Chapter Three #2
“Can’t fight like an Unremarkable?” Pel challenged.
Yeah, Tor couldn’t let that go. He couldn’t imagine when he’d ever need to fight like this, but it was a great workout, and it meant spending time with Pel, so it was totally worth it.
They kept up their morning routine, too, and they could see the unease in the citizens they visited.
“Is it normal that there’s so much rain in the mountains?” Tor wanted to know.
The farmers and villagers he and Pel visited looked at the mountains sometimes with a careful eye, muttering that they hoped the clouds stayed there. They mostly had, but they still felt… ominous to Tor.
Pel eyed them like he hadn’t really noticed, which Tor assumed was an effect of living here. They loomed a lot more than Tor liked, if he were being honest.
“I’d rather they were up there than causing flooding here again,” Pel said firmly.
That was true enough, as far as it went.
Pel sighed and added, “You think that’s why the exiles are raiding?”
“I don’t know,” Tor acknowledged. “But if they’ve got flooding or washed-out crops, it might explain some of their behavior.”
“It’s still not theirs to take,” Pel pointed out, a stubborn cast to his mouth.
“No,” Tor agreed.
“And it’s Tond’s citizens who are suffering. You wouldn’t like it if it were happening in Alossa, would you?”
“No,” Tor admitted. “I’d probably be out patrolling like Bavil and trying to get to the bottom of it. But I don’t want anyone to starve, Tondian or exile.”
Pel inclined his head in concession. “Yes, that’s true.”
Tor decided he would question Bavil more closely when he got back.
Maybe it was as simple as the weather impacting the exiles and forcing them to do what needed to be done to survive.
Pel wasn’t wrong about it being hard on Tond’s citizens, but from everything Tor had heard, there’d been little damage and no attacks.
These seemed to be calculated incursions that didn’t take all of anyone’s supplies.
But they seemed to be drifting further and further into Tond, which was sparking people’s concern—but not quite as much outrage as Tor might have expected from the people who were impacted.
He’d encountered his first farm that had had supplies stolen this close to the capital, but it was a couple chickens and a sack of last year’s grain, not all of either.
And the farmers seemed more… resigned than anything, though they grumbled that it wasn’t right.
Tor took this to mean that at least for now, these people still had enough to survive. It was someone absconding with their hard work, but it wasn’t threatening their livelihood yet.
Pel assured him that Prince Bavil was out on patrol and keeping a close eye on the situation, as was King Forex. (From Tor’s point of view, King Forex mostly blustered and shouted, which wasn’t particularly useful.)
As they left, Pel said, “You think it’s unusual, don’t you?”
Tor considered this. “I don’t know what I think. I thought they’d be angrier, and I can’t quite decide if they’d want to help their neighbors if given half a chance or if they don’t expect anything better.”
The first could be a good thing. The second indicated some deep flaws in the overall safety and happiness of Tondians.
“Is that why the exiles are raiding like this?” Pel asked. “To try to prevent outrage?”
Tor pondered. “Maybe. That’s a good point. Perhaps they aim to reduce the chance of retaliation by reducing the damage done. Direct injuries to citizens or property would be more likely to cause outrage.”
“It’s hard to stop people you’ve been ordered not to pursue past the mountains,” Pel pointed out.
“True,” Tor agreed flatly.
It certainly didn’t go well when you did that.
They rode on in silence for a few moments, and then Pel leaned over his saddle to reach out and squeeze Tor’s hand.
“That’s not what I meant.”
Tor blew out a breath. “I know it wasn’t.”
Pel cleared his throat and sat back up. “So we can’t pursue them into the mountains. How do we convince them to stop?”
“Give them a viable alternative.”
“But they already have land of their own,” Pel pointed out.
Tor nodded. “I’m not sure we can figure it out without asking.”
To Tor’s mind, there was a big difference between laziness or a desire for revenge against Tond—King Forex’s favorite suggestions—versus taking just enough not to starve.
“But they’re not interested in conversation.”
“Are we sure about that?” Tor asked. “When’s the last time we tried to talk to them?”
“When your mother ordered them over the mountain never to return, probably,” Pel said, shrugging. “Our patrols rarely catch them—and they resist capture if cornered.”
Tor didn’t like the sound of any of it.
“I’m going to ask Bavil more about it when he comes back,” Tor said, his resolve from earlier firming. “Maybe I should go on one of the patrols.”
Maybe he should have been paying more attention sooner, but he’d been very pleasantly preoccupied. Still, though, he meant to prove to his brother that his decision to come to Tond and court Pel was a wise one, and perhaps this could help.
“I’m sure you’d enjoy the change of pace.”
Lost in his own thoughts, it took Tor a moment to realize the unusually neutral tone with which that had been said.
Cautiously, Tor ventured, “I thought an outside perspective could be useful.”
“True.” A little too clipped.
“What do you say?” Tor said, as though he hadn’t noticed the tone. “Would you like to show me the western mountains next time there’s a patrol?”
Pel looked over at him sharply, and Tor met his gaze evenly. He wasn’t quite sure if Pel assuming Tor wanted to get away from him and Tor assuming that they’d do everything together boded ill or if it just meant they were still figuring a lot of things out.
Pel swallowed and looked away again. “I’d like that.”
Pel had been rejected too often, Tor reminded himself, so he assumed it was going to happen again. The fact he thought that about Tor wasn’t an attack on him or their relationship. No, it just meant Tor had work to do to prove how very much he wanted to be with the man… kind of all the time.
And as much as Tor was enjoying himself here at the castle—and he really was, since Pel was here—he thought it might not be a bad thing to demonstrate that they could travel together, even if it was just a trip within Tond.
He could start laying the groundwork for the idea of them staying together no matter what.
He’d continue to prove that they were compatible, show that they could manage in any situation, never tell Pel the original ending to the foolish plan that Tor had come here with, and instead, convince Varex that the prince Tor had originally picked because he was the most unsuitable option ever was, in fact, the best possible choice.
It would be fine. Tor had this all under control.
Accordingly, he broached the topic with King Forex at dinner, since he shouldn’t really invite himself along without permission. If he managed to imply he wanted to spend time with Bavil, it meant that the King gave his blessing and mostly convinced himself that it had been his idea.
After dinner, as he turned the pages for Larexa at the pianoforte, she shot him an amused look. Objectively, she was much prettier than Pel, with luminous brown eyes, glossy dark hair, and all the curves he could ever want in a woman. But Tor would pick Pel every time.
“I take it you and my grumpy brother over there will soon be going on a journey?”
Yeah, so, apparently he and Pel hadn’t been as subtle as Tor had been hoping. Pel was kind of sitting and glowering at them. Tor couldn’t tell if he really was jealous or if it was just his default expression when it came to his siblings.
“I want to get a better idea of what’s going on,” Tor said, not answering her question. “I figure I could relay a firsthand account to my brother.”
Tor still wasn’t sure if Varex already knew all about the situation and had declined to discuss it with Tor or if King Forex was hiding it. Pel had told him that his father wanted to deal with the matter internally, but did that mean he was actually keeping all of it from the High King?
“And I assume two pairs of eyes are better than one?” Larexa asked pointedly. “Even if they’re grumpy eyes?”
Tor couldn’t help but laugh. “Can eyes be grumpy?”
Larexa snorted and inclined her head towards Pel. “Uh, yes!”
Tor tried not to laugh again. He knew it couldn’t be easy for Pel to be constantly discounted.
Quietly, Tor confessed, “I want to do everything with him.”
Larexa’s eyes softened, her expression going fond. “Good. He deserves every good thing.”
He really, really did. And the fact that Larexa thought so but didn’t say so to Pel continued to confuse him.
He knew the catty comments about deserving someone Extraordinary only drove a wedge between her and her brother, but Tor just couldn’t believe she meant what she was saying.
It only came up when she was with King Forex, like she was performing for her father—only Tor didn’t know why.
It was incredibly frustrating.
He reminded himself that he’d agreed not to interfere. He had to believe they could work it out. It wasn’t like Tor was the prime example of functioning families.
“Yes, he does,” Tor agreed.
“So is there a reason you’re not saying anything?”
Tor knew that Larexa was against violence. He’d convinced her to learn how to defend herself only on the understanding that she wouldn’t be harming anyone and would be solely protecting herself in the unlikely event she ever needed to exercise those skills.
He liked that she was still protective of her brother.
“I left it up to him when we’d announce anything. This is his home.”