“How is Princess Adexa?” Larexa asked brightly. “It feels like such a long time since I last saw her. It’s so nice, you know, to spend time with someone who’s Extraordinary.”
Tor wasn’t sure what to do with that statement, unless she was making a bid for him? The comment made her father smile, though, and Tor decided to ignore it. Instead, he reported on his recent visit and Ada’s excellent health, never mind that he worried she was horribly unhappy and married to an ass. Instead, he talked about Hena and Par, and the antics of children were enough to make most everyone at the table smile. Pelun, naturally, seemed entirely unaffected by anything that Tor was saying, unless it seemed to make him more annoyed.
Tor would pull him aside as soon as he could, he decided.
Bavil asked about the army, drawing some sort of comparison between himself and Tor and the importance of people like them directing the common folk. Pelun’s hand gripped his fork tighter. King Forex cheerfully agreed with his son and demanded more wine.
Tor had clearly dropped himself into something he didn’t understand at all, so he made a number of general remarks and made sure to highlight the intelligence of his troop and the work they did. Goddess, he hoped things were going all right in Vayrin—hopefully much better than they were going here.
Larexa brought up the baby next, along with her regrets that she hadn’t been able to attend the naming ceremony. That allowed Tor and Bavil to reminisce a little about the event as Tor reassured them that he completely understood why they had been unable to come, but Tor’s family had been happy to have Bavil as their representative.
They managed to make their way through the entire meal like this, and if this was the sort of meal that Forex put out when he had no notice, then it was clear they ate very well. There were six courses, and each of them had an array of dishes that were fancier than what Tor ate on a regular basis. He spent at least half of his time with a troop of guards, and while they were admittedly a well-fed troop of guards at the High King’s castle, they still didn’t usually eat like this.
Tor made sure to compliment the King on his excellent meal.
The man waved this aside. “We might be in the back of beyond, but there is no reason that we cannot eat as well as they do in Alossa.”
That had… really not been what Tor had meant. Bavil and Larexa looked a little embarrassed, but Pelun just looked annoyed. Tor was beginning to think that was his default expression—at least when it came to Tor.
“So you’ve demonstrated amply,” he said with an easy smile, because he’d learned over the years that it was much harder to fight with someone who refused to be insulted.
It was Tor’s mother who’d tried to instill in him the intelligence to check to see if he wanted to be drawn into an argument. It didn’t always work, but Tor tried to remember her lessons.
“We will have drinks,” the King declared abruptly, throwing down his napkin. “Larexa, leave us.”
“Oh, I would be happy to have Princess Larexa join us,” Tor offered.
The King glared at him from under bushy eyebrows and repeated, “Drinks. Larexa doesn’t mind.”
“Indeed not, Father, Prince Torex,” she assured them with a gracious smile. “Take your time.”
She left, and when Tor turned back to the table, Forex and Pelun were both glaring, and Bavil looked as though he was trying to look relaxed with only marginal success.
Tor hadn’t meant to upset the daily order; he’d simply been trying to be polite.
Decanters were brought from the sideboard, and another liveried servant was at hand to pour.
Tor’s attempt to decline didn’t go unobserved.
“Not drinking?” Forex said sharply. “My cellar is excellent.”
“I don’t doubt your cellar, Your Highness. Rather the opposite. My brother is under the impression that I drink too much.”
Forex stared at him for a moment and then made a scoffing sound. “And do you always listen to your brother?”
“When he’s the High King, it’s rather a requirement,” Tor acknowledged ruefully. “I would be happy to keep you company.”
Tor wasn’t absolutely certain that he’d made the right choice about obeying his brother and not drinking, but given the amount of alcohol that had been consumed at dinner, he knew that he had to either enter wholeheartedly into his brother’s asinine requirements or he was likely to be lost in a drunken haze the rest of the time he was here.
Though there seemed to be a strong chance that he was going to be bored out of his mind, he’d rather ensure that there was nothing for his brother to object to. Tor would beable to demonstrate how he’d adhered to the letter of each of the orders. So here he was, watching other people drink while he abstained.
Therewas a word that no one would normally associate with him. Maybe he was growing as a person.
“You must drink something,” the King declared. Doubtfully, he suggested, “Water? Tea? Milk?”
“Water would be fine. Thank you.”
A servant was sent to retrieve the water, apparently not a beverage that was normally on hand, and then they all sipped their drinks—or came closer to gulping them—and made very little effort to have any conversation.
