Varex might be blind, but Tor wasn’t, which was why he was coming to see Ada, hopefully avoid Prince Thurnil, and mostly stay out of King Stronex’s way.
Varex and Gornexi were the only two rulers who hadn’t fought for land and power, both the children of rulers who’d fought in the war. Sometimes, Tor thought it would be better if all of them had passed their rule on to someone else. But of course, no one would have agreed to that, and fighting for that particular principle would just have led to more deaths throughout the realms.
Tor knew this system was far from perfect—and knew that he’d come out nearly at the very top of this particular power structure—but he also remembered the fighting and the fear that had seeped into his childhood.
This was better. Each realm had retained its autonomy. There were still Queens, Kings, or Sovereigns of each land. Varex was simply the High King to whom they all pledgedtheirFealty, and that meant that all their people by association were similarly pledged.
They’d redrawn borders and agreed that peace was the most important consideration if they didn’t want to wipe one another out and leave a barren rock in the middle of the ocean.
United, Tor thought they stood a chance. But he was aware that humans weren’t always very good at being thankful for what they had without wanting more (and more and more).
Tor thought his needs were quite prosaic. He wasn’t trying to take over anything. He didn’t want to fight with any of his neighbors. He simply didn’t want tomarryany of his neighbors, either. That wasn’t so unreasonable, was it?
He loved his sister desperately, but any time he spent with her, he was filled with a renewed desire not to be trapped like she was.
But Varex never listened when Tor tried to bring that up, and Ada had insisted that her marriage wasn’t a topic she’d discuss with either of her brothers. She was always delighted to see Tor, though, even if she sidestepped his questions about how she was really doing.
They hugged for a long time, and Tor clasped her smaller form to him and wished futilely that he could turn back time. Just one decade, and their mother would still be alive, they’d still be at peace, and Ada wouldn’t be trapped in this marriage.
If only magic worked like that.
Failing that, he wished that he could scoop her up and just… carry her back to Nexa, where she’d once been safe and happy. Of course, she’d probably punch him in the nose if he tried.
Her husband, Prince Thurnil, was a couple of years younger than she was, and as far as Tor had ever been able to observe, he generally acted as though he wasn’t married. Never quite to the point that Tor could drag him back to Varex and demand the bond be dissolved—the risks outweighed by the benefits—but certainly not with the care and devotion that Ada deserved. He was very handsome, and he had pretty manners when he wanted to… but like Tor had tried to explain about Terila, there was more than looks to be concerned about in a life-long bond.
Tor tried to visit Ada frequently, spending time with her until she finally sent him away again before he could actually get into a fistfight with her husband or perhaps just run him through with his sword and have done entirely.
“It would start a war,” Ada always pointed out. “And you know what else might happen.”
It was that latter that was the only thing that stayed Tor’s hand some days. Once two people bonded and their magic entwined, it was almost impossible to sever. Death broke it—and sometimes it took the other partner or partners with it. As the High King, with the Fealty of both Ada and Thurnil, Varexmightbe able to pick it apart safely, but there still wasn’t a guarantee.
And it would mean Varex admitting he’d done the wrong thing in forcing Ada into this marriage.
“You deserve better than this,” Tor told her.
Ada’s blue eyes—so like his own—flashed, and she regarded him with exasperation. “It’s not nearly as bad as you act like it is. There are many wonderful things here.”
Tor sighed. It was true that the rest of the family seemed to be much better than Thurnil himself was, although Tor maintained that wasn’t saying much. King Stronex was serious and dour, at least in most of the interactions that Tor had had with him, although that beak of a nose might have been throwing Tor off, buthewasn’t married to Tor’s sister, and he’d always been scrupulously polite when Tor was here. Solil, second in line to the throne, seemed good enough, but sort of… ineffectual. An adequate father- and brother-in-law was hardly going to fill Ada’s life with joy.
Stronex’s two children with his second wife, however, were a different matter. Par and Hena were 11 and 5, respectively, and they were the sweetest children that Tor had ever met. (At least until Cala. Once Cala made it out of babyhood, she would obviously be the best child that had ever existed.) Par and Hena adored Ada and seemed to shower her with the love that her husband failed to show her.
“Here are Hena and Par,” Ada told him with the sappy smile she always had for her little siblings-in-law.
“Uncle Tor!” Hena cried as she raced for him, her face lit up. “It’s been so long since you came to visit!”
Tor swept her up into his arms. “Hey, there, sweetheart. Wow, you’ve gotten so big!” He pretended to fumble her as if she were too heavy for him, making her shriek with laughter. “I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner. It’s been busy in Nexa, that’s all.”
Her dark eyes were lit with excitement, deep set in a face that was several shades darker than his own. Thankfully, it still didn’t look like she was set to inherit her father’s nose. Her dark hair was pulled back in a simple braid.
“I’ve got so much to show you!” she told him gleefully.
“I look forward to it.”
Last time he’d visited, she’d been collecting rocks. He’d managed to come up with an inordinate number of compliments for a vast array of stones that had seemed very similar to him, and he really hoped that her interests had shifted by now. But he’d rise to the challenge if required.
As he set Hena down, Par waved at him from his position beside Ada, a gesture which Tor returned. He always took the best care of his little sister and let her and her excitement go first.
Thurnil was never delighted by Tor’s visits, perhaps because he’d realized that if he stepped a toe too obviously out of line while Tor was here, he would not hesitate to hand Thurnil’s ass to him. Thurnil was careful never to be too rude or cause too many rumors, leaving Tor to glower and mistrust him impotently. The man absented himself as often as possible, and Tor had to be contented with that.
