Page 54 of The Prince's Sacrifice

He brought his free hand up and began to run it through Pel’s soft hair. The sensation was almost right. Tor felt fleetingly like he wasn’t using his own hand… which wasdefinitelyweird. What hand would he be using but his own?

But Pel had nice hair. Tor liked it a lot. He liked the soothing feeling of caressing it. It was a rhythmic motion, and that seemed like the sort of thing he could manage just now. He was warm and dry and in bed with his favorite person in the world. It couldn’t get much better than that.

(There was a looming weight in his mind, hovering just out of reach. But it wasn’t crushing him yet.)

The other man let out a sleepy noise of pleasure, rubbing against Tor, and Tor felt his lips stretch up into a smile. It hurt—it wasn’t supposed to hurt to smile, was it?—but it made him happy just the same.

Pel began to wake up more fully, a leg sliding across Tor’s in a very distracting way, and while Tor had a feeling he shouldn’t move too much, that didn’t mean they couldn’t manage this if—

A very amused-sounding, very female voice interrupted them. “You probably want to hold that thought.”

Tor opened his eyes, not having realized he’d kept them closed this entire time, while with a muttered curse, Pel leapedall the way out of the bed, taking a large section of the blankets with him.

Tor was… in his bedroom, so that was normal, but Larexa was sitting on the left-hand side of the bed, which was distinctlynot normal.

Pel was clutching the blankets to him as he stood on the other side of the bed, ears and cheeks red, an expression of horror on his face. His hair was mussed, and all Tor wanted to do was pull him back, but that was clearly not going to work just now.

Tor attempted to sit up and immediately groaned in pain.

Pel crawled back onto the bed instantly, moving to brace Tor.

“You shouldn’t be moving,” he scolded.

“I’m not going to have this conversation lying down,” Tor croaked out, coughing through the words.

His throat was parched, he realized belatedly.

Larexa evidently noticed, because she rose from her chair and went to get him some water. Tor’s hand shook too much to take the glass, but Pel wrapped his hand around it, too. For a moment, all Tor could think about was the soft pressure of Pel’s warm fingers tangled with Tor’s on the cup. He liked that a lot.

But why did he need help?HadTor been drinking? His head ached, but not the way he associated with overindulgence, and he felt sure that Pel would be more upset if Tor had broken his word. Of course, the last time he’d drunk too much, Pel had given him water, hadn’t he? Maybe the scolding came later.

Since the idea of pouring water all down himself made him shiver, he let Pel help him guide the cup to his lips.

It felt as though the water was being absorbed directly into the lining of his throat, and he finished the entire glass and then a second one. He remembered to thank Larexa after this one, once Pel had set it aside.

“Sorry. Not quite sure where my manners went,” he told her.

His voice sounded more like his own now.

Pel leaned against him suddenly, pressing his forehead against Tor’s shoulder. He was clutching at him, Tor realized, in a grip that was a little bit too tight, but Tor didn’t mind.

Pel whispered, “You’ve been unconscious for five days.”

Tor blinked, tried to process this, and failed.

“Five days?” he repeated blankly. After a moment, he added, “I think that explains why I’m so hungry.”

He hadn’t recognized the feeling at first, but what did he think that howling pit in his stomach was?

He caught a glance between Pel and Larexa, and then she rose out of her chair once again and headed for the door. She was back a moment later, sitting back down.

“It will be up in a minute.”

Tor was pretty sure that he wasn’t supposed to have a princess at his beck and call.

“Who was at the door?” he wanted to know.

Normally you had to go find a servant, didn’t you?