Chapter One
Tor
Up! Your Highness! Wake up! Prince Torex! I really must insist—!”
It took a few moments for the irritating voice to penetrate Tor’s deep slumber. He tried to cling to the last vestiges of sleep, enjoying the feeling of cozy warmth and contentment that came with a fuzzy head, but the insistent voice repeated itself until Tor conceded that he wasn’t going to be able to get back to sleep—at least not until he dealt with the voice.
He reluctantly slitted open his eyes to find that it was Yomil, his brother’s stick-in-the-mud advisor, who was staring down at him with a pinched expression, disgust not even veiled in his eyes.
“What?” Tor demanded.
There was a slim chance there was a valid reason he was being woken.
“The High King requires your presence,” Yomil intoned as though he were importing words from the goddess herself. Tor barely restrained an eye roll.
“Is it urgent?” he grumbled.
The man’s lips pinched even tighter, and he sounded censorious as he said, “It is the High King’s command.”
Tor gave in and rolled his eyes this time; he should have known better than to ask. Yomil was a stickler for protocol, punctuality, and being proper in every conceivable way.
Tor could try to ignore him, but he knew from experience that he either wouldn’t leave or that he’d come back with increasing frequency until it really wasn’t worth being in bed, even on principle.
“I’ll be there soon,” Tor said on a sigh.
Yomil’s lips compressed even further, until it looked almost like he had no lips at all—not an improvement to his long, thin face thatneverhad a pleasant expression on it.
Tor raised an eyebrow and asked with would-be innocence, “Or would you prefer that I attend the High King while naked? Certainly, if that’s what you believe the situation demands…”
He moved to fling back the bedsheets.
Yomil’s eyes widened, the look of horror on his face at least a change from the perpetual disapproval, and then he fled.
A deep-throated chuckle joined Tor’s laugh, and there was a murmur of sleepy protest from the blond woman sandwiched between them.
“You’ll pay for that later,” Rin said with a grin.
Tor climbed out of bed with a groan, his head whirling as he tried to acclimate to the upright position.
“Don’t I anyway?” he asked wryly.
Rin knew better than to vouchsafe a response. Instead, as he watched Tor try to find the clothing he’d discarded in a rather distracted state the night before, he snaked his arm around the pretty woman in the bed, a hand settling comfortably over one breast.
Tor cast his best friend a look, but Rin grinned unapologetically. It was part of why Tor liked him so much. He was a fantastic knight and an excellent friend, but he didn’t take life needlessly seriously. Tor’s brother could learn so many lessons from the two of them.
Dressed, Tor took a last, regretful glance at the duo in the bed, and then he left them to their entertainment. There was a guard standing outside the door. Tor considered taking exception to that but decided it was probably his brother or Yomil trying to be officiously helpful rather than asses—ensuring Tor was protected as much as ensuring he went where he was told.
He briefly considered what would happen if he veered off to a location that wasnothis brother’s throne room. But he was awake, his head was pounding, and it seemed better to get this confrontation over with so that he could continue on with the rest of his day.
Once his brother got an idea into his head, he was the definition of stubborn.
Tor wished he could see a healer before the impending scolding—he didn’t know what it was for, but he knew there’d be a scolding—but Varex had forbidden them from healing Tor’s hangovers, claiming it was a waste of magic. Tor wasn’t arguing that his hangover should be cured before serious injuries, but if the castle healer had a spare moment…?
Varex had been king for the past seven years, and unfortunately, Tor had seen each one of those years impact the behavior of his brother to the point that sometimes he felt as though he couldn’t even recognize him—which was absurd given that he had only to look into the mirror to see a perfect reflection. Of course, Varex would be the first to point out that what was on the outside didn’t necessarily reflect what was on the inside.
Tor reached the throne room, blew out a breath, and determined not to let it nettle him that Varex had taken to meeting with him here like he was purely the king and not also Tor’s brother.
Nodding at the guards stationed outside the doors, Tor passed through once they hauled them open. The room was large and ostentatious, meant to impress. The floor was marble, the vaulted ceilings were high, and the walls displayed the banners of all six realms. Varex was High King and ruled over them all. Alossa, and its capital city of Nexa, was his seat of power, so those banners were the biggest and most extravagant.
