Chapter Nine #2
If it was a ploy, Pel had to admit that it was an alluring one.
And could it be a ploy, if you were actually doing what you said?
When Pel checked in with everyone, he found that there was no hint of impropriety—that had been his other worry, that the man was actually just out looking for conquests—and Torex had simply listened to their concerns, proposed solutions if he had any, and taken note of broader issues.
He was polite but honest if he thought the problem didn’t belong at the High Court, and he clearly laid out that issues would have to be dealt with systematically, and once the entirety of the United Realms was involved, things might not move quickly—or at all, in some cases.
“He said that the United Realms as a whole was quite complicated,” one of the village women confided to Pel. “I can’t imagine having to look after Tond, never mind all the realms! But it was nice to be able to talk about it just the same.”
That was exactly why Pel did what he did, checking in with everyone and trying to come up with solutions where he could. Sometimes, just the act of being heard helped.
With a little twinge of discomfort, he conceded that Prince Torex had been at least a little right when he’d claimed that Pel was upset about the overlap with his own role. Now that he knew they could both do it, he couldn’t decide if he was annoyed or not.
How could he rationally be upset that they weren’t in conflict?
How could he want anything except what was best for his people?
Even if Prince Torex never followed through, he’d warned them there might not be changes so they wouldn’t get their hopes up.
He’d made them feel important and heard, not just here in Tond, but now in the United Realms more widely.
Just like how Pel tried to help and never imply that his father didn’t care about them.
It was rather disconcerting to find that he had something in common with the High Prince. He was used to thinking of them as complete opposites. It had been simpler when he could just hate him.
And he had a terrible feeling that he’d been blaming Torex for not noticing him at the same time that he tried to go unnoticed. Maybe he’d had a point at first, but Torex was actively trying to spend time with him now, and it was Pel who was refusing.
Did he really want to be that petty?
Sighing to himself, butterflies dancing in his stomach, Pel found the other man in the stables, where he regularly visited Melody—Pel couldn’t fault him for his care of the animal.
Pel cleared his throat and addressed his words to the horse. “It would be less disruptive to the farmers and villagers if we were to interrupt them at the same time.”
If Prince Torex no longer wanted to spend time with Pel, then he would no doubt suggest they simply ensure they never overlapped on who they visited.
Only Prince Torex did seem to want to spend time with Pel because when Pel glanced at him, he was grinning broadly. Not even smugly, just… happy? The butterflies fluttered harder, and Pel mentally told them to give it a rest.
“Shall I meet you here tomorrow morning?” Torex suggested.
There didn’t seem to be anything to do but agree. And then leave, because the butterflies apparently didn’t take directions, and Pel didn’t know how to make them go away.
This was not spending time together simply because they wanted to spend time together. It wasn’t walking in the garden, listening to untold amounts of music on the pianoforte, walking in the portrait gallery, or any of the other frivolous pastimes that Bavil and Larexa were engaging in.
No, this was purely practical. Pel needed to treat it as purely practical, and that meant that he needed to get rid of these butterflies and treat tomorrow like a totally ordinary day.
Because it would be.
Nothing had changed.
Tor
Tor was still excited about the prospect of spending more time with Pelun and not being ignored, but the last thing he expected was to run into him in a corridor that afternoon—and be punched in the face.
It was a good blow, making Tor stagger back several steps and clap a hand to his jaw.
“What the—” he started, but Pelun was already coming after him again.
Tor didn’t hit back, since he didn’t have the slightest idea what was going on, but he blocked him, unwilling to be someone’s punching dummy.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked.
Pelun just kept coming, and in exasperation, Tor finally let his magic flow out of him, bursting forth in a soft white glow until it settled into a shimmering, translucent dome that Pelun couldn’t possibly get out of.
Normally, Tor would feel bad about doing this to someone Unremarkable, but Pelun was attacking Tor for no reason.
“Oh, yes!” Pelun snarled, sending a blow at the shield anyway, even though it didn’t give and would definitely hurt his hand. “Just hide behind your magic!”
“I’m not hiding behind my magic,” Tor said through gritted teeth. “I’m trying to stop myself from beating you to a bloody pulp.”
“I’d like to see you try!” Pelun growled.
Tor sucked in a breath and then blew it out. No one said that in this situation unless they were incensed, and Tor couldn’t imagine what he’d done to merit such a reaction.
“Why don’t you tell me why you decided I needed to be attacked?” Tor suggested as reasonably as he could, given that his jaw hurt and the man that he’d pinned all his hopes of avoiding marital disaster on was currently trying to shove through his magic shield with sheer stubbornness.
Fists still banging against the shield, causing little pulses of awareness in Tor’s core, Pelun glared at him and demanded, “Do you think you can just wander around everywhere ruining people’s lives?”
“It’s not my intention to ruin any lives,” Tor assured him.
Hence this asinine plan, so that he and Terila wouldn’t wind up bonded and miserable for the rest of their lives.
“You can’t just lay your hands on whoever you want!” Pelun yelled. “Did you even think about what she wanted? Just because you’re Extraordinary and you’re the High Prince doesn’t mean that you can just take what you want!”
Tor digested this angry diatribe.
Carefully, he said, “I don’t actually disagree with anything you just said. So why don’t you tell me who ‘she’ is, and we’ll see if I have any idea of what you’re talking about.”
Pelun’s lips settled into an even tighter line, and Tor wondered if maybe this was just a response that he engendered in people, something that he hadn’t known about himself. Perhaps it was the flip side of being so charming.
“Are there so many that you can’t keep track?” Pelun demanded in disgust. “Don’t think I won’t throw you out, magic or no magic!”
He was still pushing back against the shield, and Tor definitely had to admire the determination, even if the effort was useless.
“Could you please start at the beginning?” he requested. “I can’t respond to your accusations if I don’t understand them.”
Pelun was still looking at him with stark suspicion in his eyes, and a hard anger that made him look much fiercer than usual.
“Lashuna!” he spat out, finally. “She already has a partner, did you know that? Or did you just not care?”
Oh. Oh. Tor didn’t know whether to laugh or hit his head against the wall. This was definitely not how Tor had hoped to get Pelun’s attention.
Varex and Rin would say that it served him right, and Tor supposed it did. Would they allow for extenuating circumstances?
Tor took several deep breaths, trying to decide what he could and should explain to this particular man.
“First of all,” Tor said, “did you actually talk to her, or did you just leap to conclusions?”
“What is there to talk about?” Pelun demanded, still hammering against the shield with his bare fists. He was going to wind up with bruised knuckles.
“In this particular instance, what actually happened would be what you’d talk about. I’d explain it, but it’s not my story to tell.”
Pelun scoffed.
“No, seriously.” Tor met those angry brown eyes squarely.
“I can tell you that you’ve got the completely wrong end of the stick, and while I’d like nothing better than to set you emphatically straight, that’s not my right.
Now, if I let you out, will you go talk to Lashuna instead of making an ass of yourself? ”
Pelun was still glaring. “You know that I can’t do anything while I’m stuck like this.”
“If you would like to be treated better,” Tor said acidly, “then try treating others better first.”
“That’s rich coming from you!” Pelun snapped.
Tor raised an eyebrow.
After a moment where he was clearly still fuming, Pelun lowered his fists and ground out, “Fine.”
Hoping he wasn’t about to get jumped, Tor pulled his magic back into himself, but he kept it just below his skin, though without manifesting the swirls of magic that would make it clear he was braced for attack.
Pelun just stood there for a long moment, hands still clenched at his sides, chest heaving. Tor watched him carefully, not about to turn his back.
After a long standoff, Pelun turned abruptly and stalked off, still radiating tension in every line of his body. Tor watched him go and wondered if Pelun was ever going to speak to him again.
Even once this got straightened out, didn’t it say an awful lot about what Pelun thought of him?
Ugh. Tor needed a drink. Then he grimaced. He hadn’t started dealing with his problems by drinking, had he? A smirk curled up his lips. No, clearly not. If he dealt with his problems by drinking, then he’d have spent his entire time as drunk as King Forex. Pelun was a problem with a capital P.
No, it was just habit to think that drinking an ale—or twelve—would make it easier to work out what to do next. It might feel wonderful in the moment, but the fuzziness didn’t actually solve anything, and the head the next morning was terrible.
He couldn’t imagine dealing with King Forex when he was hungover. The man got louder and more strident the more he drank—and he drank a lot.