So instead of making a big deal about the fact that the other man was adorable, Tor tried a little bit of reciprocal information instead.
“My… old horse, Monster, is so named because he thinks that he’s the most fearsome horse who ever existed. Which somehow means eating a lot of treats. Melody, on the other hand, likes to dance.”
An eyebrow rose sharply. “Likes todance?”
Tor nodded. “The next time there’s music playing, I’ll show you.”
Pelun looked unconvinced but a bit intrigued. Tor would take it. He was learning—belatedly—that this man did not like to be led. He needed to find his own way and form his own opinion, which took patience. Come on too strong—well, come on too strong, and he’d probably get another punch in the jaw.
They mounted up, Pelun still looking at Melody like he was wondering exactly how a horse could dance. It wasn’t quite the same as wondering aboutTor, but it was Tor-adjacent. And not negative. He’d take it.
Pelun chose the direction, and Tor nudged Melody to fall in at his side without complaint. It had become abundantly clear to Tor that Pelun liked to be in control of his own life. Tor could think he was being helpful, but Pelun would see it as the High Prince taking over and being an ass.
Tor hoped they could get to a point where Pelun didn’t just see his title, but they definitely weren’t there yet. And hehadbeen an ass, assuming he could sweep in here and sweep Pelun off his feet instantly. It had been incredibly arrogant, even if much of Tor’s life up to this point had been the basis for his assumption.
His entire future was riding on this outcome… but at the same time, he found that he relished the challenge. No one had ever made him work so hard before, and it was sort of like he’d come up against a worthy opponent unexpectedly.
Not that he thought it was beneficial to think of Pelun as an opponent, except that he was pretty sure that Pelun consideredhimthat way.
But they were out riding together, doing something Pelun cared about, and that gave Tor hope.
They rode along in silence, and since small talk, flirting, and compliments had all gone badly for Tor, he didn’t try to break it. It wasn’t easy, at first. Tor was accustomed to breaking in with a joke or story or at least a charming smile. He was the one who kept morale up with the guard or staved off boredom with Rin—or wanted to test if their avatar could pull a carriage, once he and Var had Manifested in their teens. (The answer was, sadly, no. They could manifest a human-like figure, various shield-like shapes, other small shapes for light or ropes… but they couldn’t make a horse-shaped being and ride pure magic or have it pull their carriage. They’d both been incredibly disappointed. Tor still wasn’t sure why it wasn’t possible, but that was magic for you.)
They made it to the first farm without having spoken a single word, but while there was a bit of tension, it hadn’t been overwhelming—and since there’d been tension inevery encounter they’d had so far, it might have been stranger if they’d been completely comfortable with one another.
Besides, they were going to have to talk—if not to one another, then at least to the people they were visiting. At least Tor would be present for that.
A weathered, wiry woman with graying hair, tan skin, and pale blue eyes greeted them and sent someone off to call in those in the fields even after Tor assured her he didn’t want to interrupt their work.
“It’s no problem at all, Your Highness.” She gave an awkward bow and then glanced between Pelun and Tor. “Your High Highness. No problem at all.”
Tor bit back a laugh, not wanting to seem as though he was mocking the woman. Varex would have lovedYour High Highness—once upon a time, anyway. A dull ache panged in his heart, and he tried not to think about how much he missed his brother, the one he couldn’t find even when they were in the same room these days.
“Prince Torex or Your Highness is fine.” He winked at her. “My brother scolds me if I ask people to just call me Torex.”
That sort of familiarity had never bothered Tor, but he’d realized early on that it could badly fluster people.
“Prince Torex,” she agreed, bobbing another bow. “We’ve got ale or fella-root, and I made bread this morning.”
Tor had learned long ago that declining the hospitality of his people was not an option, even if they could ill afford it. Trying to pay them didn’t work well, either. But Tor had gotten sneakier, and if the children each ended up with a copper, or several were found after he left, well… that was pure chance.
“Fella-root would be lovely, thank you.”
Even if Varex would agree that a few sips of ale while visiting people didn’t count—and there was no saying he would—Tor would be sloshed by the time they finished all the visits and got back to the castle. He and his spoiled palate preferred tea, but as that was imported from the mainland at vast expense, it was available in well-to-do households only. Fella-root grew across the entirety of the United Realms. Skinned, sliced, and steeped in water, it offered a perfectly acceptable hot beverage that was a bit spicy and a bit bitter. It could be sweetened with honey.
He’d drunk a lot of it with guards over the years.
In came the farmers with lots of bows that Tor swept aside and then, seeing the tightening of Pelun’s jaw, he realized that he’d started to take charge again. These were Pelun’s people, and Tor needed to learn to share, didn’t he?
So he sat back, and although Pelun eyed him—suspiciously—he easily took over, introducing Tor and explaining that he was visiting with the royal family and wanted to take the opportunity to visit more of the citizens of Tond.
They all seemed a little bit awed by this magnificence, and he could see from Pelun’s expression—though it was mostly schooled—that if they’d been alone, he would have had a few choice things to say about that.
Tor flashed his best grin at them.
“It’s not very often that I get this far north, and I figured I should see if everything works the same way up here as it does down south.” Pelun stiffened, but Tor ignored him. “Tell me, does the sun still rise in the east?”
There was a moment of blankness, like the notion that he could have made a joke was completely foreign to them, and then everyone dissolved into laughter—even the children too small to have understood the joke.
