Chapter Fourteen #3
“Enough!” High King Varex roared. “Torex, clever words aside, you willfully disobeyed me. You chose to go to Tond, and within months of your being there, the realm has nearly been plunged into war. You claim that it is a coincidence.”
“It is,” Tor said stiffly. “I knew nothing about issues with exiles when I went there.”
“Then why go to Tond?” Yomil demanded, expression accusing. “You ignored your King’s order and didn’t go to Vayrin. You didn’t stay with your sister in Lotar. You didn’t choose Bessar or Filon. Why did you go to Tond?”
“Because I wanted to follow your orders!” Tor told his brother, sounding thoroughly exasperated.
“I wanted to do what you told me but in such a way that you’d be horrified with the results and would let me off the hook.
I went to Tond because that was where I could find the most inappropriate prince that I could possibly think of to court! ”
The words echoed around the room, or maybe they just echoed in Pel’s head.
The most inappropriate prince. The one he would never have to actually bond with because of course the High King wouldn’t want his brother to bond with Pel.
Of course. Pel had always known that was the case. He’d just… forgotten for a little while because the other man had been so very charming.
So much so that Pel had done exactly what Tor wanted him to do.
Been exactly who no one would want.
Had it suddenly gotten really cold in the room, or was that just Pel?
The most inappropriate prince.
The High King still looked cold and disapproving.
“Torex, you’re doing nothing but further demonstrating your disregard for everyone but yourself.
Your behavior has been irresponsible at best, criminal at worst, and now it’s threatening the entirety of the United Realms. Your magic will be bound until we can investigate further. ”
“Fine,” Tor snarled. “If you’re determined to be the worst brother who’s ever existed, I can’t stop you.”
High King Varex faltered ever so slightly as he rose from his throne, but he stepped down the dais until he was standing in front of his brother.
Pel had never seen this done, and he’d be more interested if he didn’t feel an infuriating urge to pull Tor to safety at the same time that he wanted to punch him and maybe throw up.
The High King reached out and grasped Tor’s upper arms. There was silence for a long, painful moment.
Finally, High King Varex intoned, “You are bound over with only base magic to sustain you. You will be imprisoned until we can investigate fully and determine if you have committed treason.”
Tor sucked in a shuddering breath, and Pel felt oddly as though a howling void had opened up in his stomach. The void was competing with the butterflies that were already there, making the nausea worse.
“Guards!” High King Varex called. They jogged over from an antechamber where they’d apparently been waiting for a summons. “Take Prince Torex to the dungeons. He is to remain imprisoned until I call for him.”
They couldn’t quite hide their startlement, but they bowed and turned towards Tor, who looked a lot like he’d been punched in the face after all, wan and shocked.
And finally, Tor turned to Pel. “I’m really sorry about this.”
Pel scoffed. “Seriously? You dragged me all the way out here just so that your brother won’t make you marry Terila, and that’s what you have to say for yourself?”
Tor’s eyes widened what would have been comically large in any other circumstances. “Pel, no—!”
Pel shook his head and swallowed thickly against the overwhelming urge to cry.
There was no way that he could cry in front of everyone, so he whirled on his heel and strode for the door before it occurred to him that he hadn’t actually been dismissed by the High King, who might think he was conspiring with the exiles.
But only Tor was calling Pel’s name, and Pel definitely couldn’t deal with him right now. Thankfully, High King Varex evidently decided Pel wasn’t the priority, and Pel was able to escape.
His face was hot, his skin tight, his whole body prickling unpleasantly, and he had to keep blinking to clear his stinging eyes.
Eventually, he realized that he was just marching through castle corridors with no idea where he was. He asked the next person he passed how to get out. Looking bemused, they nevertheless directed him.
And then Pel had to gulp back something that was either a hysterical giggle or a sob because he’d needed to ask for directions in Tor’s castle after all.
Because Tor had come to Tond specifically for Pel… because he was the most unsuitable prince in the entirety of the United Realms.
Outside, he found that the sun was shining almost overhead… and he had no idea what to do. He wandered in the direction he thought the river lay, because he hadn’t been paying attention earlier. He’d been with Tor, so he hadn’t worried.
Pel had let himself believe everything Tor had said because he’d wanted to. It had never made sense that Tor had pursued Pel over Bavil and Larexa, yet Pel had stopped questioning it and been flattered.
No one noticed Pel—unless they were a High Prince who needed to get out of a courtship they didn’t want. What had Tor thought, that High King Varex would be so horrified by Pel that he wouldn’t make Tor bond with Princess Terila, either? That she would be insulted and not want him anymore?
It sounded completely ridiculous, but it wasn’t like Tor’s plans were ever particularly wise.
Besides, Pel had heard it from Tor’s own mouth, so it wasn’t like it could be questioned. Tor had planned to seduce Pel in the hopes of making a fuss and ruining the desired courtship with Princess Terila.
It made Pel feel like such a fool.
He stared around himself. He was pretty sure that he should have found the river by now, but it wasn’t like he was in a fit state to talk to Beluna, Cavun, and Denil. What was he going to say? How could he explain anything that had just happened or how incredibly naive Pel had been?
Pel found the nearest pub instead, relieved by the dim interior. He asked for an ale and drank it far too quickly, as though that would make him feel better. He grimaced and ordered a second so that he had something to do with his hands.
He found a corner table where he could sit and stare into the ale’s depths as though it had any of the answers he was seeking.
Although, really, that wasn’t the problem. There were so many answers, and they were all staring Pel in the face. He had to acknowledge what Tor had really been doing in Tond.
If only he could do so without it feeling like someone had plucked his heart out of his chest and stomped on it.