Chapter Seven
Pel
Pel had hoped that he might be on the way to Alossa by now.
He’d thought the most difficult thing he was going to have to face was a High King who thought he was a horrible match for his twin.
He was still sort of dreading that, but it wasn’t comparable to fighting for the lives of who knew how many people.
Pel would do everything he could to support peace—and to make sure that Tor didn’t blame himself for whatever happened. Goddess preserve them all.
In the meantime, Tor had insisted on spending the night the same way as the guards, which mostly meant sleeping outside in bedrolls…
not together, for obvious reasons. Planning to go to Alossa and ask the High King’s blessing was not the same at all as cuddling up together on a march to try to prevent a bloodbath.
Not that Pel would want to do anything in front of the guards, but…
he and Tor had spent every night together for several weeks now, and Pel liked it that way.
It wasn’t even the sex, although that was fantastic.
Pel loved the proximity, the warmth, the intimacy.
He’d gotten really used to curling up next to Tor, and he didn’t want to lose that.
Knowing the High King might put a stop to all of it made Pel want to enjoy the days they had left—but revealing their relationship now might cause more problems.
Pel groaned. Why was life so complicated?
It took him too long to fall asleep, and it didn’t seem to do much good because he woke frequently throughout the night. By the time morning dawned, he felt like he might as well have stayed awake the whole time and read a book or something.
Tor could have given him a crystal light, couldn’t he?
Tor looked as rough as Pel felt. Tor squinted at him, and then his lips tipped up into a wry smirk.
“That bad for you, too, huh?”
Pel could only smile helplessly back. “That bad.”
That was about all the time they had for pleasantries.
The guards pressed on quickly, riding long hours because the days were at their longest. No one wanted to dally and risk the situation getting worse.
Bavil had left the patrol with strict instructions to protect the citizens and not pursue, but if there was another attack, or if they were overrun…
It made anxiety churn in Pel’s stomach, and Tor’s expression was grim. They didn’t know what they were going to face, and that was never comfortable, especially when many lives could hang in the balance.
Tor and Pel had privately agreed that their best hope was encountering no exiles.
If they ran into none in Tond, the two of them had a much better chance of convincing the guards not to go over the mountain.
But Sir Cloril, the captain of Tond’s guard, was King Forex’s captain for a reason.
As far as Pel could tell, he followed the King’s orders assiduously.
He’d fought in the war, though he must have still been a young man when it ended.
Pel thought he was nearing fifty now, tall, fit, and attractive, if you liked stern and a bit haughty.
Pel was afraid he’d bought into all of Forex’s rhetoric, so he wasn’t sure it was a good sign that he was here.
On the other hand, from everything Pel had seen, he was highly competent and dedicated to the safety of Tond. Those should be good traits.
Pel wished his father’s actions were at least about protecting Tondians, even if he deplored the idea of wiping out a whole group to achieve this.
But Pel feared very much that at its base, Forex just wanted his land back.
Simply taking it back would be a sign of aggression that the High King and the rest of the United Realms would be unlikely to tolerate.
But if Forex could blame the exiles for everything?
Pel hated everything about this. Well, except for having Tor at his side. Not that he wanted Tor to go through anything traumatic, but Pel was certain he’d be ignored if he were alone. The High Prince might stand a chance.
They reached the base of the mountain in two and a half days, and they found that the patrol was still there. They’d taken over a farm that had apparently been abandoned because the people had fled after the attack.
To Pel’s and Tor’s satisfaction, there was no sign of any exiles, and there’d been no further incursions while they’d traveled. Thus far, it seemed as though their prayers had been answered.
Sir Cloril was in charge, but he’d been checking in with both Tor and Pel, which was a positive sign. The head of the patrol didn’t seem to know whether she should be talking to Sir Cloril, Tor, or Pel. She bowed to all of them.
“Your Highnesses. Captain. There’s been occasional glimpses of movement in the mountains, but it’s been raining, and it could have been animals. There’s been no incursions into Tond, and we doubled up on watches, as Prince Bavil requested, day and night.”
“Well done,” Sir Cloril said with a brisk nod and something that was almost a faint smile. “We’ll take over from here, and you and your patrol can rest.”
“Thank you, Captain.”
Pel was glad to hear they’d obeyed his brother and not tried to go after possible exiles in the mountains.
She cleared her throat. “May I ask after Prince Bavil?”
Pel smiled at her. “My brother’s fine. The healer saw to him right away, and he’ll be back on his feet by the time we’re back at the castle.”
She looked very relieved. “I’m glad. We were trying to get civilians to safety, and Prince Bavil pushed several guards and a father and his child out of the way of a collapsing building.
He was caught in the collapse, and everyone will be relieved to hear that he’s recovering.
Thank you for relieving our minds. I’ll pass on the update. ”
Pel stared after her, wondering if Tor had been right all along. People were complicated, of course, and they could do good things as well as terrible. But did Bavil’s day-to-day actions actually reflect the uncaring lout he periodically enacted in front of their father and Princess Marwila?
Had Pel been so certain that was what he’d see that he’d not looked for anything else?
It wasn’t an altogether comfortable thought, but Pel felt justified in pushing it away for the moment. First, they’d resolve the crisis with the exiles, and then he’d reassess his feelings towards his family.
The clouds hung low over the mountains, the streaky sky indicating it was raining. For the sake of everyone sleeping outside, Pel hoped it wasn’t going to come any further east.
Pel resigned himself to another night of poor sleep, but Sir Coril surprised him by insisting after dinner that Tor and Pel sleep in the small farmhouse.
“You’ll need your wits about you,” he pointed out. “Get a good night’s sleep, and we’ll keep watch.”
It looked like the small structure had been raided at some point, so there were only blankets on the floor instead of an actual bed, but Pel and Tor were definitely not going to complain.
They gave it about half an hour to make sure that no one came after them, and then they curled up together in the nest of blankets.
“What are the chances that everyone knows this is what we’re doing?” Pel wanted to know.
“Fair to middling?” Tor suggested.
Pel shrugged and nodded, slipping his hands up the back of Tor’s tunic.
“We should probably do this in a hurry and be halfway decent if anyone comes to get us,” Pel proposed.
Tor grinned at him and tugged him closer. “I like the way you think.”
It felt like they’d barely fallen asleep after their very pleasurable activities when they were woken by one of the guards.
“Attack?” Pel and Tor said at almost the same time, sitting up abruptly.
“No, Your Highnesses.”
The woman hesitated for a moment. She was holding a partly-shielded lantern, her dark eyes and skin making it hard to see her expression in the dim room.
“What is it?” they asked in unison once more.
She came closer. Now Pel could see that there was an odd look on her face.
“They’ve gone up the mountain. Most of the guards. We got back from patrol to the east, and they were already gone.”
For a moment, Pel didn’t understand. And then Tor swore, and Pel got it. They’d been put in this room deliberately, so they wouldn’t see and wouldn’t be able to stop the guards. Sneaking off in the middle of the night didn’t presage anything good.
Pel and Tor both scrambled up, shoving their feet into boots and strapping on swords. Pel grabbed his quiver and bow, then snatched up their cloaks.
He held one out. “It’ll be raining in the mountains.”
Tor nodded and pulled one on. Pel did the same.
Pel cast a quick look around the room. Good enough.
Tor still looked furious and… guilty.
“Sir Cloril lied to us,” Pel pointed out, knowing that guards going into the mountains couldn’t be a good memory for Tor.
“Should have expected that,” Tor shot back grimly. “We knew he was under orders.”
Pel couldn’t deny it, really, but it was too late now.
“Do you know where they’ve gone exactly?” Tor demanded.
“Can’t see anything up the mountain for sure, not with the dark and the rain. Denil is getting answers,” she said. “I came to wake you. I’m Beluna, Your Highness.”
“Thank you, Beluna.” Tor smiled at her, though it looked strained.
Pel watched the man’s demeanor change the moment they left the house. His shoulders went down and back, his expression serious and stern. This was the High Prince.
He gathered the remaining guards with a few sharp words. They were all watching Tor warily, especially when he threw up a ball of magic that hovered in the air and lit up the area. Tor had told Pel that was the hardest magic to do, because magic liked to be attached to something.
Tor’s voice was arctic. “I will be gracious and assume that you were unaware that I came here on behalf of my brother to prevent indiscriminate slaughter. I will have words for Sir Cloril later, and anyone who deliberately hid the guards’ intentions from me.”