Chapter Eighteen
Pel
Pel’s thoughts circled around and around as he nursed his second mug of ale in the ill-lit corner where he’d tucked himself in the pub.
As it grew later, more and more patrons filled the space with chatter, but Pel didn’t focus on it, letting it flow over him.
Somewhere around mid-way through that mug, he’d started thinking about things a little differently.
It had never made sense that Tor had gone after Pel, so the truth Tor had revealed, as unwelcome as it was, actually cleared up a lot.
It explained why Tor had been so determined in his pursuit, especially in the face of Pel trying to ignore him.
It stung, and there was no denying it, but now that he was past that first shock and the confused rush of anger and pain, the less it seemed like that was all there was to Tor’s actions.
In those first moments, it had made sense in a sick, twisted sort of way that the man had brought Pel here to get out of a marriage he didn’t want with Princess Terila.
He’d literally said that was his purpose… in the beginning.
Because when Pel actually thought about the sheer amount of time they’d spent together, all the things they’d done, he couldn’t really believe it was all with the goal of dismissing Pel.
Tor was either the best actor in the entire world, or at some point, it had stopped being an act.
Tor had told him about the guards up the mountain.
He’d been so relieved when Pel had forgiven him after the archery competition.
He’d given Pel space and choices, had been so patient and attentive and interested when they were together—and he hadn’t spread the word everywhere that he and Pel were together, which would surely have furthered his plan, if he’d really wanted his brother to worry about an alliance.
Could you really make that much up?
Plus, Tor had been so horrified when Pel had turned on him in the throne room. He’d been about to have his magic bound and be imprisoned on suspicion of treason, and he’d been trying to apologize for, what, a sub-par visit to the High Court that might have inconvenienced Pel?
Pel closed his eyes and relived those moments, feeling a fierce ache in his chest that was for a new reason now. Tor had saved thousands of guards and exiles at tremendous risk to his own life, and now he was being condemned for it.
And Pel had let it happen.
Even if Tor had been an ass to Pel personally, Pel should have stayed and tried to explain better to High King Varex.
Tempers had very obviously been frayed, and it had become clear that Pel’s father must have been extra outrageous in his letter.
Pel had actually been there, and while he couldn’t be considered impartial, he could have laid out the sequence of events more clearly.
Yes, Tor had gone against what King Forex had wanted. But refusing to harm an evacuating force wasn’t a crime. The exiles had been on Tond land, but only to reach the path that led to Filon. If the Tondian army hadn’t gone up there, no one would even have realized the exiles were present.
Pel frowned as he considered this. Now that he thought about it, that all seemed rather suspicious, didn’t it?
What were the chances that the Tondian guards would pursue them the exact night they tried to make that crossing?
Had his father had spies tracking their movements?
Had he carefully planned everything, feeling confident that his actions would be excused by claiming it was an attacking force that he’d routed?
There was nothing about this that Pel liked, most especially how it was affecting Tor.
He remembered waking up beside the man day after day, cuddling with him and bringing him down from the mountain, and the monumental wave of relief that had coursed through him when Tor had finally woken up after his magical coma.
Pel had been helplessly in love by then, wrapped up in all his feelings for the man… and then he’d forgotten that for long enough that Tor had been dragged off to the dungeon alone, condemned because no one would listen to him, including Pel.
There was a sinking sensation in Pel’s stomach, because he knew how much that hurt Tor, and Pel didn’t ever want to hurt the man.
On the other hand, Tor was a fool for coming up with a plan like this to try to get out of a marriage to Princess Terila.
It had been thoughtless and mean to identify Pel in such an unflattering way and plan to use him for his own ends.
It was a lot like what Princess Terila had done, just in reverse, and Pel didn’t think he was going to be able to forget that, at least not right away.
But… he also knew that was how their society worked. People found out his name, and they made all sorts of judgments about him and his worth. That was hardly just Tor.
And no matter what Tor had thought initially, he hadn’t stuck to his own plan.
Tor could be a bit thoughtless and careless about magic and how it impacted people with far less of it than he possessed, but he also connected with Unremarkable citizens regularly in a way Pel didn’t see from a lot of other magically powerful people.
He’d built relationships with them day by day.
He’d shared the duties and the visits with Pel.
He’d used the same sorts of tactics Pel and his siblings tried to use with King Forex to make sure the citizens were taken care of.
And he’d defended guards and exiles alike, protecting them from the wrath of the mountain and from themselves.
Pel had always believed in judging a person by their actions, and if he did that with Tor, he needed to consider all his actions.
Tor was smart and charming and funny… and occasionally, a complete ass.
He had issues with his brother and Queen Fernila and sometimes acted impulsively, and he didn’t always think about things from other people’s perspectives.
But he also apologized and tried to do better and saw Pel in a way that no one ever had. That was part of what had left Pel so bereft, like solid earth had been yanked out from under his feet, and he hadn’t realized quite how much he was relying on it until it was gone.
He’d have lots to say to Tor on the subject once they got everything sorted out with Tor’s imprisonment, but it no longer felt like this was something that had shattered them completely. It wasn’t like Pel had expected to fall for Tor.
He could obviously wish that Tor had just told him the truth…
but Pel was also the person who’d punched him in the face after jumping to conclusions.
Tor might have worried that Pel wouldn’t listen—rather like he’d done today.
Pel couldn’t swear that he would have reacted better under other circumstances.
Tor had lied to him, or at least deliberately misled him, and Pel wasn’t happy about that, but they were more than that one fact.
They’d spent months together, had Tendrilled and then Blended, had told one another things they’d never told anyone else before.
Pel didn’t believe you could fake that compatibility.
Pel huffed out a breath and glared down at his mug.
This was a mess, and while a lot of it was thanks to Tor and his asinine plans, Pel had contributed, too.
He’d doubted everything when he could have stood steadfast, had let the words bite when he should have concentrated on what Tor had shown, day in and day out, for weeks now.
He thought of how it felt when they Blended, the warmth of their magic joining together, the certainty that Pel belonged. And now it felt more as though a pit had opened up in Pel’s stomach and was slowly churning, everything draining out of him into a well of darkness.
That was probably melodramatic, but maybe Pel was feeling a little melodramatic at the moment.
He’d abandoned Tor and hadn’t thought about the fact that the first place Tor had taken him in the castle was to meet his baby niece, whom he clearly adored. He hadn’t thought about the number of times the other man had wrapped his arms around him and had held him close.
Pel had felt all that significance, but in the moment in the throne room, he’d doubted everything. He’d feared that all those feelings, all those moments, had just been on his side.
And maybe… Pel grimaced. Maybe he’d been protecting himself, too, walking away before anyone could tell him he couldn’t have the wonderful man he desperately wanted to keep, like it being his choice to leave would make it better somehow.
He could now definitively attest to the fact that wasn’t the case. Pel had walked away, Tor was imprisoned in a dungeon, and Pel doubted that anything would ever be right again.
He took a fortifying sip of his ale. No, that was a terrible attitude to have. What was he going to do about the fact that Tor had been thrown in the dungeon? How was he going to help him? It wasn’t like he could stage a jail break, but perhaps he could go back and… ask to speak to the High King?
Pel obviously didn’t have the relationship with him that Tor did, for both good and ill.
Hopefully, King Varex would be inclined to listen to a Tondian prince if Pel focused on the facts.
If they pulled Tor out of the equation and reduced the chance that anyone would lose their temper, then surely, the facts would speak for themselves.
High King Varex had always struck Pel as a fair-minded ruler, and surely no one but Pel’s father genuinely thought the situation would have been improved if Tor hadn’t intervened. There were thousands of lives at stake.