lessons. Eventually, they gave up.”
“Larexa!”
She began to play at her father’s sharp call, and Tor could tell immediately that she was an accomplished musician. She didn’t so much as glance at the music, and she carried on their conversation as though what her fingers were doing wasn’t important at all.
“But do you not find it a disadvantage in situations like these?” she asked.
He shrugged. “Many are skilled enough to play without music—though not, I think, quite as skilled as you.” She smiled at the compliment.
“No one likes to blame a prince, so if there is faltering in the playing, they always take the blame. And if I confess my shortcoming, then the player in question will kindly prompt me when it’s time to turn the page, and no one need ever know the truth. ”
She let out a soft laugh, low and musical. “I see that you’ve thought this through.”
“I’ve made it this far without learning to read music. I’m committed to my course,” he agreed staunchly.
“If you would like to maintain the illusion, you may turn the page now.”
Tor did so, and the music continued.
Looking about the room, Tor observed that everyone had sat about as far away from anyone else as it was possible to get. The King, drinking again, was seated by the fire. (He should clearly have a servant follow him around with a decanter.)
Pelun had picked the darkest, most remote corner of the room, by the closed window. Tor had the feeling that had the curtains been open, he would have been staring moodily out.
Bavil had seated himself at a small grouping of chairs that were facing the piano.
“Are you banished here every night while the men drink?” Tor asked curiously.
A bemused smile tipped up the corner of her lips. “Banished? Hardly. I don’t need to be present when my family is drinking, I assure you.” She cast him a faintly sly look. “And we are on company manners.”
Tor laughed. “I apologize.”
“Flip,” she said, and after a moment, he recalled his task and turned the page.
Her fingers continued to flow across the keys as though they had a mind of their own. They were long and slender and possessed a dexterity and skill that Tor couldn’t imagine.
“Everyone is trying to figure out why you’re here,” she said conversationally. “I have the feeling it’s going to be highly entertaining.”
“Can’t a prince just want to visit every realm, especially if it’s been a while?” Tor asked flippantly.
“Certainly, you may,” she answered easily. “But you might have difficulty convincing everyone that it’s your altogether innocent whim.”
He made a face, waggling his eyebrows. “Oh, am I here for nefarious purposes, do you think?”
She laughed outright, a bright peal of sound that had everyone looking at them. The King looked pleased, Bavil looked curious, and Pelun was… glowering. No surprise there.
“That certainly sounds like it would be the most interesting option for us,” she told him, still smiling.
He quirked an eyebrow. “I’m not sure you know what ‘nefarious’ means.”
“Not boring,” she said promptly.
He laughed and conceded, “I grant you. I’ll endeavor to be neither boring nor nefarious, shall I?”
“That would be an acceptable compromise,” she agreed magnanimously.
He couldn’t help but grin at her again, charmed by her spirit.
If Larexa was the one that he was supposed to be courting, he wouldn’t have the slightest concern about his success. He could definitely attest to the fact that spending time in his bed wasn’t boring—or nefarious.
But she was still younger than he liked. Just because they got along in the moment didn’t mean they’d be well suited to being bonded until they died. He really did like her attitude, though.
“I’d like to speak to your brother for a couple of minutes. Does this particular song come to an end?”
She chuckled again. “It certainly could. I’ll ask for a tea tray to be brought in, and that will explain why you need to venture forth and speak to someone else. Ready?”
Entertained, Tor agreed, “Ready.”
“And we’ll be done in three… two… one!”