Page 13 of The Prince's Fealty

Tordidknow it, but he wasn’t sure that mattered. It helped to think that maybe part of the problem had been that someone had deliberately set Varex against him. But his heart continued to ache at the thought that things had gone so wrong that no matter what the supposed evidence, Varex had believed Tor might have committed treason. And Tor had frittered away years when he could have been trying to fix their issues.

Instead, he’d played right into the conspirators’ hands. He’d been mouthy and aggressive—and run away for months, letting them say whatever they wanted about what he was doing and why he was doing it.

Maybe it had been inevitable. Maybe they would always have found something for him to be guilty of, but there was still an ember of hot resentment in Tor’s gut that he’d made it easy for them.

On the other hand, if events hadn’t unfolded the way they had, maybe he wouldn’t have been in the right place at the right time to protect Cala. If they were right about the end game, then she was always going to be a target.

So he was glad about that, if nothing else.

A giant yawn took him by surprise, making his jaw crack.

“Why don’t you rest?” Pel suggested.

“But I just woke up,” Tor protested.

He could already feel his eyelids getting heavier, though, like his body had just been awake so that he could eat, and now it was shutting down again.

He yawned a second time.

“At least rest for a few minutes,” Pel cajoled.

Tor hadn’t even paid attention to what time it was, and while he wanted to ask, he found himself lying down instead, his body getting heavier and heavier by the moment.

Pel leaned over him and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

Tor opened his mouth to argue that surely he could do better than that, but he couldn’t get the words out before sleep claimed him.

The next time Tor woke, he at least wasn’t the only one who’d been sleeping. It seemed to be morning. Bavil was still in his bed roll. Beluna was messy-haired and yawning as she balanced a pot at the edge of the fire. Smears of gray ash marked her dark fingers, and it looked like she was only half awake as she tried to make what he guessed was either fella-root or porridge. He sniffed. Fella-root.

Cavun was standing at the cave entrance, his broad shoulders making the cave feel even smaller. It looked like he’d been on guard last night.

Pel had been sleeping curled up with Tor, and his gaze was anxious as he met Tor’s. He relaxed visibly when he saw that Tor was awake.

“How are you feeling?” Pel asked.

Tor considered this. “Not so bad.”

Pel’s look was skeptical.

“No, truly,” Tor assured him.

Admittedly, his scale was probably still a bit skewed, but he felt more like himself today. There wasn’t the same fog of confusion, and he remembered everything they’d discussed yesterday. Tama’s magic was still inside him, but either there was less of it, or some of Tor’s own magic had replenished itself. His insides were starting to feel more like his, anyway.

He also felt antsy and like he would crawl out of his skin if he didn’t do more than hunch in his blankets today, though.

Plus, he had to pee.

Tor blew out a breath. “Can you help me up?”

Pel looked at him with blatant skepticism. “Don’t you remember what happened last night?”

“I feel better than I did last night.”

This was true, if not the entire story. Tor offered a hopeful smile. “I need to stretch and get my body used to moving again. It helped last time to move around a bit.”

Tor had to figure this out, because he had to go help his family.

Pel finally conceded, “Let Beluna take a look at your injuries first.”