Chapter Eighteen #2
As the minutes ticked by, he became more determined to get answers. He’d never get to sleep if he didn’t.
He seemed to be the only person anxious for the celebration to end, though.
And Pel did like how happy everyone was.
Perhaps they could make this an annual event.
It would have to seem like his father’s idea, of course, or maybe Bavil could suggest it.
Sometimes, the heir was allowed to make suggestions that the King would actually listen to.
He stared at his brother, who was currently dancing with one of Larexa’s pretty attendants.
If he was sleeping with any of them, the rumor hadn’t made its way to Pel.
It occurred to him suddenly that his brother flirted a lot, and no one could deny what happened with Marwila, but there hadn’t been any incidents since then, not that had made their way to Pel’s ears.
Whenever the incident came up, Bavil still acted like he’d been in the right… but he wasn’t continuing to behave like that.
He was an accomplished archer, too, if not quite as good as Pel. Yet he hadn’t participated in the competition. Had he not wanted to risk losing out to his Unremarkable brother?
A voice in his head that sounded a lot like Tor’s pointed out that the other reason to not compete was to leave this as an event for Pel.
After Pel had Manifested as Unremarkable, there had been several occasions where Bavil had carefully stepped aside so that Pel wouldn’t be compared to his Illustrious brother. Oh, he’d always had an excuse, but Pel had known that no Illustrious got sick or tired as often as Bav had claimed.
He had two competing images of his brother in his head, and he wasn’t sure which one of them was true.
Now it felt the same with Torex, and a wave of exhaustion swamped Pel. He could protect himself and turn away from both of them, but that’s what he’d been doing for years with Bavil and Larexa, and where had that gotten him?
So Pel waited until the celebration finally drew to a close, standing at the door and letting people tell him how well he’d done and how impressed they’d been with everything. And he agreed, over and over, that the Extraordinary magic was pretty amazing.
It had been, though, and while Pel might be sick to death of hearing it, people were lauding his archery as well.
Was Pel the one who was letting magic drown everything else out?
Blowing out a relieved breath, he finally headed upstairs after the last of the guests left, and instead of going to his own rooms, he made his way to the royal suites.
They were the largest and most impressive rooms in the castle, remodeled after the war to ensure that each castle could accommodate the High Sovereign in appropriate style.
Pel had been too young to pay attention at the time, but he’d heard his father’s resentment later.
It wasn’t like the castle didn’t have lots of space, so Pel didn’t see why it mattered if a nice set of rooms were underutilized.
There were plenty of other lovely rooms. When Bavil and Larexa had Manifested, they’d been given larger and more showy chambers.
Pel had not. Just once, soon after Pel had Manifested, Bavil had tried to suggest that his brother might like a new room.
His father’s disdain had been evident as he commented that the rooms Pel had right now were too good for him, and Pel had run away and hidden in a storage cupboard.
Bavil and Larexa had crawled in there with him and told him they would both move in there with him if that would make him feel better.
They’d spent a few silly minutes imagining making the storage cupboard a royal habitat, and by the time they’d emerged, there had been no trace of the tears that Pel would deny he’d been crying.
He’d known, then, that his father didn’t love him, but at least he knew that his siblings did.
Or so he’d thought. Had it just taken time for them to decide that he was useless? Could they value him but not his lack of magic? Could Torex? Could Pel bear that? He honestly didn’t know—which was why he was here, knocking on Torex’s door.
There was no response, so Pel eventually slipped inside. The sitting room was empty, and he strode across the room to knock on the bedroom door, but there was no answer there, either. He opened the door and stuck his head in, seeing that this room was also empty.
He hadn’t really thought Torex would be passed out in the bed, but it had seemed prudent to check.
He closed the door again and stood in the sitting room, feeling suddenly aimless. He’d geared himself up for a confrontation that wasn’t going to happen, because it hadn’t occurred to him that Torex wouldn’t be here. He was only realizing belatedly how foolish that was.
Why had Pel thought that now was a good time to talk to the man? The only thing that would have made this worse was if Torex had been otherwise occupied. Why had Pel assumed the man would be alone in his room after the celebration they’d just had?
What if he just hadn’t made it up here yet?
His stomach sank like a rock. Oh, goddess, that would be even worse. Pel whirled back to the door, intent on escaping, which was, naturally, when it opened and Torex walked in, checking on the threshold at sight of Pel.
It was hard to say which one of them was more surprised. Torex had clearly not been expecting anyone in his room, and after Pel’s suddenly fevered imaginings, finding Torex… holding a book was definitely unexpected.
They were just staring at one another, Pel realized.
“Hey,” Pel said, foolishly.
“Hey,” Torex responded, looking equally unprepared. He even managed, “I didn’t expect to see you.”
Because it was his room, and it was more than a little weird for Pel just to be standing here when Tor arrived.
Pel cleared his throat. “I was hoping to talk to you. I’d just realized you weren’t here and hadn’t quite figured out what to do.”
Tor almost smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.
“I can come back later,” Pel offered hurriedly.
Tor raised a hand but then let it fall again. “I’d be happy to talk. I, uh, didn’t think you were still speaking to me.”
Pel blew out a breath. “I’m still talking to you. I’m also still upset, but I need answers.”
Tor came all the way into the room, closing the door and then setting the book down on the nearest table. He waved his hand and flung little bits of magic at the crystal lights, so the room was soon well lit.
“Can I get you anything?” Tor asked. “Something to drink? Or, I don’t know… something else?”
It seemed like Pel wasn’t the only anxious one, and that quelled a little of Pel’s nerves, shoring up his resolve.
“No, no,” Pel said, gesturing. “Just sit down.”
Tor did as instructed, choosing the couch with space for two, and Pel sat next to him, angling himself so that he could look at Tor and judge his responses.
“Explain to me what you were thinking,” he demanded. “Because nothing that I come up with is very nice.”
Tor’s face twisted into one of distress, his blue eyes sad. “It’s so incredibly foolish. I’m embarrassed even to think it now. I don’t know how I couldn’t have realized how it would look to you. I’m so sorry. It wasn’t ever about winning, I swear to you.”
Pel blew out a breath. “I didn’t really think that, not for more than a minute or two when I was, you know, seething and irrational.”
Tor’s lips half tipped up again, but he didn’t say anything.
“Well?” Pel pressed.
Tor drew in a breath, looked anywhere but at him for a moment, and then met his gaze.
“The first part of the competition, we were adversaries. It was for show, but it suddenly popped into my head how amazing it would be to demonstrate what we could do together. I didn’t think about how it would look to you or how it undermined that part of the competition being purely skill-based and non-magical.
I just got all excited about the idea of your archery and my magic working together, how we could accomplish a feat that neither of us could manage on our own.
” He cleared his throat, his eyes dropping. “That’s what I was thinking.”
Pel stared at him, stunned. That’s what he’d been thinking?
Tor should still really have thought about how Pel would feel about the inclusion of magic, but… it was the best reason, really. And not something Pel would have considered in a million years.
He realized he was still staring when Tor looked up and finally met his eyes again.
“I’m so sorry,” he repeated. “I didn’t mean to make it terrible for you. I wanted this to be the best day.”
Pel continued to stare at Tor as he gazed so earnestly at Pel, and he realized that was exactly what Tor had intended. He’d wanted to give Pel a chance to show off, and then at the last minute, it had occurred to him that they could show off together.
Pel still thought society put too much stock in strong magic, but it also said something about Pel that he’d never considered a benign explanation. Tor had wanted to link them together—and no one had wanted to do that since Pel had Manifested as Unremarkable at sixteen.
Pel sucked in a breath and said a little unsteadily, “That’s probably the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.”
Tor’s eyes snapped to his face. “I made you miserable!”
“I refused to listen to your explanation,” Pel pointed out. “As you might have noticed, I have a bit of a chip on my shoulder when it comes to magic.”
Tor snorted and then tried to look contrite, and Pel found his lips tipping up in a smirk.
Tor smiled back at him, a growing incandescence that called to Pel like nothing else. Before he knew what he was doing, he found that he’d leaned over and pressed his lips to Tor’s.
There was a still moment where Pel nearly panicked, but then Tor was kissing him back, lips warm and firm against his, everything that Pel wanted. There was no alcohol on the man’s breath this time, and it was definitely a more pleasant experience, but—
There was no alcohol.
Pel pulled back.
“You haven’t been drinking,” he blurted.