“That at least one of us is still capable of having fun,” Tor said impatiently, barely resisting the urge to massage his aching temples. “Just because you’ve forgotten doesn’t mean the rest of us have.”
Fernila flushed again, gaze dropping.
“That’s enough!” Varex snapped.
Tor let out an aggravated huff of breath. “Why did you summon me? To tell me that I’m not allowed to have sex with anyone anymore? To restrict how many partners I’m allowed to take to bed at a time? Surely that’s a little excessive, even for you?”
Varex’s jaw clenched, a tell that Tordidshare with him. They were both stubborn, which was a problem in situations like this.
“Your behavior reflects poorly on the Crown,” Varex ground out.
“I don’t see why.” Tor’s grin was particularly satisfied. “I assure you, everyone involved has enjoyed themselves.”
“You’re making an unfavorable impression on those who see you…carousingbefore you finally retire to your room.”
“If others wish to join me, they have only to say so.”
His brother’s jaw tightened again. “You know full well that’s not what I meant! You’re thirty-five years old.”
“Thank you for that reminder.”
Varex was still staring him down with that obnoxiously stern expression. “What was tolerated when you were younger grows less seemly as you age.”
Tor couldn’t help himself. “Actually, I’ll have you know that I’ve improved with age. I’ve never gotten complaints about my performance.”
“I’m complaining about your performance,” Varex ground out.
Tor grinned involuntarily. “Really?Do tell, Brother. Exactly what is it about myperformancethat distresses you?”
There was a fleeting moment where Tor thought Varex was actually going to laugh because this was the most ridiculous conversation ever, but then—
“I don’t believe this is an appropriate conversation.”
At his wife’s prim words, Varex was once again the sober, disapproving monarch he’d become when he married the red-headed shrew. Tor’s heart sank.
“It’s time you performed all your dutiesas High Prince.”
“How have I failed to do so?” Tor challenged. “What have I done that you haven’talsodone at some point?” He cast a look at Fernila. “Or are we pretending none of that ever happened?”
Varex reached out to squeeze his wife’s hand, as though she needed constant reassurance and support and couldn’t simply function as her own person. Narrowing his eyes, Tor squinted at the thrones. He’d never noticed before, but he was pretty sure they hadn’t been this close together when it was their mother and father who’d ruled. Had Varex moved them closer together just so he could soothe his perpetually sensitive wife?
Varex intoned, “What I did prior to my marriage has no bearing upon it—something for which you will be eternally grateful whenyouare married.”
“Fortunately, that’s not something I need to worry about. I have no wish to marry.”
“Nevertheless, it’s time you do so,” Varex said with a worrying amount of finality in his voice.
Tor scoffed. “Why? Your wife has managed to give you an heir.”
Fernila flushed again. Tor still couldn’t understand how someone could have hair that spectacular a color, behave like a mouse, andalsobe a shrew. How Varex could stand it, he couldn’t begin to imagine, and yet he was either putting up the finest front ever, or for some unfathomable reason, he actually liked the woman.
Tor had assumed for years that he was overcompensating in public, but there had never been a crack in his brother’s armor. He chose his wife in every instance over his own flesh and blood, and he seemed genuinely to want her to be comfortable—and happy, although Tor was not actually convinced that was a state which she was capable of attaining.
Varex’s face grew angrier. “Since you are no longer my heir, you cannot simply hide behind that position.”
Tor felt his spine stiffen and his shoulders straighten in automatic response to this attack. He hadn’t asked for this accident of birth.
“I was not aware I was hiding, Brother.”
