Torex sipped at it, then sighed. “I don’t miss the headache. But sometimes, I miss the fuzziness. It doesn’t hurt as much when it’s fuzzy.”
It didn’t deal with any of the underlying issues, but Pel supposed that in the moment, if it made you feel better, it might seem worth it. And if you could be drunk a lot of the time, perhaps you hoped those consequences would never come.
“It’s nice when things don’t hurt.” Pel winced at how inane that sounded. Gently, he added, “But my father has been drinking for about fifteen years, and it doesn’t seem to have fixed anything.”
Torex took another drink of the water, grimacing a little. “But if you can’t fix it, you’re kind of stuck, aren’t you?”
“There are plenty of situations we don’t have control over,” Pel conceded. “And very rarely can you change what other people think or do. But you can change how you react. You can try to make amends if you’ve done something wrong. And you can always do better going forward.”
Swallowing visibly, Torex said roughly, “I told all their families in person. Went one by one. Apologized. And made sure to send them money, so they’d all be supported. But nothing makes up for their loved ones being gone.”
“No, unfortunately, that’s not something anyone can change. But you’ve done what you can to bring them comfort and support. That matters,” Pel told him earnestly.
Torex sighed. “It doesn’t feel like enough.”
It probably never would. But Torex had still done it. And then he’d floundered, not feeling like he had a purpose, until he’d finally escaped his brother and judgment and expectation by running away here.
“Look,” Pel said, “this may not be a good time, but can I say something?”
“Again?” Torex’s teasing tone was almost right. “Yes, of course.”
Pel swallowed, not sure he was doing the right thing, but he finally blurted out, “Did you find the bodies?”
Torex recoiled, flinching visibly. He rasped out, “What do you mean?”
Flapping his hands, wincing at his complete lack of tact, Pel said, “Sorry, sorry, I just—listen. Did you recover their bodies?”
Torex shook his head. “No. We couldn’t bring them back for their families.”
Pel nodded. “So bear with me. The mountain acts as a kind of barrier between the United Realms and the exiles, right?”
“Right,” Torex agreed, frowning.
“Forex and Nostex retained all the mining rights, but we’re meant to leave the exiles unsupervised, unprotected, and under their own rule on their side of the mountain. We’re not meant to spy on them or raid them or any of that.”
“Which is why you’ve never seen what their land is like.” Torex’s voice was tight. “Because you listened to all the rules.”
Ugh, why did he keep hearing insults?
“No,listen,” Pel insisted. “You were in the foothills in Filon?”
Torex nodded, face shadowed. “Yes, the raiding party came down the mountain.”
“And you sent guards up into the mountains after the survivors. And none of them came back.”
Not looking at him, Torex said, “Yes.”
“So, the thing is,” Pel pointed out, “you don’t know where they died. Or how they died. Perhaps they ran into exiles on our side of the mountain. You don’t know if they actually crossed into exile territory before they were killed.”
Prince Torex goggled at him. “But—”
“Maybe the routed exiles started back. Maybe the guards stopped them from attacking again. Maybe there was a landslide. You know the mountains have those. Or they fell in the dark.”
Torex shot him a look. “All twelve of them?”
Pel tried to press his point. “I just meanyou don’t know. No one knows, because they all died.”
Voice thick, Torex said, “Regardless, they died because of me.”
