He let it go for a moment and then couldn’t help asking, “What makes a staircase choice?”
She offered him a look of such astonishment that he really thought she was serious for a moment when she told him, “Why, everything! Windows, whether the stairs are straight or winding, how deep the tread is, how much it’s worn away. How narrow they are. Whether there’s a railing. Whether there are a number of other people taking the stairs who are in more of a hurry than you are.”
Grinning, Tor conceded, “My goodness. I see that I haven’t thought it through sufficiently. I’ll have to take a look at all the staircases when I get home. Now I wonder if a number of them need repairs.”
Her eyes were a little startled as they raised to his, but seeing his smile, she returned it as she assured him, “You get used to it.”
Tor imagined that they did, but that didn’t mean they should have to.
Then again, they had an excellent steward in the castle in Nexa, and it was entirely possible that she had this well in hand and there was never a danger of slipping down a staircase that was not in perfect repair. Just because Tor had never thought about it before didn’t mean that no one else had. But now that it had been brought to his attention, he wanted to check.
It was funny how your perspective could shift when you least expected it.
“Here we are, Your Highness.”
The royal suite was large, though smaller than the ones in Lotar and Vayrin. Everything gleamed with that just-polished look that confirmed Tor’s arrival had been aninconvenience. He grimaced, because it hadn’t bothered him about surprising King Forex, but he hadn’t thought about the work he’d generate for the staff. Maybe the stable hand reallyhadbeen rude with reason.
Tor had been a prince since he was born, and he’d become High Prince soon after he turned ten. He’d known that he had a lot of privilege, but he may not have realized the extent to which he took things for granted.
“Your clothes have been taken away to be pressed, Your Highness,” Lashuna told him. “They will be returned in time for you to dress for dinner.”
“Excellent. Thank you.”
“Is there anything else you need?”
He shook his head. “No, everything looks lovely.”
“Perhaps you’d like to rest before dinner?”
Yes, he really should let everyone scurry around and prepare for his last-minute addition.
“A wise idea.”
“As I said, someone will arrive to escort you to dinner, Your Highness.” And then, with a bow, she was gone.
The sitting room had comfy chairs, a couch, and a desk and chair. Plus, there was a fireplace with a cheery fire blazing. The stone certainly held in the chill. The walls were covered in tapestries, these ones brighter than the ones in the corridor. A pastoral scene, the mountains, a forest, and the castle.
Several oil lamps were lit, but there were also crystal lights just waiting for someone Extraordinary to light them. It felt a bit like showing off to light them just for himself, but they gave a superior light to any other option. So he went round the room and touched each crystal, pushing a bit of his magic into the round orb. He could do it without touching the crystals, and he could even leave globs of magic glowing in sconces on their own, but that felt even more pretentious than this option.
There was something about the crystal which magnified the effect of the magic, making it last longer than it would on its own. It would be really useful if only it worked for Illustrious and Unremarkable as well. Extraordinary made up such a small percentage of the population that it was very nearly just a fashionable feature of royal castles.
The room was soon lit with a warm white light, and Tor shook his head at himself, because he really did prefer that steady bright glow.
He was definitely spoiled.
He stepped into the bedroom and lit all those crystals as well. The room had a moderately high ceiling, a canopied bed—blue velvet—a large wardrobe, and another active fireplace.
The bed was huge, and it was a shame that Tor wasn’t going to get to make proper use of it. Well. His lips tipped up. There was no saying what he and Prince Pelun could get up to once they made it to that point. Tor had high hopes.
He prowled around the space, checked to see that yes, indeed, all his clothes were gone, but his shaving kit and few essentials had all been neatly arranged at the vanity.
He finally flopped back onto the bed and tucked his hands behind his head. He stared up at the canopy. The curtains were all tied back in daylight, but they would definitely help retain the heat at night.
He wasn’t sure how long the castle would stay chilly. Would he be here long enough to see spring arrive properly here in the north? His brother was too stubborn to see reason immediately, but Tor was sure he could outlast him.
And the more he thought about it, the more it seemed like he could really do some good with this visit. Less than Tor’s lifetime ago, they’d been at war. A visiting royal wasn’t necessarily an ally, though hopefully not an enemy. There was a good reason for all of them to be visiting one another, for the alliances that Varex wanted—Tor just thought there were all sorts of ways to maintain alliances. Did Tor actually need to marry someone from Vayrin or Tond? Or anywhere? Couldn’t he instead do more of what he had inadvertently done on this journey? It was a pretext, what he’d told Forex, but did it need to be? Couldn’t he address concerns and have bonds of friendship that didn’t requireactual magical bonding?
It was going to be an uphill battle to convince Varex, but perhaps Tor would be able to kill two birds with one stone. He trusted that Varex would believe that bonding Tor to Prince Pelun wasn’t the most strategic option, but maybe Tor could still demonstrate his ability to make connections. They didn’t get out here as often as they should; Tor could change that, could make a difference in this realm just by his unexpected presence. If it worked, maybe he could spend more time with Gornexi and their wife next.
