Chapter Twelve #3
Torex shook his head. “No. We couldn’t bring them back for their families.”
Pel nodded. “So bear with me. The mountain acts as a kind of barrier between the United Realms and the exiles, right?”
“Right,” Torex agreed, frowning.
“Forex and Nostex retained all the mining rights, but we’re meant to leave the exiles unsupervised, unprotected, and under their own rule on their side of the mountain. We’re not meant to spy on them or raid them or any of that.”
“Which is why you’ve never seen what their land is like.” Torex’s voice was tight. “Because you listened to all the rules.”
Ugh, why did he keep hearing insults?
“No, listen,” Pel insisted. “You were in the foothills in Filon?”
Torex nodded, face shadowed. “Yes, the raiding party came down the mountain.”
“And you sent guards up into the mountains after the survivors. And none of them came back.”
Not looking at him, Torex said, “Yes.”
“So, the thing is,” Pel pointed out, “you don’t know where they died. Or how they died. Perhaps they ran into exiles on our side of the mountain. You don’t know if they actually crossed into exile territory before they were killed.”
Prince Torex goggled at him. “But—”
“Maybe the routed exiles started back. Maybe the guards stopped them from attacking again. Maybe there was a landslide. You know the mountains have those. Or they fell in the dark.”
Torex shot him a look. “All twelve of them?”
Pel tried to press his point. “I just mean you don’t know. No one knows, because they all died.”
Voice thick, Torex said, “Regardless, they died because of me.”
Pel frowned, “It will always be a terrible mistake. You did issue that order. But I don’t think it’s as simple as you’ve made it sound. Just something to think about, all right?”
Pel didn’t know what was going to happen when Torex went back to Nexa and the High Court, but if Pel could lighten some of this load of guilt, he absolutely would.
He was also sure the drinking wouldn’t help.
He gathered up both bottles from the bedside cabinet, then headed across the room for the third and fourth. He balanced them in his arms with the half-full glass Torex had been drinking from. Torex could always ask for more alcohol, but making it that bit less accessible didn’t hurt.
The only person who could actually stop Torex from drinking was Torex—and if he was to be believed, he was at least going to try.
Pel really hoped so. He hadn’t been lying when he said he liked the other man better when he didn’t drink.
“Will you be feeling well enough to come tomorrow, if I delay going out until then?” Pel asked.
“I’ll be there.”
Pel startled and turned around quickly, the glass sloshing but not quite spilling in his hand. The voice had come from a lot closer than he’d anticipated, and sure enough, Torex was right there.
He took a step forward, and Pel backed up until he hit the wall.
Torex took yet another step closer until they were standing right in front of one another, and Pel could feel the heat radiating from the man.
Pel swallowed. He could smell the alcohol on Torex’s breath, but he was also aware of the thinness of the nightshirt and the brightness of the man’s eyes as they fastened onto Pel’s and didn’t look away.
The alcohol, Pel reminded himself, but he felt kind of breathless anyway.
“I wouldn’t, if I were sober,” Torex told him, and then he was leaning in, sealing his lips over Pel’s.
Pel’s whole body froze. Torex was kissing him, his lips surprisingly soft and warm.
He licked into Pel’s mouth, and Pel groaned and opened for him, though he tasted too much like alcohol.
The kiss was scorching, Torex’s skin was scorching, and Pel felt like he was going to combust. It was amazing—and kind of awkward because Pel was still holding an armful of bottles and a glass of alcohol.
Because this was a terrible idea. They shouldn’t start anything while Torex had been drinking. Was he even in his right mind at the moment? He’d never given the slightest indication when he was sober that he was interested in Pel like this.
In fact, hadn’t he said something about that before he’d kissed Pel?
It took a tremendous amount of effort to focus on the memory instead of the lush feeling of Torex’s kisses, the warm grip of his hands, one cupping Pel’s jaw, one on his hip.
But he remembered the sound of his voice, remembered the brightness of his eyes, remembered that his mouth had moved before it had pressed itself to Pel’s. He’d said—
And then Pel pushed at the other man, not even remembering that he was holding the cup or the bottles, sloshing alcohol over both of them, but the only important thing was to shove the other man away.
After a stunned moment, where he couldn’t seem to figure out what was happening, Torex did indeed stumble backwards.
Because he’d told Pel right before kissing him that it wasn’t something he would have done if he were sober.
The man still had a shocked look on his face when he stopped moving, listing slightly to one side because Pel had shoved him hard enough to send him reeling. Good.
Pel sucked in one breath, then another, and still felt remarkably as though he were going to cry. That was absurd, so he dashed the rest of the contents of the glass into the man’s face and then turned and fled from the room.
He raced down several corridors, taking the turns blindly, just needing to get away. He finally stopped, his heart was racing, and realized he was still clutching all the bottles of alcohol.
For just a moment, he teetered on the edge of taking a drink himself, just swigging it out of the bottle.
That fuzziness Torex had talked about sounded incredibly appealing right now.
But following Torex’s or his father’s example also seemed incredibly foolish.
And he wasn’t sure how his churning stomach would react to the alcohol anyway.
Not knowing what else to do, he took the bottles back to the steward.
Tramili had a long scar down the left side of their face, pale against their warm brown skin.
It pulled at the corner of their eye and mouth, making them look grim, but they had never been anything but unfailingly calm and efficient.
Pel was pretty sure the castle would fall apart without them.
Now in their forties, they’d managed the castle for over a decade, since the previous steward had retired.
They didn’t seem surprised, somehow, that Pel was delivering a bunch of the alcohol that Prince Torex had been drinking. And the glass he was still holding, though it was empty now. Pel always got the feeling they must have seen a lot in the war, but he’d never felt it appropriate to ask.
Pel had to swallow before he could speak. “Prince Torex is finished with these.”
“Certainly, Your Highness,” Tramili said calmly. “Let me take those for you.”
Pel handed them over, grateful to release the responsibility. He nodded his thanks, then headed down to the stables because getting far, far away from the castle was exactly what he wanted right now.
“The High Prince isn’t coming?” one of the stable hands asked.
Pel recognized him after a moment as the one Torex had slept with. He barely managed not to laugh hysterically in the man’s face. Or tell him that if he went up to the Prince’s room, he would probably come after all.
“No, he’s not coming this time,” Pel said with what he thought was an expert amount of control.
He had lots of practice with his father saying cutting things while he was drunk.
He wasn’t sure why this was bothering him so much.
Scattered memories drifted through his mind.
Princess Terila dismissing him after hearing his name, without even being willing to get to know him.
Larexa saying that only someone Extraordinary would do for her, and their father agreeing that of course she deserved the very best. Bavil laughing with their father over the squandered courtship and Marwila and Gornexi “overreaction” to Bavil’s “misstep.” Torex, who wouldn’t have kissed Pel if he weren’t drunk.
Once his horse was saddled—he let someone who wasn’t having an emotional crisis do it—he mounted quickly and set off at a trot. Upon reaching the road, he nudged Extraordinary into a gallop.
His vision blurred. All Pel could think was that it would be safe if only he could get far enough away that no one could find him.
Maybe you couldn’t run away from yourself, but you could definitely run away from High Princes and all the absurd feelings they had no right to make you feel.