Chapter Ten
Tor
Tor woke feeling… weird. That was the only way to describe it.
Waking up was perfectly normal, after all, and yet for some reason, it felt abnormal to Tor.
It was like he didn’t quite fit in his body, or his body didn’t quite fit him.
Or maybe it was like he was expecting something else… but he couldn’t imagine what.
He became aware that there was a bed under him, and that was… also perfectly normal. There was a solid weight radiating warmth pressed half on top of him, and that made something relax in Tor even before he processed who it was.
He hadn’t been drinking, had he? No, he’d told Pel he wouldn’t do that, and he’d been keeping his word.
He strained his mind, wondering why that felt so difficult.
Had he been… out in the rain? Training with the guards, maybe?
That sparked… something, but as soon as he tried to follow the thought, it dissolved into nothing.
He sighed. It felt a little as though he’d laid down for a nap in the stalls and Melody had decided that he was going to dance right on top of Tor for a while. Why was he having such trouble remembering?
He brought his free hand up and began to run it through Pel’s soft hair. The sensation was almost right. Tor felt fleetingly like he wasn’t using his own hand… which was definitely weird. What hand would he be using but his own?
But Pel had nice hair. Tor liked it a lot. He liked the soothing feeling of caressing it. It was a rhythmic motion, and that seemed like the sort of thing he could manage just now. He was warm and dry and in bed with his favorite person in the world. It couldn’t get much better than that.
(There was a looming weight in his mind, hovering just out of reach. But it wasn’t crushing him yet.)
The other man let out a sleepy noise of pleasure, rubbing against Tor, and Tor felt his lips stretch up into a smile. It hurt—it wasn’t supposed to hurt to smile, was it?—but it made him happy just the same.
Pel began to wake up more fully, a leg sliding across Tor’s in a very distracting way, and while Tor had a feeling he shouldn’t move too much, that didn’t mean they couldn’t manage this if—
A very amused-sounding, very female voice interrupted them. “You probably want to hold that thought.”
Tor opened his eyes, not having realized he’d kept them closed this entire time, while with a muttered curse, Pel leaped all the way out of the bed, taking a large section of the blankets with him.
Tor was… in his bedroom, so that was normal, but Larexa was sitting on the left-hand side of the bed, which was distinctly not normal.
Pel was clutching the blankets to him as he stood on the other side of the bed, ears and cheeks red, an expression of horror on his face. His hair was mussed, and all Tor wanted to do was pull him back, but that was clearly not going to work just now.
Tor attempted to sit up and immediately groaned in pain.
Pel crawled back onto the bed instantly, moving to brace Tor.
“You shouldn’t be moving,” he scolded.
“I’m not going to have this conversation lying down,” Tor croaked out, coughing through the words.
His throat was parched, he realized belatedly.
Larexa evidently noticed, because she rose from her chair and went to get him some water.
Tor’s hand shook too much to take the glass, but Pel wrapped his hand around it, too.
For a moment, all Tor could think about was the soft pressure of Pel’s warm fingers tangled with Tor’s on the cup. He liked that a lot.
But why did he need help? Had Tor been drinking?
His head ached, but not the way he associated with overindulgence, and he felt sure that Pel would be more upset if Tor had broken his word.
Of course, the last time he’d drunk too much, Pel had given him water, hadn’t he? Maybe the scolding came later.
Since the idea of pouring water all down himself made him shiver, he let Pel help him guide the cup to his lips.
It felt as though the water was being absorbed directly into the lining of his throat, and he finished the entire glass and then a second one. He remembered to thank Larexa after this one, once Pel had set it aside.
“Sorry. Not quite sure where my manners went,” he told her.
His voice sounded more like his own now.
Pel leaned against him suddenly, pressing his forehead against Tor’s shoulder. He was clutching at him, Tor realized, in a grip that was a little bit too tight, but Tor didn’t mind.
Pel whispered, “You’ve been unconscious for five days.”
Tor blinked, tried to process this, and failed.
“Five days?” he repeated blankly. After a moment, he added, “I think that explains why I’m so hungry.”
He hadn’t recognized the feeling at first, but what did he think that howling pit in his stomach was?
He caught a glance between Pel and Larexa, and then she rose out of her chair once again and headed for the door. She was back a moment later, sitting back down.
“It will be up in a minute.”
Tor was pretty sure that he wasn’t supposed to have a princess at his beck and call.
“Who was at the door?” he wanted to know.
Normally you had to go find a servant, didn’t you?
“Beluna and Denil,” Pel answered.
Tor frowned. This sparked a vague memory, but once again not enough to stick.
“Who?” he asked.
Pel hesitated for a moment, and then said, “Two of the guards who went up the mountain with us.”
Like a veil had been lifted, the memories burst into Tor’s mind. He let out a cry of pain and clutched at his head. Distantly, he heard Pel let out a cry of alarm.
“Lara, get the healer!”
Tor heard the rustle of Larexa’s clothing, and he managed to gasp out, “No, no. Don’t go. It’s fine.”
He forced open his eyes—when had he closed them?—and saw that Larexa was looking at Pel, so Tor transferred his attention that way.
“It’s fine. I’m all right.” Pel shot him a look and Tor amended, “I’ll be all right. I woke up without remembering what happened. It was a bit of a shock when it all came back to me, that’s all. But I don’t need the healer. Again, I’m assuming.”
It would explain part of why Tor was feeling so strange.
The loan of magic by a healer accelerated natural healing, but it had always felt to Tor like there was something inside him that didn’t really belong.
It had never felt actively painful or quite so wrong that it was worth it to heal the slow way instead, but it still felt… foreign.
If he felt this weak and off, though, intervention had definitely been necessary.
“Come sit back down,” he invited Larexa.
He caught Pel’s nod out of his peripheral vision as Larexa came to sit down again. Huh. Well, if Tor had to feel this way, if it had helped the siblings get along at all, that was an amazing benefit.
He tried to rally his thoughts. “Let’s never do that again.”
Pel huffed out a laugh and leaned into his side again. Every point of connection soothed something inside of Tor, like it was the world righting itself to the way it was supposed to be when he hadn’t even realized it was off-kilter.
“I thought you were going to kill yourself, you fool,” Pel murmured.
Tor decided it wouldn’t help to agree.
“What happened?” Pel asked, pulling back enough to look at him carefully. “We all know that’s not how magic works.”
Tor cleared his throat. “It’s, uh, something I haven’t done in a long time. It’s not something I thought I could do from this distance, but it seemed like a better idea to try than not.”
He’d been terrified that they were all going to die buried violently under tons of rock, but he hadn’t known what else to do. He’d known Pel wouldn’t leave without him, and not even to save Pel could Tor abandon all those people to their deaths.
“What did you do?” Pel asked again.
Tor sucked in a breath, exhaled slowly, and breathed in again for good measure as he considered his answer. They’d always kept it a secret, but Tor supposed he’d rather ruined that. Pel certainly deserved an answer.
“I can go if you want,” Larexa offered.
Tor had actually forgotten she was there, but he trusted her.
“It’s up to you,” he told her. “I don’t mind you knowing, but are you ready to pretend you don’t know? I imagine there’s likely to be endless speculation, and I would prefer that it’s not spread about. I need to get back to Alossa quickly.”
Larexa’s brow furrowed, but she assured him, “I won’t say anything. You have my word.”
He reached out and curled his fingers around Pel’s, who immediately weaved them together so that their hands were clasped. It really was the best feeling, giving Tor an instant boost—and clearly, hiding what they were to one another would be useless with Larexa now.
Carefully, Tor said, “I borrowed magic from my brother.”
They stared at him, not seeming to process the words. Pel was blinking at him owlishly, and Larexa’s mouth actually gaped open a bit.
“You… borrowed magic. From your brother. The High King. In Alossa.”
Pel sounded more like he was repeating words than comprehending their meaning.
Tor nodded.
“How is that possible?” Pel demanded. “I mean, that’s exactly what it looked like, like you suddenly got a huge influx of magic, but isn’t that… not possible?”
“Healers can loan power,” Larexa agreed with a nod, “but you can’t… you can’t just borrow it!”
“The King can borrow magic,” Pel added, frowning. “That’s what the Fealty is for.”
“But Tor isn’t a king,” Larexa argued.
Now, they were both looking at him like they’d never seen him before.
“No,” Tor agreed, since their expressions indicated it was important he confirmed this fact. “I’m definitely not a king. But the High King is my twin brother, and we’ve always been a little more connected than the average siblings.”
Pel looked like he was getting a headache, a furrow appearing in his brow that Tor wanted to smooth away. “But the High King is in Alossa right now.”