Chapter Twenty-Three #2
It wasn’t quite like coming home, but it felt a bit like it all the same.
He’d had nice visits with Ada before, and so the room felt much more personal than an inn—or a tent.
Tor hoped they were going to be staying for a few days.
If he was doing the math right, it was over a month since he’d stayed in the same place for two nights in a row, not since they’d been in the Tondian castle before they went after the exiles.
Pel looked around himself curiously, taking in the nicely appointed room.
It had sturdy furniture, a large canopied bed, and a larger proportion of art made by small children than you’d find in most guest rooms. (It was also on the family floor, making it easier for those early morning bed-jumping incidents.)
“It’s nice,” Pel said, and Tor felt himself relax a little, though he hadn’t even been aware he was awaiting judgment.
It wasn’t like he’d designed the room or picked it out.
But this was, if tangentially, the second time Pel had come to visit Tor’s family, and while just about anything would be better than the disaster of their visit to Nexa, Tor admitted to himself that he wanted Pel to like it here, to like his family.
Something of what he was feeling must have shown on his face because Pel came over and wrapped his arms around Tor, who happily hugged him back.
Tucked up against Tor’s shoulder, Pel asked, “Are we giving your brother a couple of days to settle?”
Ah, yes. Because things weren’t actually completely settled for them. Tor had let the familiar setting lull him into a false sense of security.
He sighed. “Yes, I think so. Unless he decides that he really wants to talk about it sooner. I know it’s super important, but I think everyone could use a few days to relax without any drama, and I don’t want to introduce more at exactly the wrong moment.”
Because it seemed to go without saying that Tor was full of drama. He’d argue that a bunch of this really wasn’t his fault this time, but… some of it definitely was.
Pel simply nodded, though Tor could feel the little thrum of tension through him, like he wasn’t totally relaxed.
Tor simply refused to entertain the possibility that he could be executed for treason. (Was he still an escaped prisoner? Technically, he had to be.) It definitely needed to be dealt with… just not right now.
Tor tightened his hold on Pel. “I’m so glad that you’re here with me. Maybe we can pretend this is a holiday together?”
Pel laughed. “Yes, let’s try that.”
So that was what they did.
Actually, that seemed to be what everyone was doing. Not quite pretending the events of the last week hadn’t happened, but pushing it away for a bit so that they could focus on the here and now without any complications.
The complications didn’t actually leave them, of course.
In the morning, someone always looked heavy-lidded and sleep-deprived.
(And not in the fun way.) But they ate regular meals and read books and took walks outside and played with the children, reminding themselves that this was normal and they were, indeed, at peace.
Stronex held several days of open court to address issues that had arisen while he was gone. Tor had never really imagined Solil as a ruler, but he didn’t know him that well. It was strange to think that he was now set to inherit the crown in Lotar.
But he seemed kind and amiable—in a real way, not like Nostex—and he declared himself perfectly content to go spend some time with Pamexa, Nawila, Rin, and Terila.
“You’re sure they don’t mind?” he wanted to know.
“Rin said specifically that he was looking forward to seeing you again,” Tor assured him.
Solil beamed, and Tor reflected that genuine amiability and a desire to assist others was probably exactly what they needed in the United Realms right now.
It took Tor a couple days before it occurred to him to ask his sister, “Did you want to Tendril?”
They were reading in one of the sitting rooms, curled up on the couch together because Ada liked having contact with someone. It made Tor wonder just how touch-deprived she’d been before, and he was doubly grateful for Hena and Par, who’d filled at least some of that gap in her life.
(But he was beginning to think Thurnil hadn’t died slowly enough.)
The children were doing something super secret with their father. They’d announced that. They were so not subtle; Tor loved it. Tor had been trying to make sure that Ada wasn’t alone, and since Var and Stronex seemed to be doing the same thing, it was working quite well.
(He might also have been asked to keep her distracted this afternoon, but he’d never tell.)
Her brow furrowed.
“Like we did as kids,” he offered. “I thought maybe you’d like that now. Sorry if that’s foolish.”
She smiled at him and squeezed his arm. “No, that’s a really nice offer. It’s been a long time since I thought about Tendrilling and Blending as anything but unpleasant, but that would actually be really nice.” She licked her lips. “I don’t want to be afraid of it.”
Tor held out his hand and let his magic fill him, spilling out so that it danced around his fingertips. Ada drew in several deep breaths, and a moment later, her own magic was visible, writhing around her hand.
That hand was trembling, though, so Tor kept his own hand steady and let her decide when she was ready. He remembered how much Pel had wanted to Tendril but had been afraid to do so at the same time.
Did Ada fear something might go wrong, too?
She sucked in another breath and then smacked her hand against Tor’s. There was a moment where nothing happened, maybe because he was so surprised, and then their magic twined together, just as it had done when they were young.
Ada let out a shaky breath, and tears began to wend their way down her cheeks. When he tried to pull back, she clutched at his hand.
“No, no, it’s all right,” she told him, sniffing. “It’s good. It’s nice.”
Ah. Happy tears, or at least tears of relief. He hugged her, and then he offered his other hand as well.
“Can we sit on the floor?” she asked uncertainly.
Just like when they were kids. Tor grinned at her.
“Of course we can.”
They slid down onto the ground, facing one another with their legs crossed, and Ada was more confident this time when she reached out, twining their fingers together and smiling tremulously through her tears.
Pel found them like that some time later. He smiled softly and came over to lean down and press a kiss to Tor’s forehead.
“Anything you need?” he asked.
Tor considered this. “I don’t think so. Ada?”
She shook her head. Her eyes were closed, and she hadn’t even opened them when Pel came into the room. Her face was utterly at peace, and Tor felt a lump in his throat at the knowledge that he hadn’t seen her look like this in years.
Pel settled on the couch so that Tor could lean against his leg, another point of connection.
Var found them next. (They still checked in on one another frequently, and Tor wasn’t totally sure how they were going to cope with not all living in the same place.) He looked a little puzzled at first, and then he saw Ada’s face, and his expression went soft and fond.
He joined them on the floor without hesitation, and set both his hands over Ada’s and Tor’s joined ones that were closest to him.
Ada’s eyes opened, but there was no concern in them. She just smiled at her brother. They unclasped those hands so that Var could twine his fingers with them instead.
They were now Tendrilling between the three of them, something they hadn’t done in…
goddess, nearly a decade? It had been before Var assumed the throne, anyway.
Neither Var nor Ada had Tendrilled with Tor after their marriages, and now Tor couldn’t figure out why.
He was bonded to Pel, after all, but it was still nice to have this connection with his siblings.
The almost-forgotten but familiar warmth of his siblings’ magic dancing through him was soothing in a way he couldn’t quite articulate.
Tor wasn’t sure how long they sat like that before Ada finally squeezed their hands and opened her eyes.
“Thank you. Everything is starting to feel like… normal again, like my magic is back to how it used to be, how it’s supposed to be. That was really nice.”
They both hugged her and kissed her on either cheek. For a moment, they clung to one another, and then Ada pulled back with a laugh.
It was Tor who asked, “Do you think we could do this again sometime?” His siblings looked at him, and Tor tried not to feel embarrassed—or deflect and say he just wanted to support Ada. Pel squeezed his shoulder. “We kind of stopped doing it when you two were bonded, and, uh, I miss it.”
Var looked surprised, and Ada looked sad.
She reached out to squeeze his arm. “I’m sorry, Tor. I didn’t think how it would seem to you.” She cleared her throat and admitted, “I wasn’t sure if you’d be able to tell that something was wrong with my bond with Thurnil, and I wouldn’t risk it.”
Tor covered her hand with his own. He still didn’t agree with all the decisions she’d made, but she’d done what she thought was best—and she’d suffered for it.
Var hugged them both. Tor was strongly in favor of all these hugs.
“I’m sorry, too,” his twin confessed. “I got wrapped up in all my duties and having a partner, and like Ada, I didn’t think about what it would be like for you. We can definitely do this again. Whenever we’re together.”
That would be highly impractical, but Tor wasn’t going to complain. He had Pel now, and he loved Tendrilling with him, but he still wanted this connection with his family. Assuming he could explain everything to Var and a future connection was possible.
But moments like this really made it feel like he had his brother back, and that made him believe that they could sort this out. Instead of rushing in, though, and possibly messing things up, Tor really was going to wait until Var said he was ready. He wanted every variable possible in his favor.