Chapter Thirteen #3
“Through your magic, of course,” Tor said simply. “If you don’t want to do anything physical, you don’t have to. If you’re magically stronger than your opponent, you can overcome them. You know how few Extraordinary there are.”
It was estimated that Extraordinary made up less than a fraction of a percent of the population. Illustrious were under three percent, and the vast majority of people were Unremarkable. It was all carefully registered when people were Presented to their ruler after they Manifested.
“Do you really think someone would attack me?” Larexa was frowning.
Tor shrugged. “I’d sleep better at night if I knew that in the unlikely event someone did, you could defend yourself.”
She eyed him speculatively. “You want music lessons?”
“No,” he responded immediately.
She raised an eyebrow sharply. “But it would be good for you. It would increase the dexterity of your fingers and your mind—and it would mean that you didn’t have to fake it the next time some poor person asks you to turn the pages for them while they’re playing the piano.”
And all Tor could do was laugh. “You drive a hard bargain. Very well; I accept your terms. If you’ll try to learn defense, I’ll try to learn music.”
He didn’t want music lessons even a little, but it would be worth it to know that Larexa was safer.
Varex really had been the more obedient twin. Not only had he taken his music lessons as a child, he’d allowed Tor to bribe him so that he took Tor’s for a while, too, until their mother figured it out and finally agreed that he was unteachable.
He’d have to see whether he or Larexa was more stubborn.
“Just, uh, give me a few days to figure out where things stand with your brother, and then we can start lessons, all right?”
“Good luck,” she told him. “Pel’s very stubborn.”
Yes, Tor had rather gotten that impression.
Tor was up too early after taking too long to fall asleep, but he was filled with determination to apologize.
It was so early, though, that after he swung by the kitchen for breakfast—and relit all the lamps, which he’d taken to doing daily—he then did a circuit of the guards on duty just to see how they were doing.
Bavil normally did this, but Tor figured it couldn’t hurt.
Then he made his way out to the stables and threw himself into cleaning more stalls, because at least that kept his body busy.
It was only once he emerged from the most recent stall that he realized his plan had had a fatal flaw. While he’d been busy, Pelun had come, retrieved Extraordinary, and left.
The way the stable hand wouldn’t meet his eye told Tor in no uncertain terms that the slight had been deliberate.
Tor made himself flash a grin and say, “Looks like the Prince prefers to be on his own today. I wouldn’t want Melody to be dressed up all pretty with nowhere to go, though, so I’ll take him out.”
Tor imagined rumors would spread as soon as he left, but Tor had no one to blame but himself. He rubbed at his chest as though that could fix the unsettled feeling inside, and urged Melody into a gallop as soon as they were clear of the stable.
Tor had been under the impression that he was a reasonably charming man. He couldn’t quite decide if everyone had just been humoring him because he was the High Prince or if Pelun was particularly resistant.
Not that messing up as badly as Tor had done had helped.
And the thing was, Tor was going to leave. At the end of the day, he’d go back to Alossa. Pelun was the one who was stuck here, and he didn’t deserve to be gossiped about.
Tor had to fix this. He’d leave if Pelun wanted him to, and if they couldn’t part as friends, Tor would make sure one way or the other that everyone knew that Tor was the problem. He didn’t know what he’d do about Terila, but he couldn’t make Pelun feel unsafe or unhappy in his home.
But to do that, he needed to talk to Pelun, who’d already demonstrated adeptness at avoiding him.
Tor made sure to ride back to the stables in good time, and then he unashamedly lurked.
He gave all the horses an extra apple or carrot and pet their velvety noises, and then he mucked out Extraordinary’s stall.
It was already clean, but he felt better for doing something. None of the stable hands were willing to argue with a prince, which Tor appreciated today. When he’d finished that, he felt way too antsy to sit still, and he finally took to pacing, making the horses snort at him and eye him doubtfully.
He sprang to attention when Pelun finally rode into the stables. He checked at the sight of Tor just standing there, because Tor hadn’t been smart enough to try to look like he’d been busy.
Pelun dismounted and led Extraordinary to her stall, where he proceeded to groom her despite the stable hand who said he’d be happy to do it. Tor also popped his head in and offered assistance.
“I am not interested in your help.”
Well. That was clear.
Tor leaned up against the outside of the stall, out of the way but still present.
Pelun took his time—but to be fair, he always groomed Extraordinary with care.
Finally, the mare was happily settled, and Pelun emerged from the stall. He didn’t look surprised to see Tor, but he definitely didn’t look delighted, either.
“Could I talk to you for a few minutes?” Tor asked carefully.
“Fine,” Pelun said stiffly. It was the voice that Tor remembered from their early encounters, when he was displeased with everything Tor did.
He hadn’t realized just how much more at ease Pelun had sounded until the old tension was back.
All Tor’s fault, he reminded himself.
Strain clear in every line of his body, Pelun led the way to the garden and then to one of the more secluded paths.
They walked for several minutes in silence until they passed a set of hedges that hid them from the castle.
“Well?” Pelun demanded.
Tor felt remarkably tongue-tied, but this was his chance. He sucked in a breath and made himself talk.
“I’m really sorry about what happened yesterday.”
It seemed to be the safest way to start.
“Fine,” Pelun said tightly.
It didn’t sound fine.
“Truly,” Tor said earnestly, in case the other man didn’t think he was serious. “I shouldn’t have been drinking like that, and I really appreciate that you came after me—I can’t tell you how much. Which makes my poor behavior even more inexcusable. I’m so sorry. I hope that you can forgive me.”
“I said it was fine.”
This was a whole sentence out of the other man, but each word was clipped.
“I assure you it won’t ever happen again. I won’t be drinking anymore,” Tor hastened to assure him.
Pelun scoffed, the sound angry and raw.
Tor felt like he was making the situation worse, but he genuinely didn’t know what else he could do or say.
Did Pelun not trust him now? Did he think because Tor had messed up and started drinking once that he couldn’t be trusted not to do so again?
Tor didn’t know how to prove that except with time.
“Is there something I can do to make this better?” he asked quietly.
Pelun turned towards him, his eyes blazing. “I already said it was fine!”
Tor took a step back, startled.
“You can stop talking about it!” Pelun added, voice still elevated and vibrating with tension. “That’s what you can do!”
And there wasn’t really anything Tor could say to that except, “All right.”
They passed the next turn of the garden in silence, and then Pelun said stiffly, “Was that everything?”
Pelun clearly didn’t want to be here, and the one thing he’d requested was for Tor to stop talking about it. So even though more apologies and explanations and excuses and pleas were crowding onto Tor’s tongue, he nodded.
“Yes, that’s everything. Thank you for speaking with me.”
Pelun gave a curt nod and stalked off.
Tor stared after him, watching those tight shoulders and that stiff gait, and he had to still the urge to run after him and try again.
He’d thought that genuine contrition would be enough.
Was he back to all his conceited assumptions that he was the most important person in the realm?
He hadn’t intended to think like that. It was just…
Pelun had been so understanding about Tor’s confession, and he’d thought he’d understand this, too, once Tor explained.
Pelun hadn’t told Tor to leave, but was that just because he didn’t think it was his place?
All Tor’s earlier hope had faded, and he headed back inside wondering how insufferable his brother would be when Tor returned to Nexa with nothing at all having changed.