“Yeah, when you were about sixteen,” she said with an eye roll.
Tor straightened, not liking Ada’s tone. “Wait. Are you serious?”
Her amusement fell away. She glanced away for a moment and then back at him, her blue eyes a little wary. “I’m… kind of serious? I mean, obviously, you haven’t been drunk for twenty years. But you seem to be of the opinion that your drinking is directly proportional to how much fun you can have, and your goal in recent years has seemed to be to have as much fun as possible at all possible times.”
A prickle ran down Tor’s spine. He was fully aware that Varex—and Fernila and Yomil—thought he drank too much, but Tor had been more than halfway certain that was simply them being stick-in-the-muds. The more time Varex spent as High King, the more sober and less fun-loving he got. Tor hadn’t taken that sort of scolding seriously in years.
But Ada telling him this in all seriousness was something else.
“I… hadn’t noticed.”
It was an inadequate response and probably revealed just how disturbed he was, because Ada leaned over to lay a hand on his arm, and Tor had a flashback to Var continually doing this to Fernila. He realized he’d tensed up and made an effort to relax.
“I don’t mean to upset you… but before Var gave you this order, when’s the last time you didn’t have at least one drink in a day?”
Tor wracked his brain… and couldn’t immediately come up with an answer. He didn’t exactly track his daily drinking habits, but he knew how he spent most of his evenings. And occasional afternoons. Or mornings, if the entertainment had been going really well and lasted all night…
“I’m not sure,” he admitted, troubled. “Maybe not since I was captain of the guard.”
Which wastwo years ago.
Ada came over to perch on the side of his chair and lean into him. He slipped an arm around her and hugged her back before he could decide if he was annoyed with her.
They didn’t see one another as often now, since she rarely came to Nexa. The last time Thurnil had come with her, he’d made a number of asinine suggestions which Varex had rightly ignored, and there had been some… friction. Tor wasn’t sure if it was Thurnil or Ada who had ensured that it didn’t recur. Ada insisted she was doing what she wished. He knew she adored Par and Hena, so when she said she didn’t want to miss them growing up…
Tor worried that Ada was doing what was best for everyone else, and not for herself. He didn’t want to do the same.
Chapter Three
Tor
Thurnil and Solil had both been absent from dinner. It turned out that Solil had left a week or so ago for Vayrin, and Tor felt a surge of desperate hope that he’d manage to catch Terila’s eyes, and Tor would have nothing to worry about. It seemed, unfortunately, not very likely, but maybe Tor could get lucky. Thurnil’s absence was unexplained, but Tor didn’t make a fuss about it, because he’d much prefer the man not be there. After dinner and once a reluctant Hena had been put to bed, Tor spent a bit of time with Par, who’d asked to speak with him.
They were seated together on a couch in one of the sitting rooms on the same floor as the nursery. The furniture looked sturdier and better-suited to children than some of the fancier rooms that Tor had seen. Tor angled his body so that he was closer to facing Par.
Last time he’d visited Ada, Par had been Para, and he seemed a little anxious about Tor’s reaction, fidgeting as he asked if Tor minded.
There was a hollow ache in Tor’s chest, and he wondered if he’d done something to make Par doubtful. But the only important thing now was acceptance and reassurance.
“You can express yourself however you want,” Tor told him firmly.
Par made a face, hesitated for a long moment, and then blurted out, “Sometimes it changes. Tomorrow, I might be Para again.”
Tor blinked at this and said a bit blankly, “Oh. Well, that’s fine.”
Par raised an eyebrow sharply and looked at him with an eleven-year-old’s scorn. Tor’s shoulders relaxed at that unfiltered reaction.
“Sorry.” Tor laughed a little. “I probably sound foolish. It’s not something I’ve ever experienced, but if that’s what feels right to you, then that’s what you should do. Do you like to be referred to as she when you’re Para and he when you’re Par? Or do you prefer they? Or something else? Did I get it wrong?”
Par’s body seemed to loosen, and he smiled at Tor. “No, the first one. She for Para and he for Par.”
“I can do that,” Tor confirmed. He frowned as a thought occurred to him. “No one’s giving you any trouble, are they?”
Shaking his head, Par said with supreme assurance, “Father would flatten them.”
From everything Tor had heard, King Stronex had been fierce in battle. He was one of the rulers who’d sprung up during the war, when the original sovereign and the whole royal family had been killed, and the Fealty of the realm had passed on… unexpectedly. Normally, it was inherited by family, by bond or by blood, but if there was no family left, the goddess gifted it to the person of her choice. Stronex had been naturally Extraordinary, and people had rallied around him. Had he not decided to support Tor’s parents and the call for peace at the end, there was no saying what might have happened. He’d been nothing but supportive and non-aggressive since then, which was essential to their continued peace—but Tor still liked the idea of him crushing anyone who didn’t treat his children the way they deserved.
“Good,” Tor said firmly, smiling at Par. “You should always be able to show the world who you are.” Then he hastened to add, “I mean, if you want to.”
