Page 46 of The Prince's Fealty

Carefully, Tor released Chay’s hands. Chay blinked at him, they stared at one another for a moment, and then Chay let his hands fall.

Tor smiled at him. “And that’s all there is to it.”

For a moment, the young man looked so relieved that he swayed a little, but he caught his balance again and offered a wobbly smile at Tor.

“That, uh, that wasn’t so bad.”

Had the exiles told stories about how terrifying it was for a ruler to take their Fealty? Had he worried that it would hurt or weaken him? Tor hadn’t considered that before now.

“Would you be willing to talk to those who are next in line, make sure they know what to expect? That would be very helpful.”

Chay swelled with visible pride at the notion of being given this responsibility. He nodded. “Yes, sir. Your Highness. I mean Torex. I’d be happy to.”

“Thank you.”

Should he just be Tor with these people? Given how they’d been raised, that would probably make the most sense. But for Tor, raised in the United Realms, it still felt odd to think of so many strangers calling him so familiarly.

Just Torex was going to have to be an adequate compromise for now.

Tor asked Pel and Tama to manage the people who’d finished giving their Fealty, while Istila and Bavil wandered amidst those farther back in line, and Chay coached those at the head of the line. It wasn’t that complicated, of course, but Tor didn’t want anyone feeling anxious if he could help it.

He felt a little bad about splitting Pel up from his mother, but he’d been certain that putting Bavil and Tama together wouldn’t be helpful right now. This was already a high-stress situation, and the last thing any of these people needed to witness was one of the exiles fighting with a prince of Tond.

The next person came, and after their Fealty had been added to Tor’s magic, he directed her to Pel and Tama. And then there was the next person and the next and the next.

It looked at one point like Pel and Tama were getting more of those who had already pledged their Fealty to talk to those who hadn’t yet. There were a lot of people to get through, so that made sense.

Tor had his first family come to pledge, and when he accepted the Fealty of the parents, tiny zips of connection forged with the children at the same time. He’d known that was how it worked—those who hadn’t Manifested yet fell under the Fealty of their parents—but he’d neverfeltit before.

What happened, he wondered, if the parents didn’t pledge their Fealty to the same person? Why had Tor never wondered about this before? Ada hadn’t renounced her Fealty to Varex because everyone’s Fealty passed from the other rulers to Varex anyway. But normally, a royal who married into another royal family renounced their old Fealty and pledged to the new royal. That was what Fernila had done when she’d become Varex’s wife, no longer pledging to her father but directly to Varex instead.

It was part of why Alossa was so large. Many citizens had wanted to come to Alossa and pledge directly to the High Queen following the war.

Would Pel be willing to pledge directly to Varex if that option was open to them? Or would he want to remain pledged to his brother? If Tor remained pledged to Varex, then who would their child be pledged to?

Tor should definitely have paid more attention in lessons, never mind that they’d been nearly two decades ago. There might be families here where not all members were willing to pledge their Fealty to him. Tor would accept that, and he supposed he’d see if he felt the connection to the children or not.

There were all sorts of people in the crowd, those who were old and jaded, those who looked so very weary but also hopeful, the young and angry ones, and the ones who clearly hadn’t lived through the horrors of the war personally—and regarded the horror of the land that was killing them as the worse evil right now.

Some of them regarded Tor mistrustfully, but they were still here and pledging. Some looked at him like he was their savior, which made him squirm with discomfort. He’d try to live up to their hope, but it was a tall order.

He really hoped that he’d be able to come back and actually spend time with these people. Right now, all he could try to do was accept pledges of Fealty as quickly as possible, because the sooner he accepted all their pledges, the sooner he could try to rescue his family.

Was this what his mother had felt after the war, when new people had flocked to Alossa? It was a tiny trickle that swelled piece by piece, one after the other until it felt like something more substantial, his and not his, deep in his core.

It wasn’t the same as bonding with Pel, magic that had entwined so deeply that Tor hadn’t even realized it had happened. But it wasn’t as foreign as healing magic, either. It felt like it belonged, even as it slowly grew with each additional person, like it was suffusing every part of him and filling him with energy.

He’d never stopped to think about what the capacity of a single person was for magic. He’d known since he was fourteen that he held the most you could—apart from a ruler with Fealty. But he hadn’t thought about what that would mean practically, the space that it would take up inside him. But it was like a heretofore unknown capacity was being revealed inside him where all this magic could fit, like he was expanding deep inside where no one could see.

Tor pledged and pledged and pledged. Pel showed up at his side at one point with water and some bread and cheese that he insisted Tor eat.

He wasn’t hungry—he felt like he was so full he’d never need to eat again—but Pel cast him a withering look.

“Does every ruler everywhere still eat? Shut up and eat your food.”

Tor duly shut up and ate, making Pel roll his eyes at his obedience.

And then he pledged some more. He didn’t really notice it getting dark until torches and fires sprang up. What had happened to the rest of the day? But the exiles were still lined up, and Tor wasn’t about to stop accepting their Fealty.