Chapter Eleven #2
He didn’t see Lemila, so she must have been the one Ondun had mentioned who’d died at some point after the mountain raid.
He would have to get more details later.
Three people were still dead, and that was three people too many.
Nine people were separated from their families, and even if Tor sorted things out with Varex, there would be no getting back the last two years and the pain caused to them and their families.
But knowing that those nine had survived and there really had been a letter felt like a crushing weight had been lifted from Tor’s soul.
He’d still messed up. He shouldn’t have been drinking so much.
He should have been more critical of his orders.
But the consequences weren’t quite so black as they had been, and he had an opportunity now to try to make the situation better for the nine survivors.
He’d been set up. He wasn’t blameless, but it wasn’t all on him, either.
Tor drew a deep breath and blew it out, unable to express his gratitude for Ondun and his need to write to his sister.
(Should he buy them gifts? He should definitely buy them gifts.) How close had Tor come to never finding out the truth?
Instead, he’d chosen this path with the exiles, and look what he’d learned.
Maybe the goddess really was looking out for him, even if it felt like he’d been through a lot recently.
It still defied description, this idea that thousands of people were willing to pledge themselves to Tor and trust that he was going to try to take care of them—including nine people who knew full well how capable of messing up Tor was.
As the pledging continued, he recognized the man who’d been in charge on the mountains, the one who’d told Tor about their numbers and confirmed that they could escape if Tor made a good enough distraction.
His name was Nor, and Tor barely managed not to make a joke about rhymes.
But the man nodded solemnly at Tor before making his pledge, and Tor had known this wasn’t the moment.
He thought he recognized a few more from the night when the exiles had tried to flee, but it had been such chaos then, he couldn’t be sure.
Now and again, someone still changed their mind, like they’d geared themselves up and thought they could handle it, but then realized when faced with Tor that they couldn’t.
He didn’t blame them. It meant trusting a perfect stranger wouldn’t pull magic out of you to further their own ends, knowing that rulers had done it in the past. Tor didn’t blame anyone for deciding that didn’t work for them.
But as the sun rose in the sky, Tor was pretty sure that Istila had been right, and it had probably been about five thousand people who’d been willing to pledge.
The magic was there inside him now, somehow not filling him up to bursting but instead settled deep in his core.
It was something to be protected at all costs, not a pool to dip into for his own needs.
“If I ever seem like I’m forgetting the importance of each individual person, you have permission to kick me, all right?” Tor told Pel.
Pel’s lips quirked up. “Oh, I would have done that anyway. But I’m not worried. You’re very good at connecting with individual people. I think you’ll be fine.”
Tor certainly hoped so. He couldn’t imagine taking advantage of these people—but he also knew that his outlook on magic was totally different from Pel’s.
Who was to say that Tor wouldn’t start taking this magic for granted after he’d grown used to it?
He was glad he had someone like Pel to ensure he never forgot.
Tama and Istila wrapped up the line of exiles. Tor looked uncertainly between Istila and Bavil.
“Uh, I don’t want to intrude on any family drama, but I feel sure that Bavil would accept your Fealty and welcome you back in Tond.”
Tor should not have spoken for the man, but Bavil was already nodding.
“Yes, of course. I’m not—” Pel’s brother cut himself off, drew a deep breath, and seemed to marshal his thoughts.
He met his mother’s gaze squarely. “I don’t think I can forgive yet that you left us behind, but I believe that you did what you needed to do for you.
It’s been nearly fifteen years, and if that’s the land you’re now connected to, I can understand that. I hope you’ll visit, regardless.”
Istila’s brown eyes, so similar to Pel’s, went glassy. “I’d really like to do that. I wish I’d seen another way that didn’t involve abandoning you. And I hope you understand why I feel like I can’t abandon the exiles while this is still unresolved.”
Her eyes went between Pel and Bavil, and after a moment, they both nodded. Tor assumed that many more discussions would be necessary to work through this, but it was a good start.
Less worried now, Tor accepted Istila and Tama’s Fealty, and nobody said anything about the way Tama and Bavil very definitely didn’t look at one another.
And then, to Tor’s surprise, he found three more people now lined up in front of him.
He looked at them, and then he looked at Bavil, who smiled.
“I think you’re stuck with them.”
Tor turned back. “Are you really sure? This might all go wrong.”
“I’m altogether certain,” Beluna told him with that easy assurance that had characterized everything she’d done thus far. “I’ve known I’d follow you since you saved the exiles. This is something I want to do.”
Cavun nodded his head. “I have people that I’d like to be reunited with, and I know that you’re the type of ruler I want to follow.”
Then he looked at Bavil and made a face, starting to apologize, but the new ruler of Tond waved this off with a laugh.
“Zero offense taken, I promise. If I’d been through what you had, I’m sure I’d be pledging myself to him, too.”
Then Tor looked at Denil. “You have a wife and a baby.”
The slender man nodded. “That’s true. But I feel as strongly as the others do about you.”
Tor still wasn’t sure what would happen with the baby if their parents were pledged to different rulers, and he didn’t want to find out this way.
“I think Bavil and I can both agree to get along,” Tor told him with a smirk. “Why don’t you think about it and talk it over with your wife? Nothing has to be decided right now, and I’d hate if it caused any conflict in your family.”
If Tor died, it would be a moot point. If this all worked, then there was no reason Tor couldn’t accept one more family at a later date.
Denil blew out a breath and then he nodded. “All right.”
Bavil clapped Tor on the shoulder as he grinned at Denil. “He’s my brother-in-law now, you know. Whatever happens, we’re going to make sure that a lot of things change here in Tond and over the mountain.”
Goddess, hear our prayer.
Well, even if Tor didn’t make it through all this, he was confident Bavil would continue to advocate for the exiles, so hopefully the rest of them would be all right no matter what.
Thankfully, although neither he nor Bavil had been on the receiving ends of it, both of them had witnessed renunciations of pledges of Fealty thanks to those permanent moves between realms.
So Beluna and Cavun first removed their Fealty from Bavil and then pledged it to Tor.
It felt extra personal, somehow, that these two had chosen to remove their Fealty from someone else—someone decent—and pledge it specifically to Tor. The responsibility already felt enormous, but that added to it. It was also reassuring, though, because they knew him and were still picking him.
And then Pel stepped in front of him.
“Nope,” Tor said immediately.
Pel raised an eyebrow, looking unimpressed.
Tor looked between the two brothers. “I just… It’s already working the way it is right now, and you don’t owe me anything, Pel.”
Pel’s expression softened. “It’s not that. But I’m committed to you, Tor, one hundred percent. We’re in this together. And we’re certainly living together. Wherever you go, I go, and this is part of that.”
Bavil was eyeing Tor sardonically. “You do realize he’s going to renounce his Fealty to me regardless and be really snarky about the fact that you don’t want it?”
Tor let out a half laugh. Bavil knew his brother well.
Carefully, he asked, “You’re really sure?”
“I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life,” Pel told him, eyes solemn and steady. Then he grinned. “You’ve got to have someone who’ll tell you if you’re doing things wrong, right?”
Tor rolled his eyes, but he was grinning now, in spite of himself. A moment later, Pel had renounced his Fealty to his brother, and now Tor’s hands were settled on Pel’s clasped ones.
Their magic flared together at once, Blending without their conscious thought.
“I’ve already got your magic,” Tor pointed out.
Pel had been looking at their joined hands, but he raised his eyes to meet Tor’s.
“And now you get a little bit more. I, Pel of Tond, pledge my Fealty to you, Torex of Alossa.”
And Tor felt it, that little trickle of magic that was, apparently, separate from their bond. It was more proof that Pel trusted him—and something that he’d explicitly chosen when they’d done everything else ass-backwards and accidentally.
Tor was unable to keep the grin off his face, happiness bubbling up uncontrollably.
“I, Torex of Alossa, accept your Fealty and pledge you my protection. And everything else, of course.”
Pel cracked his own grin. “Yeah, all right, you know how charming you are.”
Tor used their joined hands to tug Pel closer and kiss him.
Nearby onlookers who were still awake—awake again?—cheered and whooped.
Tor laughed with sheer joy and pulled Pel closer still, wrapping his arms around him and kissing him even more soundly.