Chapter Twenty #3
Of course, if Tor stayed here, he could keep the crystal lights lit.
Neither he nor Pel were set to inherit, so in theory, Tor could remain here.
He wasn’t sure what his brother would think about that—nor King Forex, for that matter—but it was at least a possibility.
Would Pel want to come to Alossa? Tor knew he cared about his people.
Tor cared about his, too, but they were in good hands with Varex, and Tor’s connections had never been as personal as Pel’s were.
Or maybe Pel would be willing to travel?
Despite the fact that Tor had come here for all the wrong reasons, he’d learned a lot, and he thought it might actually be a good idea to visit all the realms and get to know their royals and their citizens more naturally than at the occasional event where everyone was on their best behavior.
Or maybe they could do all of it. Spend some time in Tond, some in Alossa, and still more visiting the other realms. For the first time in years, Tor was thinking long-term, and that meant there was lots of time to work with.
Obviously, he’d have to see what Pel was interested in, but maybe they could try a few things out and see what suited best.
Tor was looking forward to the future with hope and enthusiasm. He hadn’t realized he’d lost that. Oh, he knew it wasn’t always going to be smooth sailing between him and Pel, but given what they’d made it through so far, he was confident they could weather anything.
He’d definitely have to be better about how he thought about and talked about magic, though.
Pel’s experience was completely different from his own, and Tor was pretty sure he needed to learn more and talk less as he tried to understand Pel’s point of view.
He’d been extremely magical and extremely privileged for most of his life, and it showed.
He was looking forward to what Pel could teach him.
Someone had apparently been keeping an eye on him, because he’d just realized his plate was empty and he was still hungry when another bowl of porridge appeared, along with more fella-root.
“I love you all,” Tor told the kitchen at large.
There was a chorus of laughter, and they went back to work as Tor dug into the food.
He was anxiously trying to make plans, he realized, because he’d become aware of how much time he’d spent here.
And now it was more important than ever that Tor make a good impression on Varex.
Unfortunately, disappearing for several months to not actually do what his brother wanted was probably not the most auspicious start.
Tor could write to him, but what good would that do?
No, he was pretty sure he needed to explain in person.
Because the thing was, apart from the fact that he hadn’t seen Ada or Rin in weeks and weeks, he was happy here.
He felt useful and productive—and there seemed to be a good chance he was going to get to make out with Pel regularly now, which was the best.
He just needed to figure out how to convince his brother to see it the same way.
Tor could swallow some humble pie, couldn’t he?
Because with that one major exception of not having anything to do with Terila, Tor had truly done what Varex asked.
No drinking, no orgies, and he’d never in his life been more serious about courting and bonding.
Alossa had no formal ties with Tond, just like Vayrin, so this was still a politically advantageous match.
Tor got along well with Bavil, and Forex grumbled way more about the United Realms than Terila’s parents ever had.
Maybe Tor being here was exactly what they needed for continued peace.
All right, maybe that was pushing it a bit far, but still, Tor believed this really could be presented as a smart choice, though he had every intention of doing it even if it were the most foolish choice that had ever existed.
He wanted Pel, and that was that.
He finished his second bowl of porridge, waved at the staff, and made his way out to the stables—where he was surprised by the strength of the surge of relief he felt when he found that Pel was already there, as usual, saddling Extraordinary.
What had Tor thought he was going to do, leave Tor’s bed and suddenly run for the hills? This was still new, he reminded himself, and they were figuring things out. Tor also hadn’t expected how strong the urge would be to back Pel up into the stable wall and kiss him senseless.
Not subtle. Not likely to reduce rumors.
So Tor flashed Pel what he hoped was a normal smile, called good morning, and went to saddle his own horse.
“Morning, Melody. How are you?”
The horse snorted at him, and Tor took this to mean that more treats were needed. Obviously.
“You’ll get fat if you eat all the treats you seem to think you deserve,” Tor pointed out. “And I’d look quite silly if I were trying to climb onto a horse who was round like a barrel.”
Melody whuffed at him, clearly displeased.
Tor got the tack on him and checked it for comfort.
“You’re so greedy. But if you’re a very good boy, I’ll give you an apple or two when we get back,” Tor confided.
“You are such a softie.”
Tor looked up to see that Pel was watching him from outside the stall. Tor shrugged and offered a rueful grin.
“He’s a big fan of treats.”
Pel rolled his eyes. “All horses like treats. Not everyone indulges them so much.”
“I happen to think that everyone deserves something sweet now and again,” Tor told the other man. “Makes them more agreeable.”
“Is that so?” Pel asked.
Their eyes caught and held. There was a little bit of challenge in Pel’s eyes, along with some uncertainty, and Tor realized abruptly that acting as though nothing had changed was not, in fact, the best way to approach the morning.
“Yes,” Tor confirmed, meeting Pel’s gaze firmly. “Every sweet thing they desire.”
“You’ll spoil them.”
“They deserve spoiling.”
Pel rolled his eyes, but his cheeks had gone a little pink, and a smile lurked at the corner of his mouth.
“Come on, if you’re done sweet-talking your own horse, or we’ll be late.”
Grinning, Tor led Melody out of the stall, and they were soon on their way, heading down the roads that had now become very familiar to Tor, just like the man riding beside him.
Tor waited until no one could possibly overhear them before he said, “I had half a mind to tug you into the stall and have my wicked way with you.”
Pel slanted him a look. “Oh, yes?”
Tor hummed a noise of agreement. “But it seemed more than likely that someone would come to investigate the noises—and that Melody wouldn’t like it above half.”
Pel laughed. “I’m pretty sure he would have been more confused than anything, and I’m guessing that a horse trying to figure out what we were doing might have cooled the mood.”
Tor grinned. “Maybe a little. But just so you know, it was a definite temptation.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Pel said. “It’s best behavior for you, then, is it?”
“Well, for a given value of best,” Tor admitted, and Pel laughed again. “Seriously, though. I’m probably a lot less discreet than I think, but I want to give you choices. Once it’s out, it’s going to be out.”
“What if I want to tell everyone?” Pel asked.
“Then we can start with the first people we come across and just keep telling people until everyone knows,” Tor promised, probably a bit more eagerly than he should have.
“I’m thinking it would probably take about two weeks to go from one end of the United Realms to the other.
Longer if no one’s riding or in a boat.”
Pel laughed a bit incredulously and conceded, “That might be a little grander than I was thinking. We could get used to the idea a little bit on our own first.”
“Whatever you want,” Tor assured him.
Pel was silent for a moment and then admitted, “I’ve never been worth gossiping about before. Not like that. I wasn’t even thinking outside of the castle. This castle.”
Ah. Tor had been precipitous again.
“Sorry,” he said with a sigh. “I’m afraid that’s one of the downsides that comes with being involved with the High Prince.”
Tor couldn’t change that, even if he wanted to.
“Hey,” Pel said a bit sharply. Tor looked at him, startled out of his brooding. “I know who you are.”
Tor couldn’t help but smile. Yes, he supposed Pel did.
The visits passed… just like normal. Tor’s life might have been entirely rearranged, but the rest of the world was just as it had always been.
Maybe Tor and Pel’s eyes caught and held a little more often than they used to, and maybe Tor realized he was grinning a bit more than he should, but no one seemed to notice. Most people wanted to talk about the archery competition, having either been there themselves or heard all about it.
Tor was unspeakably glad that Pel had let him explain himself, and they could now discuss the day without any bad feelings.
Pel seemed altogether earnest when he agreed that it had been a lovely day.
Tor made sure to praise the other man as often as he could get away with, and although Pel occasionally rolled his eyes at him, he looked pink-cheeked and pleased.
On their way back to the castle, Pel observed, “That seems mostly to have worked.”
Tor grinned at him. “No reason that it shouldn’t have. It’s totally normal, and we’re just adding personal fun later, right?”
Pel laughed. “Right. I certainly don’t want anything personal in front of anyone else.”
Tor crossed exhibitionism and voyeurism off his mental list of things that they might consider at some point. Honestly, it hadn’t seemed likely that Pel would be interested. Tor had tried many things at least once, but he was looking forward to figuring out what they liked together.
Back at the stables, they groomed their horses, Pel consented to having lunch together, and then they went off to train with the guards.
And by sheer dint of doing exactly what they normally did, they made it through the day just as they normally did.
At dinner, Bavil and Larexa looked at them a bit carefully, but Tor reminded himself that they’d competed together and then avoided one another assiduously afterwards. It was unlikely either of Pel’s siblings had guessed how the night had ended.
He turned the pages for Larexa at the piano as usual, and he and Bavil managed to discuss the competition without ever once addressing how Tor and Pel had made it weird.
The King only suggested once that Tor had gone easy on his son and that was why Pel had won.
Tor laughed. “Not at all. I was beaten by a superior opponent fair and square. I was definitely not expecting two arrows at once, and that’s on me. I’ve never been up against anyone who’s both so fast and so accurate.”
The King didn’t seem willing to contradict Tor out loud, and Pel shot Tor a look of gratitude that he then schooled to an immediately neutral expression. Bavil started talking about the patrols by the river to further inspect the embankments, and the competition didn’t come up again.
Tor hadn’t given a lot of thought to what it would actually be like in Tond.
He’d intended, he remembered with a snort at himself, to sweep in here, sweep Pel off his feet, and sweep out again.
He hadn’t expected to be embroiled in family politics, to care about the farmers, or to want Larexa to be the best defended princess ever.
And he’d never expected Pel. He kind of wanted to shake all of them until they admitted just how wonderful Pel was…
but that wasn’t the quiet support Pel had asked for.
Tor wouldn’t let King Forex sling insults, but otherwise, he could try to respect Pel’s wishes.
And maybe, if Tor was here longer, he could just sort of…
bridge the gap between Bavil, Larexa, and Pel, even if he wasn’t overtly interfering.
Tor could hope.
He was more anxious than ever to get through the evening, though, and it was a huge relief to be able to escape back to his rooms. He found that he’d made a tactical error in not clearly defining what happened next, though.
They’d agreed Pel’s room wouldn’t suit given its proximity to his family, so if they were meeting somewhere, it would be here in Tor’s rooms. Tor was a fool for not having issued a formal invitation, though. What had he been thinking?
He rolled his eyes at himself. He hadn’t been thinking, or certainly not with his head. He’d just assumed that of course they would get together this evening, because he wanted that more than anything. An actual invitation would have been clearer—and more polite.
Would Pel come on his own? Would he second guess everything?
Goddess, why was this so complicated? Tor couldn’t go talk to him or send a letter or something, because that would qualify as not subtle again. Although—
His eyes caught on the two mugs of fella-root and a plate of biscuits that sat on the table in the sitting room.
Popping his head into the bedroom, he found that the bed had been made with fresh sheets, there was a pitcher of water with two glasses on the table by the fire…
and a small bottle of oil had been placed on the bedside cabinet.
So… not subtle, then.
Still, Tor hadn’t caught a hint of it out with the farmers and villagers today, and he didn’t think any of the servants had looked at them strangely.
Someone had figured it out—or at least figured out that Tor was entertaining.
That was probably the simplest explanation.
Tor wasn’t sure how long they could reasonably hide it, anyway, but it was definitely a reminder that servants were observant.
Tor stripped out of his tunic and hose, then tugged on his nightshirt. He didn’t even know if Pel was coming, and he didn’t know what would happen if he arrived. He didn’t want to make assumptions.
At what point would it be clear that Pel wasn’t coming? Oh, why hadn’t he made actual plans with the man?
Maybe Pel was tired. Maybe he’d gotten stuck talking to his father. Maybe Bavil or Larexa had the worst timing ever and had picked today to try to enact a reconciliation. (Of course Tor would support them, even if any other day would be better.)
In the meantime, he turned back the covers of the bed. He straightened his discarded clothing. He made himself lie down on the bed as he realized that he’d been basically pacing.
Maybe he should try to read a book.
Maybe he should—
Maybe he would spring from his bed and bolt for the sitting room door, because that had definitely been a knock.