Chapter Ten
Tor
Tor slept poorly that night, too excited about the idea of actually joining Pelun on one of his outings.
It was silly, really. This was them performing their duty, not tumbling into bed together.
This wasn’t going to be the stuff that romantic poems were made of…
but it was still the most progress Tor had made.
(Tor would never confess to anyone how badly he’d bungled this.)
He rose early and made himself slow down in his ablutions after he nicked himself twice in the first minute of attempting to shave. He chided himself for being a fool after he considered dressing in his fanciest tunic.
Pelun would just think he was trying to show off again—or he might accurately guess that Tor had designs on him, and, unfortunately, that still seemed likely to send him storming off rather than get him into Tor’s bed.
A couple days ago, Tor reminded himself, the man had punched him in the face because he thought Tor had had his way with an unwilling woman.
Tor was still impressed that Pelun had put the protection of his servants over any consideration of Tor’s status…
but it was a bit sobering to know that Tor had made so few inroads into Pelun’s poor impression of him.
Still, though, Pelun had learned the truth, and he was willing to meet today.
Tor was going to focus only on the positive.
He was also going to curtail even his reasonable encounters with people.
It somehow hadn’t occurred to him that he might need to account for himself to Pelun.
He wasn’t ashamed of his actions, but he could suddenly see how it didn’t lend credence to the idea that he was here intending to court someone.
Now that he was finally getting to spend some time with Pelun, he really didn’t want to mess this up.
Plus, it had occurred to him that his stickler of a brother might even consider his time with Lashuna and her partner to break the “no orgy” order.
Tor would be willing to argue until he was blue in the face that his one act with them didn’t resemble an orgy in the slightest, but Varex might see it differently.
Tor couldn’t risk jeopardizing everything.
He knew full well how his brother and Yomil would react if he tried to explain that he’d genuinely been attempting to be helpful.
Dressed, Tor managed not to spill any food on himself while he ate. He forced himself to slow down again. He was up early, and he was being ridiculous.
He headed out to the garden for a brisk walk, and it was apparently early enough that he didn’t “accidentally bump into” Larexa or Bavil. (They all just waggled their eyebrows at one another at this point. It was ridiculous.)
The goddess knew that Tor needed something to be amused about.
And then he found his feet had led him all the way to the stables. Still way too early. But the good thing about stables was that there was always something to be done, and Tor was soon mucking out stalls, which at least kept him occupied.
So, it maybe wasn’t an ideal task right before he went off with the man he was trying to impress, but it was too late for that now. And this way, Tor could pretend Pelun’s reluctance was a result of the smell.
Tor smirked to himself, just imagining how Rin would tell him that he was grasping at straws.
He still felt better for having actually done some work, and it ensured that the time passed without him being really aware of it.
He straightened as he heard Pelun call out, “Is Prince Torex here yet?”
Did he sound a little hopeful, like he thought that Tor wasn’t going to show?
He tried to brush wisps of hay off himself. Yes, this was going to go great.
“Yes, Your Highness,” someone responded. “He’s been mucking out Extraordinary’s stall.”
Tor tried to appear nonchalant as Pelun appeared at the stall door. He looked suspicious. Again.
Default expression, Tor reminded himself.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Mucking out the stall,” Tor repeated, since he didn’t have a better answer than that.
Pelun continued to look at him strangely, but Torex took the towel that one of the stable hands had ambled along to give him, and he wiped himself clean so he could pull his tunic back on.
“Why Extraordinary’s stall?” Pelun demanded.
Tor pointed towards the stable hand. “He said it was the next in need of a good cleaning. I had some time this morning.”
Because he’d been over an hour early and hadn’t wanted to admit it. He hoped that no one gave him away or mentioned the two other stalls he’d done before this.
“We’ve got Extraordinary saddled for you,” one of the hands called out, and Pelun nodded his thanks.
It took Tor a moment to process that, and then he realized that Pelun had been suspicious because Tor had been inadvertently taking care of his horse. And then he realized—
“You named your horse Extraordinary?”
Belatedly, he realized that this was probably a touchy topic.
The tips of Pelun’s ears went red, but he shrugged and said, “It seemed like the best idea when I was young.” He swallowed visibly. “I’d never encountered a more amazing creature.”
Aww. Tor felt his heart melt a little. Pelun wouldn’t have known, then, that he would be Unremarkable, but he’d kept the name—and the horse—and was gazing straight at Tor, just daring him to make a comment.
So instead of making a big deal about the fact that the other man was adorable, Tor tried a little bit of reciprocal information instead.
“My… old horse, Monster, is so named because he thinks that he’s the most fearsome horse who ever existed. Which somehow means eating a lot of treats. Melody, on the other hand, likes to dance.”
An eyebrow rose sharply. “Likes to dance?”
Tor nodded. “The next time there’s music playing, I’ll show you.”
Pelun looked unconvinced but a bit intrigued. Tor would take it. He was learning—belatedly—that this man did not like to be led. He needed to find his own way and form his own opinion, which took patience. Come on too strong—well, come on too strong, and he’d probably get another punch in the jaw.
They mounted up, Pelun still looking at Melody like he was wondering exactly how a horse could dance. It wasn’t quite the same as wondering about Tor, but it was Tor-adjacent. And not negative. He’d take it.
Pelun chose the direction, and Tor nudged Melody to fall in at his side without complaint. It had become abundantly clear to Tor that Pelun liked to be in control of his own life. Tor could think he was being helpful, but Pelun would see it as the High Prince taking over and being an ass.
Tor hoped they could get to a point where Pelun didn’t just see his title, but they definitely weren’t there yet.
And he had been an ass, assuming he could sweep in here and sweep Pelun off his feet instantly.
It had been incredibly arrogant, even if much of Tor’s life up to this point had been the basis for his assumption.
His entire future was riding on this outcome… but at the same time, he found that he relished the challenge. No one had ever made him work so hard before, and it was sort of like he’d come up against a worthy opponent unexpectedly.
Not that he thought it was beneficial to think of Pelun as an opponent, except that he was pretty sure that Pelun considered him that way.
But they were out riding together, doing something Pelun cared about, and that gave Tor hope.
They rode along in silence, and since small talk, flirting, and compliments had all gone badly for Tor, he didn’t try to break it.
It wasn’t easy, at first. Tor was accustomed to breaking in with a joke or story or at least a charming smile.
He was the one who kept morale up with the guard or staved off boredom with Rin—or wanted to test if their avatar could pull a carriage, once he and Var had Manifested in their teens.
(The answer was, sadly, no. They could manifest a human-like figure, various shield-like shapes, other small shapes for light or ropes…
but they couldn’t make a horse-shaped being and ride pure magic or have it pull their carriage.
They’d both been incredibly disappointed.
Tor still wasn’t sure why it wasn’t possible, but that was magic for you.)
They made it to the first farm without having spoken a single word, but while there was a bit of tension, it hadn’t been overwhelming—and since there’d been tension in every encounter they’d had so far, it might have been stranger if they’d been completely comfortable with one another.
Besides, they were going to have to talk—if not to one another, then at least to the people they were visiting. At least Tor would be present for that.
A weathered, wiry woman with graying hair, tan skin, and pale blue eyes greeted them and sent someone off to call in those in the fields even after Tor assured her he didn’t want to interrupt their work.
“It’s no problem at all, Your Highness.” She gave an awkward bow and then glanced between Pelun and Tor. “Your High Highness. No problem at all.”
Tor bit back a laugh, not wanting to seem as though he was mocking the woman.
Varex would have loved Your High Highness—once upon a time, anyway.
A dull ache panged in his heart, and he tried not to think about how much he missed his brother, the one he couldn’t find even when they were in the same room these days.
“Prince Torex or Your Highness is fine.” He winked at her. “My brother scolds me if I ask people to just call me Torex.”
That sort of familiarity had never bothered Tor, but he’d realized early on that it could badly fluster people.
“Prince Torex,” she agreed, bobbing another bow. “We’ve got ale or fella-root, and I made bread this morning.”