Page 1 of The Prince's Fealty

Chapter One

Tor

Waking up was a… weird experience. But why? Tor wracked his fuzzy brain, feeling like he was trying to push his way through a dense fog, and he finally concluded that he hadn’t expected to wake. Which… didn’t make sense. He normally woke up, didn’t he? Why would now be different?

He pondered that question, mulling it over in a mind that didn’t feel as sharp as it should be. What was different now? The surface beneath him was hard. It seemed to be padded with a few blankets, but there was no way it was a mattress. Not at the castle, then. A hazy recollection swam up from the depths of his mind of not being somewhere that was very comfortable, so it stood to reason it wouldn’t be great for sleep.

But why was he somewhere uncomfortable? Couldn’t he just… move?

He strained his mind, but the foggy lack of awareness obscured everything. Surely, it shouldn’t be this hard. Hehadto remember things! He’d been… in the dungeon… because he’d been sent there… by his brother?

With painful slowness, the events began to string together in Tor’s memory. He examined each of them. Yes, he’d been in the dungeon in Alossa… because Var had accused Tor of committing treason when he’d saved the exiles up the mountain in Tond. But Tor hadn’t just saved the exiles, he’d saved all the Tondian guards, too. He’d saved everyone, because he couldn’t let anyone else die in those mountains. He especially couldn’t let anything happen to Pel.

Pel!

Tor bolted upright with a groan of pain, becoming belatedly aware that his entire body ached, he was covered in blankets, and someone’s hand was tangled with his. So… not the dungeon?

A glance to his left showed him that the hand attached to his was Pel’s, which wasn’t a surprise, somehow, even if it didn’t make sense yet. Because Tor had made a mess of everything, had confessed his asinine plan to use Pel to get out of a marriage to Terila. Pel had walked away from Tor, and Tor couldn’t blame him for that… Except now, they were together… in a cave?

Tor’s brain was definitely not ready to process information. And then he stopped trying entirely, because Pel flung himself at Tor and… kissed him? Thankfully, even though Tor’s mind was still confused, his body knew what to do. Moving his arms was harder than it should have been, almost like they didn’t belong to him somehow, aching and ungainly, but he pushed through so he could wrap the smaller man up in an embrace.

Something deep inside settled, like a wrong he hadn’t even been aware of had been righted. It didn’t matter if it hurt, because Tor hadn’t been sure he was going to evenseePel again, and here Pel was, kissing him, his lips slanting demandingly across Tor’s.

Tor kissed him back with everything he had, pouring every emotion into the kiss in the hope that he could undo some of the damage he’d caused. That he could show Pel how important he was, howlovedhe was. Tor had caused Pel to doubt that, and he needed to rectify his mistake.

Although… if Pel thought Tor was a complete, irredeemable ass, he wouldn’t be kissing him, would he?

Just as Tor realized he was beginning to feel lightheaded, Pel ended the kiss. Tor let out an unhappy sound and opened his eyes to find that Pel was looking at him with a mixture of fondness and exasperation.

Tor didn’t ever,everwant to let the man go again, and if they kissed forever, he’d have no objections.

And then, finally, what Tor was feeling caught up with him.

“Did I pass out again?”

Up until recently, Tor had never experienced magical exhaustion. He was Extraordinary, possessed of the strongest magic, and although he and his brother had spent their teen years experimenting relentlessly, they’d rarely hit their limits.

But when Tor had tried to save everyone from the landslide up the mountain, he’d used so much magic his shields had gone pink, showing he’d dipped into his core magic. Having no other choice, he’d kept going, even as his shield got darker and darker. He’d known that once it went blood red, it meant his core magic was exhausted. That would have killed him—and everyone else on the mountain—when his shield collapsed.

Instead, he’d managed to borrow magic from his twin, despite the fact that Varex had been on the other side of the United Realms at the time. It shouldn’t have been possible, but Tor had managed it, although he’d collapsed into a magical coma afterwards. This felt a bit like waking from that, although Tor still couldn’t link everything together properly.

He’d recovered from the magical exhaustion as they’d journey south to Alossa. Tor had hoped to explain everything to his brother, and instead, Varex and his advisor had accused him of treason, resulting in Tor’s magic being bound, and him being thrown in the dungeon.

Pel’s expression was outraged, his brown eyes flashing.

“Pass out?” he repeated incredulously. “You don’t get to call it ‘passing out’ when you were unconscious more than two weeks, Tor. More. Than. Two. Weeks!”

Tor grimaced. Oh, yikes. That first time, he’d only been in a magical coma for a handful of days. Now it was more than two weeks? As if the recognition of how long it had been had brought a commensurate weakness, a wave of dizziness swept through him.

When he listed a little to the side, Pel was already there, supporting him, like that was a normal thing he did. He twined their hands together, and Tor leaned into him, reveling in the connection, even as his brain spun aimlessly.

More than two weeks? No doubt it was why his chest felt hollowed out and his memories and feelings were so jagged and disconnected, why he wasn’t able to make everything fit together. Two weeks had passed since he’d been thrown into the dungeons.

But he hadn’t stayed in the dungeons, had he? No, he’d—

Alarm shot through him, and he squeezed Pel’s hand too hard as he demanded urgently, “Cala. Pamuna. Are they all right?”

Pel made a face, and the bottom dropped out of Tor’s stomach.