Fernila’s eyes met his, the dislike equally evident in her expression. “Six attendants in the last two months! Six!”
It was with an effort that Tor didn’t laugh. It was eight, actually, but two of them had been discreet. Tor had intended to outrage Fernila by seducingallof them, but he didn’t actually kiss and tell. If they wanted to keep the matter private, he wouldn’t say anything.
With would-be innocence, Tor asked, “Can I help it if they’re appealing folks who find me equally appealing?”
Varex shot him a look that said he didn’t buy Tor’s manner for an instant—which was understandable, Tor supposed, since it was the same one that they’d used as childrenwhen they’d filched pies from the kitchen or insisted it was absolutely not them who’d tracked mud through the entranceway.
“You’re thirty-five,” Varex repeated sternly. “And it’s time you settled down.”
“Says who?” Tor demanded. “Not everyone is the same, you know. Just because you apparently found domestic contentment doesn’t mean that everyone else will.”
“It is the common condition.”
“You say that as if there were no unmarried people in the United Realms.”
“In our position, it is rare, and you know it.” Varex was starting to sound impatient now.
The marriage contract between Varex and Fernila had been in place since practically the moment she was born, one more peace negotiation to unite the fractured realms and stop the fighting for good.
Tor had always been relieved that he’d been the younger son and the Queen hadn’t fixed his future when he was only ten years old.
“I don’t want to marry a child.”
“Terila isn’t a child; she’s twenty-two.”
“And I’m thirty-five, as you keep reminding me,” Tor pointed out sourly. “I have no interest in marrying someone who is that much younger than I am.”
“I married someone who was ten years younger.”
“I know.” Tor’s voice was as dry as dust.
If hewerelooking to marry, a partner as different as possible from Fernila in every conceivable way would definitely be on his list.
Varex continued, “Terila is a wise choice for the United Realms.”
“Not if we make one another miserable,” Tor protested.
Miserable royals not only made themselves miserable, but they ran the risk of causing strife in their realm and beyond.
Varex sounded definitive and supremely self-assured. “Choose not to do so.”
Tor blew out a breath. “Varex, that’s not how life works.”
“Of course it is. One has only to make an effort.”
Sometimes, Tor wanted to hit his brother’s head repeatedly against a wall and see if that made an impression.
“First of all, you wouldbothhave to make an effort for—”
Fernila made a shrill, wounded noise, and Varex’s face darkened like a thundercloud.
“That’s it!”
For once, Tor hadn’t been trying to insult Fernila. He had no idea what she contributed to this marriage beyond a lot of red hair and spite, but he knew Varex didn’t feel that way.
“No,” Tor protested, “I meant Ada and—”
Varex cut him off. “Torex, your behavior is atrocious!”
