If they could all agree that he wasn’t meant to marry Terila, he wouldn’t even mind spending time in Vayrin, either. Filon would be a struggle, thanks to Nostex and his chatter, but for the greater good, Tor would do it. Maybe he could solve all their problems by spending more time visiting.
Well, maybe notalltheir problems, but do a much better job with diplomacy, at least.
He sank further back into the pillow, breathing out slowly, feeling tension he hadn’t realized he was carrying release. He hadn’t had the chance to do much good as the captain of the guard—and that had all been obliterated by how it had ended—but he could also acknowledge he hadn’t done as much with his position as High Prince as he could have. This was a chance to prove himself in more ways than one.
Yes, Tor was going to do it, even if it meant sleeping in every set of royal apartments in every realm.
He was still staring at the canopy of the bed when there was a discreet little tap at the door.
“Come!” Tor called out.
Chapter Seven
Tor
Several servants arrived with his clothes, letting him select what he wanted to wear for dinner and then going to put the rest away.
The good thing about having been sent on a mission to court Terila was that Tor had had quite a selection of clothing when he stopped to see Ada. He’d been unable to bring most of it with him when he was masquerading as Rin, of course, but he had nevertheless packed a key selection to abscond with, each outfit of sufficient quality to work for day, dinner, and entertainment in a royal household.
Tor dressed with care, since he was trying to impress. He didn’t know how the staff had gotten all the wrinkles out so quickly, but he was grateful. He certainly looked more presentable than he had in his travel-stained garments. He selected an undertunic that was green and went to his knees, then pulled on a sleeveless overtunic that was rich blue and decorated with thread of gold. Dark hose, dark shoes, and a gold belt decorated with emeralds completed his ensemble.
A servant bowed to him as soon as he emerged, stiff with tension, and Tor gathered that the man was very much upon his mettle to deliver the prince to the appointed place at the appointed hour. He didn’t look like small talk would help him on his mission, so Tor kept his mouth shut and simply trailed after the tall young man until they made it to the dining room.
This time, Tor had followed most of the twists and turns, and he was pretty sure that within the next day or two, he’d be capable of finding his way to his meals without assistance.
The dining room was large and cavernous, though it was filled only with the royal family. Tor was momentarily distracted by the chandelier that hung over the table. Each dangling piece of crystal was lit with an Extraordinary glow. Not even Varex used a crystal chandelier for a family dinner—but then, the crystal in question came from Tond’s mountains, and Tor assumed this was Forex’ssubtlereminder of that fact.
At the head of the table was the King. To his right was Prince Bavil, whose dashing good looks Tor definitely remembered. He was dark blond with a square chin, dark eyes, pale skin that looked like he got out into the sun periodically, and a flashing smile that Tor recalled rivaled his own, if you liked blonds. (Tor thought that Rin still had a leg up on him because his hair was so very golden and his biceps so very developed, but obviously, it came down to personal preference.) He rose and made his bow to Tor, who returned it.
To the King’s left was Princess Larexa, whom Tor hadn’t been able to bring perfectly to his mind, beyond pretty, young, and very magical. Now he saw that she was dark where her brother was fair. She had glossy brown hair with a bit of a curl that had been arranged loose, charmingly framing her pale face and emphasizing her slender neck. Her eyes were the same dark brown as her brother’s.
She looked like she was at least a head shorter than Tor when she bowed, but she was well-proportioned, and her dress of dark red suited her very well. She smiled brightly, and for an instant, Tor regretted that he wasn’t really looking for someone. But no, that was nonsense. She was too young, and he would definitely find himself in trouble if he even considered taking her to bed.
It was a shame, though, because Bavil and Larexa werebeautiful.
And then there was the fourth person sitting at the table, who rose woodenly to his feet and offered a stiff bow to Tor.
Tor came inelegantly close to gaping before his manners came to the rescue and he bowed in return.
Because the unsmiling, grim-faced man sitting next to Prince Bavil was the stable hand Tor had tangled with earlier.
Thatwas Prince Pelun?
The King gestured for Tor to sit at the free space next to Larexa, and Tor sat mechanically, paying only cursory attention to the King’s opening remarks, all the standard sortof things about being welcome and asking his forgiveness for throwing things together at the last minute—there was tone, since Tor had shown up unannounced, and he made all the appropriate remarks back about how he was sorry to inconvenience them, and he was certain that everything would be wonderful, blah, blah, blah.
But inside, he was still goggling. This was seriously Prince Pelun? Tor had already met him, tangled with his sharp tongue, insulted him, and been insulted in return? This was not, at all, how he’d intended an initial encounter to go.
He couldn’t really blame himself for not remembering the man, though, because he was quite possibly the least remarkable individual Tor had ever encountered. He wasn’t ugly. That, in itself, would have been remarkable. He was simply… plain. So ordinary that you didn’t really notice him.
His hair was an indeterminate, mousy brown, neither as light as his brother’s nor as dark as his sister’s. His eyes had similarly come out lighter in hue, looking ordinary instead of the bright and rich brown that they sported. He wasn’t as tall as his brother nor as short as his sister. He was simply… average. Again. Tor hadn’t actually thought it possible to bring quite so many average features together in one person, and yet they seemed to be achieved here. Bavil had the strong, square jaw. Larexa had the delicately pointed chin. Pelun? A perfectly normal chin. There seemed to be no other way to describe it. Nose, lips, ears, forehead, all the same. All perfectly ordinary with nothing that stood out. Pelun was simply… entirely normal.
It was actually almost unnerving how Tor couldn’t come up with a better word to describe him. Nothing stood out. His face was symmetrical, the features not unattractive, they just… were.
No wonder Tor hadn’t been able to remember him from the wedding. He didn’t think he’d ever spent so long looking at someone who was this unremarkable. Knowing that he was actually Unremarkable on top of this made it doubly unfortunate. Tor couldn’t imagine what the goddess had been doing planting Pelun in between Bavil and Larexa, but the difference was truly striking. Tor realized partway through the meal that he’d spent altogether longer than was polite staring at the man opposite him.
Pelun’s hands were white-knuckled around his cutlery, he was singularly focused on his plate, and he didn’t venture a single word unless he was addressed directly—in which case he said the bare minimum. It could have made for a very stilted meal, but fortunately, Bavil and Larexa were much better hosts, and they strove to cover any conversational gaps.
Forex was drinking steadily and not taking much interest in the conversation now that they were all eating.
