Chapter Twenty-Five
Tor
The next day, Var asked to speak with Tor privately. Pel was way more relaxed since they’d finally cleared the air about the exiles and treason, so he didn’t look more than mildly concerned when Tor squeezed his arm and agreed to talk with his brother.
He’d spent so many years wanting his brother to actually listen to him.
(And yes, a small, petty part of himself had considered refusing, but he was done letting his petty impulses sabotage everything.
He had a chance to rebuild his relationship with his brother, and that was the best feeling ever.)
He and Var found an unoccupied sitting room where they (probably) wouldn’t be interrupted. Var sat down on one of the couches and patted the cushion next to him. Tor joined him, and they both turned a little so that they could look at one another.
“I need to apologize,” Var said.
“It’s all right,” Tor immediately demurred.
Honestly, after everything that had happened, after all the secrets…
But Tor’s brother shook his head, a stubborn expression on his face that Tor recognized.
“No, it really isn’t. You told me that you needed to talk to me and waited for me to be ready. You explained what both of us did wrong. You took responsibility for your actions—something I’ve been harping on about for years. But I never took responsibility for mine.”
“The treason and the not-treason cancel one another out, remember?” Tor half-joked.
Var smiled faintly, but his eyes were grave.
“You did the right thing both times, and I went about everything all wrong. I was a fool to trust Yomil as much as I did, and looking back, I can see now how he played into my insecurities and worked to drive a wedge between us—but the fact remains that I let it happen.”
Voice smaller than he intended, Tor swallowed and asked, “Why did you?”
Var sighed, his expression pained, making him look suddenly a lot older.
“Mostly because I’m a fool. I wasn’t ready when Mother died.
I thought I’d have years—decades—before I became King.
I thought there’d be so much more time to learn from her.
Instead, I became High King at twenty-eight, knowing that I wasn’t half the ruler she was, that I suddenly had the responsibility of maintaining the peace of the entirety of the United Realms, the one that she had instituted.
It felt like so much pressure, almost more than I could bear. ”
Sympathy and irritation swelled up in Tor like a toxic tide. “I could have helped.”
Var nodded. “I wish I’d seen that.” He closed his eyes for a moment and then opened them again. “I imagine your attempts to get me to relax were meant to, uh, get me to relax?”
Tor eyed him, puzzled. “Yes?”
Var nodded a little, his expression resigned. “There was so much to do, and I didn’t see it like an attempt to help me. I knew I needed to focus, and it felt like you were trying to distract me, to lead me to fail.”
Tor sucked in a sharp breath, feeling a hollow pang in his chest. “I wouldn’t ever!”
“I know,” Var said, his eyes pleading. “I know! I think I used you as a scapegoat, even though I didn’t mean to, justifying my path by putting down your suggestions.
” He grimaced. “I can’t be certain since some of it happened years ago, but I think Yomil was carefully nudging me down that path, too.
Just little comments here and there about lack of discipline or understanding or responsibility.
Careful acknowledgment of my own lack of experience—never dwelt on, just enough to subtly undermine.
And he was Mother’s advisor and had so much experience…
I relied on him too much, and it never occurred to me to question his integrity. ”
Tor had never liked Yomil—especially once Var took the throne—but it hadn’t occurred to him that the man might be an actual traitor, either.
“I should have been more critical,” Var castigated himself.
“I was in other areas. I developed my own way of dealing with matters pertaining to the realms. In hindsight, there were times early in my reign when I think Yomil might have been trying to get me to make mistakes. Showing me unfit to rule may have been Nostex’s first plan.
But Mother taught us well, and I adhered to all of her principles and what I thought was right for our people. ”
Tor couldn’t quite quash his resentment. “I’m one of your people, too.”
“You are,” Var agreed gravely. “I was a little jealous of you.”
Tor straightened, surprised. “What?”
Var nodded, expression rueful. “You had so much freedom, and I didn’t. I was under so much pressure, and you weren’t. And instead of thinking about that logically and working with you to even our responsibilities, I came to feel like you were the one being irresponsible.”
Honestly compelled Tor to admit, “I was irresponsible sometimes. You weren’t wrong about the drinking and carousing.”
“But we both know it didn’t start out like that,” Var acknowledged.
“It got worse when you had nothing else to do. After what happened with the exiles in Filon, I really started to worry that you might cause the realms harm. Not deliberately,” he hastened to add, “but through negligence. Yomil and Fernila both told me I couldn’t see you clearly because you were my brother, and I started to fear they were right.
” Var grimaced. “Fernila and I have talked about it the last few days, and it turns out her father was carefully poisoning her against you for years, ascribing motives to you that you never had, building up the idea that you resented her and the baby, that you were jealous of me.”
Tor cleared his throat and admitted, “I did seduce her attendants just to annoy her.”
Var let out a snort of laughter that appeared to surprise him, and they both grinned briefly at one another.
More seriously, Tor admitted, “I was jealous of her. If we’re talking about scapegoats, I blamed her for our lack of closeness. Easier than admitting that you outgrew me.”
“Never that,” Var hastened to assure him, his blue eyes painfully earnest. It made Tor’s eyes sting.
“I failed to reach out when I should have and then struggled to stay afloat in a mess of my own making. I told myself that the safety and wellness of the United Realms was more important than anything, and I wouldn’t let anyone get in the way of that, even you.
I let that and Yomil and Nostex shape too much of how I looked at you and the United Realms, and I shouldn’t have. ”
Tor sniffed. “Nostex and Yomil were smart. They were working against us for years, and they nearly succeeded. We’re not totally to blame for falling for their tricks.”
They weren’t totally not to blame, though. Var looked like he was thinking the same thing.
“Speaking of tricks,” Tor said, since this seemed like a good moment, “it turns out that Yomil and Nostex started setting me up a long time ago.” His throat was thick, and it was harder to get the words out than he expected.
“There, uh, really was a letter that told me to send the guards into the mountains after the exiles. It was replaced with your real letter afterwards.”
There was a moment where Var just stared at him as though he didn’t understand what Tor was saying, and then his spine snapped straight, and his eyes spit fire.
“Yomil!”
Tor nodded. “I assume so. I still should have been more critical of any orders I received, but I did—” His voice caught. “I did follow what I thought was your order.”
“Oh, Tor, I’m so sorry.”
Var pulled Tor into his arms, and Tor buried his face in his brother’s chest and practiced his deep breathing as his eyes burned. Var’s arms were a warm band around him, holding him close.
Somewhat muffled by Var’s chest, he explained how he’d found Ondun and the eight other former Alossans amongst the exiles, how only two had died the night of the raid. Which was still two too many, but it was so much better than twelve.
Var pressed a kiss to the top of his head, and Tor sat back up and wiped at his eyes.
“I’m so glad,” his brother said, his own voice rough.
“I imagine it becomes tiresome and sounds like nothing but an excuse as I keep repeating it, but Yomil was cautioning me to treat the situation with the utmost gravity. He harped on and on about the loss of lives caused by your reckless behavior, and I didn’t know how to reconcile the situation beyond ensuring that it couldn’t ever happen again.
Yomil was pushing for more severe consequences, even a public punishment or jail time, but I was sure it was a tragic mistake.
I tried to balance protecting you with the needs of the people, but I can see now that I didn’t listen to your side at all. That wasn’t fair to you.”
Something loosened in Tor’s chest that had been wound tight for a long time. All he’d ever wanted was for his brother to meet him halfway.
Tor could therefore admit, “I know I didn’t help by defending myself the way I did. I was constantly on the defensive, and looking back, that probably seemed like I wasn’t willing to take any of the blame.”
Var sighed. “We were heaping blame upon you. Of course you struggled under it. Why is it so much easier to see all this now?”
Tor’s lips tipped up. “Because we’re less emotional now and have two years of distance with which to regard it.”
Var’s face twisted up with sudden fury. “And I’m no longer listening to the man who orchestrated the whole thing through base trickery. That rat!”
This surprised a laugh out of Tor. “We both let them direct our actions far more than we should have.”
Var wasn’t letting himself off that easily. “And yet only one of us bound the other’s magic and threw them in the dungeon on suspicion of treason.”
“True,” Tor acknowledged. He swallowed. “I can forgive you. But I’m not sure I can forget it.”