The last time he’d been so close was on the other side of the western mountain range, on King Nostex’s land. The exiles had been raiding, the losses heavy, and Tor as captain of the High King’s guard had been sent in to sort everything out.
They’d stopped the exiles, but at a cost, and when Tor had returned to Alossa, he’d been stripped of his rank. He glared at the mountains, sure they were responsible for such unwanted introspection.
Recklessly irresponsible, Varex had said.
Tor turned himself resolutely away from the mountains and tried to focus only on getting to the castle in Baless.
He’d have to be Prince Torex from this point onward, he supposed. He was now in King Forex’s realm, and if he was courting one of his children, he had to do it as himself the whole time. He had one mission, and that was to appear to court Prince Pelun with enough seriousness that people believed he wanted to bond with the man. And then Varex could panic, and everything would be resolved the way Tor wanted.
He just needed to get to the castle andfindPrince Pelun, because Tor had been wracking his brain, and he still couldn’t picture the other man at all.Everyonehad come to Nexa for Varex’s marriage five years ago. He remembered Prince Bavil, because the man had laughed a lot and been very pretty. He liked to flirt with the ladies, and he’d easily captured Tor’s attention. He even remembered Larexa, if he wasn’t mistaken; she’d only recently come into her Extraordinary magic, which was rare enough that it occasioned comment. He hadn’t paid that much attention, as she couldn’t have been more than sixteen. But try as he might, he couldn’t remember Pelun. But he must have been there.
Tor ran through the possibilities again. Was there a teen he hadn’t been paying that much attention to? But Pelun must have been in his twenties. Bavil was nearly Tor’s age, he was pretty sure. Maybe Pelun was much closer in age to his sister?
Tor shrugged it off. It would become obvious once he arrived. And then all Tor had to do was seduce him, which was one of his best skills. This was going to be a piece of cake.
Chapter Five
Pel
Pel started the day the way he always did. He woke up early. He cleaned up, shaved, and dressed, then headed down to the kitchen to grab something to eat. There was a formal breakfast later, but Pel didn’t want to wait that long—nor did he particularly want to spend more time with his family than he had to. There were only so many annoyed looks, rolling of eyes, and snide comments that he could stand.
Unsurprisingly, when the Unremarkable removed himself from the equation, everyone else got along smoothly. It wasn’t as though Pel had asked to be born into the royal family, and he’d certainly not chosen to have so little magic.
He remembered plenty of fun years in his childhood, running around and playing without any self-consciousness or awareness of any difference between himself and his siblings.
It had all started to change when he Manifested, and it had gotten worse three years ago. Now, they all functioned best when they ignored one another, and that was fine with Pel. What was the point of spending time with people when they didn’t want to spend time with him? Just because they were related to one another didn’t mean they had anything in common.
That had been amply demonstrated over the years.
So Pel had his nice peaceful breakfast without any catty comments, and then he headed out to the stables to see his horse, check in with the stable hands, and make sure that the night had gone well.
It wasn’t Pel’s job to check in with people. Actual issues should have been reported to the King or to Bavil, but Pel found that, perhaps as a result of the magical status that he deplored, people seemed to find it easier to talk to him. Pel was able to make suggestions and recommendations as a result, just little ideas here and there, maybe nipping a problem in the bud before it became something that needed to be reported to the King.
Once upon a time, Pel had assumed he might one day marry—but that wasn’t likely to happen if no ruler would consider him. He wasn’t handsome and Illustrious like Bavil, or beautiful and Extraordinary like Larexa. No, he was just Pel, and he had it on excellent authority that he wasn’t worth even common courtesy, never mind actual consideration for courting. And yet despite that fact, Pel was equally aware that if he tried to marry a common citizen, his father would be outraged—unless perhapstheywere Extraordinary, but those most magical folks were few and far between. If someone did appear, they were much more likely to be interested in either of Pel’s more appealing siblings (or royalty from a larger realm).
So Pel focused on making sure their people were taken care of to the best of his ability. He greeted his mare, Extraordinary. (Pel had been eight, and his very own horse had seemed like the most amazing thing ever.) She nickered, ears pricked forward, and let him stroke her strong neck. She was soon saddled, and he mounted up and headed out to check in at the outlying farms and see if there were any concerns. The planting season would be upon them soon, but they’d had a lot of rain.
Pel wasn’t a farming expert, but since he’d been basically ignored from the age of sixteen, he knew how nice it was to feel listened to and valued. He could bring that to others even if he couldn’t seem to achieve it for himself.
(If he pointed out that they’d been at peace for twenty-five years and it didn’t actually matter if someone Extraordinary could shield themselves and others with pure magic, he was simply accused of sour grapes. No one wanted any viewpoint other than that Extraordinary were wonderful, and Unremarkable were commonplace and uninteresting.)
So Pel would listen to the farmers complain that the winters were getting colder and longer. It was even worse over the mountain, or so they were theorizing, because the raids from the exiles were getting worse.
King Forex accused the exiles of trying to sabotage the realm, but they were stealing grain and other food stuff. Pel thought it a lot more likely that they were starving than that they were plotting.
King Forex was running out of patience, however, and they all knew it.
The exiles had been banished, and High Queen Ralexa, King Varex’s mother, had declared that the land beyond the mountain was theirs. But Pel knew his father still dreamed of a realm that was larger than the one his had been reduced to. The easiest way to expand was over that mountain, taking back the land that had once belonged to Tond.
Pel couldn’t see the value in trying to oust the exiles and offending the High King, but maybe that was because he’d been three when the war ended. Bavil remembered a little more, while Larexa hadn’t even been born yet. They’d grown up in peace, and Pel wished everyone would keep looking forward instead of back.
He’d learned the hard way over the years that the only behavior he could change was his own. He’d keep being approachable and responsible, and maybe one day, his family would realize the value in that.
He was on his way back from his rounds and had just reached a crossroads when he became aware of another rider on horseback coming up the road that led from Lotar. As he drew closer, Pel recognized the bearing of a guard, and then he was near enough for Pel to see he was wearing a helmet branded with the High King’s crest. Alarm jolting through him, Pel straightened and scanned for signs of further threat, but it seemed to be just this lone man, who was rather sodden from the rain.
A messenger from the High King? Pel could only imagine how his father would react to that. They got monthly packets of mail, of course, but they seemed to receive special missives almost exclusively when there was a great life event and it would be impossibly rude to exclude them.
Pel couldn’t imagine why they wouldwantto join the High Family, but maybe that was just him. Apparently, hanging out with lots of other highly magical people and spending a lot of time dancing, drinking, and being impressed with how wonderful everyone supposedly was appealed to many.
