Chapter Twenty-Two #3
He didn’t feel entirely comfortable speaking for Tor about something as monumental as this.
It was possible that the idea of revisiting or breaking the peace accords really would be considered treason…
but he was pretty sure he knew Tor well enough to theorize his response.
Tor had been scarred by these mountains, but he’d gone up them in the dark in a storm and risked his life for strangers.
Unfortunately, the fact that people might think he was dead and otherwise that he was a traitor who’d fled rightful imprisonment in the dungeon in Nexa was kind of a problem.
Also, he was in a magical coma, though Tama’s magic would hopefully rectify that soon.
Tor’s skin definitely felt warmer to the touch, and that had happened when Wavilon healed him, too.
Now, Pel just needed to be patient, even though he was practically jittering out of his skin with the need for Tor to wake up.
“Thank you,” Tama said.
Pel startled, having forgotten what they were talking about. He hastened to clarify, “That’s just my best guess. There may be aspects of this issue that I haven’t even thought of that Tor is more aware of.”
Pel hadn’t meant to turn this into Tor’s possible refusal making him the villain.
Tama shook her head. “No, I understand. It’s a serious undertaking, and Prince Torex has clearly already put a lot at risk to defend us. Honestly, just knowing he’d likely consider it means a lot.”
Pel was certain of that. Part of him almost wished that Tor would say no in order to keep him safe, but he was well aware that Tor wouldn’t prioritize his safety over others’.
And it seemed incredibly unlikely to him that Tor would prioritize a twenty-five-year-old peace accord over the thousands of real lives that were being impacted today.
But if opening up this aspect of the accord made any of the rulers think the rest of it should be revisited as well, it could put thousands of other people in danger, and that couldn’t be discounted.
If only they could be reasonable about this, but Pel had only to think of his father to know that wouldn’t be guaranteed.
If they had a chance to do this over again, to insist that High King Varex and Tor really sat down and talked, could they come to a better resolution?
Or had the waters been too muddied? There was so much going on.
The violent raid in Tond. The attack on the exiles.
Tor being accused of treason. The attack on Princess Cala and the castle in Alossa.
Pel didn’t see how it all fit together, but it was an awful lot happening all at once if at least some of it wasn’t connected.
But just maybe they’d bought some time, because Pel was pretty sure that he’d been discounted.
He’d never been more grateful for that in his life.
He’d got Tor out of the castle. They’d escaped Alossa and hopefully hadn’t been traced back to Tond.
(They’d kept watch the entire time, but that wasn’t foolproof, especially if someone was observing only.) Hopefully, they had some breathing room.
By happy coincidence—fond childhood memories, Pel supposed—they’d found a healer, and Tor had received the care he needed.
Once Tor woke up, there was a whole lot that needed to be discussed, but there wasn’t really anything more they could do at the moment. The priority right now was Tor’s continued healing.
By common accord, they abandoned the serious talk.
They ate lunch, and Cavun and Beluna switched places.
She still seemed wary of Tama, and Pel couldn’t blame her.
Their situation here remained precarious.
When Pel had considered the cave, he hadn’t thought about the fact that it put them a lot closer to the exiles—and he wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing.
They talked quietly as rain sheeted down outside the cave. Pel was relieved they weren’t trying to camp outside. The tents were well-oiled, but they lost the argument with the rain eventually—or the rain infiltrated from the ground. There was nothing worse than waking up soaked through.
Pel mostly let the sound wash over him—Denil and Tama were talking about bookbinding, while Beluna and Bav were debating something about sword grips—concentrating instead on the rise and fall of Tor’s chest and the warmth of his fingers as Pel clasped their hands together.
He looked a lot more like he was just sleeping now, and that was an incredible relief.
They had a lot to face, but Pel was confident they could do so together. He vowed that he was never again going to make the mistake of not standing by Tor’s side.
With no warning at all, Tor suddenly bolted upright with a groan of pain, wide eyes darting around the cave.
Pel didn’t think, he just flung himself at the man and brought his lips down on Tor’s. His heart sang, relief rushing through him, as Tor kissed him back.