Pel blew out a breath. “Yes, I suppose. But I would have enjoyed dancing with you when I didn’t want to punch you in the face.”
Tor laughed softly. “Yes, that was pretty awkward. Would it help to know that it was onlyoneof the most awkward dances I’ve ever experienced?”
Pel grinned, even though Tor couldn’t see him. “Only if you tell me all about it.”
He could hear the smile in Tor’s voice. “Well, the thing about being the High Prince is that I’m kind of in demand. Being the identical brother of the High Crown Prince—and then High King—was a whole level of confusion on its own. People always wanted to connect with me, but it was almost never for me as me, you know? They were hoping for political power or other advancement. Or maybe they’d been instructed to try to seduce or charm me by their parents, and they didn’t even want to be there. Or perhaps they actually liked me but knew nothing could come of it. Or they were too young and clearly had a bit of a crush, and I had to be gentle with their fragile feelings, not give them hope, and ensure that I didn’t start a war with anyone.”
Pel snorted. “All right, maybe it’s not so bad to have no one interested in you.”
Pel had always scoffed at the people fawning over Bavil and Larexa—never mind Tor—but he hadn’t thought much about what it must be like for them, always being chased but rarely being desired for themselves.
He’d assumed they must like it, he realized, and that was pretty short-sighted. Or even if they did like it, it didn’t mean it didn’t come at a cost.
“You know,” Pel admitted quietly, “I don’t think I’ve been very fair to people who aren’t in my situation.”
Tor laughed but pressed a kiss to his hair. “But I don’t think people in my situation have been very fair to people in yours.”
Which really just made both sides wrong rather than justifying their actions. Pel had always seen it as very one-sided, but it clearly wasn’t that simple.
“Can I, uh, ask you a weird question?”
It was a little easier to do this when they were tucked so cozily together and Pel didn’t have to look at the man.
“Of course.”
Quietly, he said, “What, uh, does Tendrilling feel like?”
“You ha—”
Tor cut off the question before it could be fully formed because Pel was obviously asking for a reason.
“I haven’t actually Tendrilled that many people,” Tor answered after a moment. “As you know, it doesn’t mean anything in and of itself.”
Most children, once they Manifested, Tendrilled with friends and family, or with their sweethearts once they started courting. They were curious. Pel’s one moment of Tendrilling was when he’d been Presented to his father after he’d Manifested. When the King had assessed his magical strength and given him the name of Pelun, the final wedge that had driven them apart.
After that, Pel had refused to Tendril with anyone, even Bavil and Larexa when they’d offered. Just the idea had been appalling, a representation of every way that he’d disappointed his father, the fear that every subsequent person would feel the same.
Tor continued, “Even though it should be something that anyone can do, and it’s not like Tendrilling means a bond, Var and I were both careful. We didn’t want anyone to get their hopes up, deliberately or otherwise. And it’s not like magical compatibility matters if we’re spending a night or two with someone.”
Pel supposed that was true.
Tor resumed stroking his hair, and Pel shamelessly pushed into his hand.
“It’s nice, though,” Tor told him, voice soft and thoughtful. “I used to do it with Varex a lot, and I still do it occasionally with Ada and Rin, although Ada hasn’t since her marriage. Nor Varex. Maybe because they’ve bonded, they feel like they shouldn’t? Or they don’t want to? I don’t know. The first moment is a bit odd, your magic and someone else’s connecting. And then it’s a feeling of… possibility, I suppose. Potential. I’ve heard that it can be stunning if you’re highly compatible, but like I said, I wasn’t on the hunt for highly compatible partners.”
“I guess a lot of people must be curious what it’s like to Tendril the High Prince.”
Tor groaned. “Yes, everyone wants a piece of me. And back to most awkward dances, I once had someone Tendril me in the middle of the dance floor, at which point we realizedwe were completely incompatible. I have never felt so strong an urge to get away from someone, like our magic was trying to repel us, and we had to keep dancing.”
Pel made a face. “That must have been awful.”
Tor huffed a breath. “It wasn’t great. We stuck it out through the dance so no one would notice, but I avoided her after that. She pretended it didn’t happen, I never told anyone, and when my brother wouldn’t listen to me about bonding, I ran as far away from him as I could get.”
Pel was pretty sure that was the wrong thing to have done, but it had brought Tor to him, so he couldn’t regret the man’s choice.
Clearing his throat, Pel admitted, “If I’m being perfectly truthful, I would kind of prefer if you weren’t the High Prince.”
Tor laughed, not seeming the slightest bit offended, which was good, because it wasn’t until it came out of his mouth that Pel realized just how rude it sounded.
