Page 45 of The Prince's Fealty

“I’m Torex,” he said, trying to sound approachable and friendly, and not like this was one of the weirdest things that had ever happened to him. “What’s your name?”

The young man gulped visibly, his warm brown skin growing paler even as Tor watched.

“Chay, sir. Your, uh, Highness,” he corrected himself nervously.

“Torex is fine,” Tor assured him with a smile. “Clasp your hands in front of your chest, and I’m going to set mine over yours, all right?”

Chay nodded a bit too fast but did as he was told, and Tor suited action to words, settling his own hands over Chay’s clasped ones.

Tor winked at him. “Just think about how you’ll be able to brag forever that you’re the very first person to have offered me Fealty. I mean, even if it all goes horribly wrong, you’ll have the best story ever.”

Pel kicked Tor in the shin, a glancing blow that clearly wasn’t meant to hurt. “This is serious.”

Tor schooled his expression to one of exaggerated seriousness, and the young man cracked a grin, looking stunned but pleased that Tor had a sense of humor.

More seriously, Tor continued, “You can’t just say the words, you need to mean them. You need to reach out to me with your magic, much the same as you would if you were Tendrilling. You’ll say, ‘I, Chay, pledge my Fealty to you, Torex of Alossa.’ And then reach out with your magic with the desire to pledge to me. I’ll reach out with my magic as I say, ‘I, Torex of Alossa, accept your Fealty and pledge you my protection.’ I’ll know once I’ve received your Fealty, and then I’ll let you go, and you can lower your hands at that point. How does that sound?”

Chay nodded hurriedly.

“We can go over it again if you get stuck at any point,” Tor said smoothly. “I’m really good at being bossy, as Pel will tell you, so there’s no problem with my needing to repeat orders.”

As Pel scoffed, the young man cracked another relieved grin, though his eyes were a little wild. Tor couldn’t blame him. He’d probably spent his whole life being told Fealty was bad and something to be feared, and now here he was about to pledge it—because they’d found something they fearedmore.

Tor really was going to have his work cut out for him, assuming he lived long enough to focus on the exiles. One thing at a time, he supposed. He had a lot on his plate—and if only his brother could see him now, because aside from the fact that he was committing treason, he hadn’t had this much purpose and direction in years.

The young man’s voice cracked, but he blurted out, “I, Chay, pledge my Fealty to you, Torex of Alossa.”

Without letting himself think too much about the fact that he’d never done this before and didn’t actually know for sure that he was doing it right, Tor concentrated instead on the fact that he needed this young man’s Fealty, that they were doing this, working together, to save the exiles and Tor’s family.

“I, Torex of Alossa, accept your Fealty and pledge you my protection,” Tor intoned.

He wanted everyone to be safe. If it was Fealty this land needed, then Tor wanted to pour the Fealty into it and give the exiles the stability they deserved. No one should be used like pawns in a power game. They deserved better than that.

Tor felt a surge of magic, different than Tendrilling, different than a healer’s power, and as it settled inside him, he knew that his life was never going to be the same again. Tor’s magic rushed through Chay, and Chay’s magic rushed through Tor, and when it had done, Tor knew that a tiny bit of Chay’s magic was left in him, and his magic told him, quite without Tor knowing how it knew, that Chay was Unremarkable.

Right. Because when people were Presented after they Manifested, they were assessed by their sovereign and given their name.

Tor hadn’t realized how instinctive it was—nor that he’d be able to do it when he wasn’t a ruler. Was it purely by virtue of that single pledge of Fealty? Was it something that anyone could do if someone pledged to them? Was it something only Extraordinary could do?

Tor had never thought about it before, had never thought that heneededto think about it before. Varex was going to be High King, and Tor was going to happily stay the High Prince, and none of this should have mattered to him.

He wondered, fleetingly, if it had been in a lesson that he hadn’t paid enough attention to. Their mother had tried to prepare them both, since Tor had been Varex’s heir until Cala was born. But no one had told him about the way that rulers could burn out their citizens, so Tor was pretty sure some knowledge had been deliberately kept from him.

Maybe, if he was lucky, he’d get to ask Varex about it one day. For now, he’d have to muddle through as best he could.

He wasnotabout to start naming the exiles. If they decided at some point that they’d like to announce their magical strength, then he’d be happy to go through with thetradition. But he wasn’t about to impose this system upon them when they’d lived for twenty-five years without it, not when Tor thought about how happy Pel would probably be if naming conventions didn’t exist.

If Tor made it back here, there’d be plenty of time for further discussion.

And if he didn’t, he wanted the exiles to be able to continue on as they had been with as few potentially destructive changes as possible.

They’d taken the first step towards a necessary change right now. There was a connection between Tor and Chay, and Tor had sworn to protect him. He could feel the buzz of that promise alight in his veins, and he couldn’t imagine how Forex or Nostex or any of the others had forsaken that.

This was a sacred duty.

It was a tiny surge of magic, a trickle left behind, but it represented so much. He wondered if it felt like this to Varex. Had it been completely different because he, like Bavil, had inherited all the Fealty in one fell swoop upon the death of a parent? Or was it still this feeling of each person and their tiny gift of magic?

He supposed it was unlikely he’d ever get to ask his brother, but he could hope.