“You’re not listening!” Tor nearly shouted.
Varexneverlistened when Tor tried to talk to him about Ada, tried to make him see the truth. Varex had treated her like a political advantage rather than like his sister, and Tor wasn’t sure he could ever forgive him for it.
How could Varex think that politics were more important than anything else? He hadn’t been like that before. Tor blamed Fernila. His brother had only gotten worse since he’d married.
Sure enough, Varex was still not listening. His face was stern and angry, and he threw the words out like he was orating to an entire room of citizens, not speaking to the brother who was standing right in front of him. His voice was hard and implacable.
“You are incapable of keeping a civil tongue in your head or of maintaining a meaningful position here. So I will tell you what to do. You will stop drinking. You will stop seducing the queen’s attendants. You will stop having orgies. You will visit Vayrin. You will seriously examine your marriage prospects. You will make a real effort at courting. These are orders from your King. Understood?”
Jaw clenched, biting back words that would only make this worse, Tor bowed stiffly. “As your Majesty commands.”
He stalked out of the room, seething with anger and indignation. His hands were clenched into fists, and he had to make a conscious effort to relax them. He was itching for a fight, but since it was the people he’d just left who deserved it, he turned towards the inner levels of the castle without punching anyone.
He wouldn’t wake Rin, because he wanted the man to be in a good mood when Tor tried to convince him to come on this fool’s errand.
It was true that Varex hadn’t ordered anyoneelsenot to have alcohol or orgies, and while part of Tor was tempted to see what would happen if he were to just go andwatchother people, he didn’t want to risk anything happening to Rin if Varex refused to acknowledge the absurdity of his orders.
But those ordershadbeen issued, and Tor was inclined to take them as a challenge. He wasn’t about to concede defeat or let the man think that Tor was failing.
No part of it was going to be pleasant, but surely Varex couldn’t expect his orders to hold forever. He was probably expecting Tor to come crawling back asking for forgiveness.
Tor wasn’t crawlinganywhere.
He did recognize that starting a brawl would be foolish, however, and that was what led him to his current destination.
It was impossible to remain angry in the face of a being who fit in his arms and had the most ridiculous wispy golden-red hair that Tor had ever seen in his life.
Tor, Varex, Ada, and their parents all had dark hair, so the red was clearly from Fernila.
“If you wanted to take nothing but your hair from your mother, that would be much appreciated, baby girl,” Tor cooed at her as he walked her around the room.
Pamuna, her nurse, watched them as she darned on the other side of the room. She was probably about the same age as the Queen, and she also came from Filon. Unlike Fernila, she was dark-haired and unobtrusive. Fernila had been the one to choose her for the position, and Tor had had serious doubts about putting an Unremarkable in charge of the heir of the United Realms. Why not choose someone with enough magic to defend his defenseless niece properly?
When he’d raised his concerns, his brother had pointed out that he had an entire complement of guards whose job it was to defend the princess. What she needed from a nurse was… nursing.
Varex had also accused Tor of being prejudiced against anyone that Fernila suggested, which… Well, the thing was, she was justsoannoying as a person that Tor couldn’t imagine her making wise choices about anything. She was young, she’d never been a mother before, and it had taken nearly five years before they’d had a child. All of those things counted against her as far as Tor was concerned, and he couldn’t imagine how Varex wasn’t horribly disappointed with the results of the marriage contract between Alossa and Filon.
Except he alwaysseemedhappy. To an embarrassing degree, really. And to be scrupulously fair to Fernila, in this instance, at least, she’d chosen wisely. Pamuna might not have more than the most basic magic, but she didn’t need it to take care of Cala. She was tireless in her dedication, patient even if Cala was screaming, and she made the baby at least as happy as her parents did. She was always able to coax a smile out of the little girl, even when she was in the worst mood. She also maintained a hawk-eyed vigilance, and Tor had to respect her for that.
Plus, she was polite enough to take up mending or crafting or something when he was present so that it didn’t look quite so much as though she were watching his every move like he were going to drop the baby.
He’d been doing this for nearly six months, now, and he had this part figured out.
It was possible that Cala just confused him with her father, but he liked to think that the little girl could tell when he was the one visiting. She almost always offered him a gummy smile, and her gaze had grown more intent as the weeks passed.
“You’ll be good while I’m gone, won’t you, sweetheart?”
Cala grinned and blew a spit bubble at him.
“That’s the spirit,” Tor said with his own grin. “You’re a woman after my own heart, you know. Don’t be too serious. You’ll end up like Yomil or Fernila. Honestly, I’m not even sure that you should take after your father. How about you take after your uncle? Don’t forget how to enjoy yourself, all right?”
He tickled her under her chin, and she grabbed onto his fingers and tried to shove them all in her mouth.
“Sweetheart,” he protested, laughing, “that isn’t going to work. How about I eatyourfingers?”
He proceeded to pretend to do so to much babbling glee from the baby in his arms—as well as much amusement from Pamuna, who was probably smirking because both he and the baby ended up covered in spit.
He caught her eye, and she flushed but didn’t lower her gaze.
