“Let’s go sit down, then you can tell me everything,” I suggest, leading the way into the sitting room at his eager nod. As I pass Vaeril, I brush my hand across his with a questioning look on my face, silently asking if he’s going to stay and hear Tor’s story. Nodding once, he follows behind me, although he doesn’t look happy about it.
When we reach the comfortable sitting room, I sit in my favourite armchair opposite the huge window that overlooks the best view in the palace. Tor takes up residence on the large couch, settling in the end closest to me as he looks around the room with a raised eyebrow.
“Very nice,” he murmurs quietly. I don’t think he meant for anyone to hear it as he runs his hands over the soft fabric of the couch. Vaeril enters the room, but instead of sitting, he just leans against one of the walls opposite Tor, crossing his arms over his chest.
Oh good, this is how it’s going to be. The thought is sarcastic as I frown at the elf, but I can tell from the stubborn set of his jaw that he’s not going to sit down no matter how nicely I ask him. Shifting in my chair, I turn to look at Tor.
“How are you here?” I inquire. The question has been practically burning a hole in my stomach since I saw him standing in my doorway.
“No hug? Didn’t you miss me?” His hand comes to his chest as he feigns hurt at my lack of a warm greeting. When I saw him standing there, I wanted to run into his arms and breathe in his masculine scent, to run my hands over his skin and remember the contours of his face, but that’s not something you do with someone you hardly know. Especially when you were just kissing someone else who is still in the room, watching the other man with narrowed eyes.
“Tor.” Thankfully I don’t need to say anything else. My voice conveys the fact that I’m only barely holding it together. A quick look of concern flashes over his face, but he simply nods and leans forward.
“After you got away, things escalated pretty quickly. We escaped and had to lie low for a while until we could return to our tribe.” His voice is serious now, and I know without having to ask that people lost their lives. He was helping children and their parents escape the castle and the cruel king, so I just hope that most, if not all, managed to get to safety.
I think back to that day Vaeril and I escaped. It feels like a lifetime ago, but it’s really only just been under two weeks since we left. My gut clenches as I think about the consequences of my desertion, and I pray to the Great Mother that the friends I left behind are safe. I don’t know where Jacob disappeared to, but the king wouldn’t hurt his own son, would he? Memories of the king slaughtering his wife make a wave of nausea roll through me. No one is safe from the tyranny of the king, not even his kin. Wilson would protect Jayne and Aileen to the best of his ability, but I can’t help but worry. And what about Grayson? What about when he returns to the castle to find me gone? What is he going to think? Everyone saw me escape with Vaeril, we weren’t exactly covert, so he’s going to find out I left with an elf. He’s going to think I betrayed him.
“The king has declared war on the tribes,” Tor continues, and I close my eyes tightly, dread flooding my body. This is my fault. “It was only a matter of time,” he reassures me quickly, noticing my guilt, “but it makes things more difficult. I knew I had to find you, and I would’ve come sooner, but there were some…complications.” Opening my eyes, I frown at the way he says ‘complications,’ but he avoids my gaze and continues with his story. “Anyway, I’m the new ambassador between the elves and the mountain tribes. I was supposed to go meet the queen, but as soon as I found out you were here, I had to find you.”
Oh, fantastic, another reason for the queen to hate me. I wince at the thought, knowing it’s true. Shaking my head, I look over Tor, taking in his exhausted form. If he hasn’t met the queen yet, he has a long day ahead of him. He should go see her now instead of wasting time with me. But I can’t ignore the little part of me that is glowing at the fact he came to see me first. I’ll have to add that oddity to the list of many things that happened today that I need to sort through. My mind is a mess.
“How did you find her?” Vaeril queries, his voice even, but there’s a note to it that implies his question is more of a demand, and not answering is not an option.
“I followed the—” He cuts off when he sees me shaking my head, my eyes flicking over to Vaeril. Thankfully, he understands what I’m saying. “I followed the trail of destruction. Plus, I knew you had her and figured this was the first place you would come,” he replies with a shrug, as if it’s not a big deal that he crossed kingdoms to find me. Vaeril watches him with an unreadable expression as Tor speaks, glancing over at me once before looking back at the tribesman.
“You came here for me?” I meant the words as a statement, but my insecurities made my voice tight, causing it to sound more like a question, one I really want to know the answer to.
“I came here for you,” he confirms, somehow knowing I needed to hear the words. Something hums within my chest, and I know it’s the link between us. “It helped that the chief wanted to create an alliance with the elves, so I volunteered for the role,” he continues, and I know this is aimed more at Vaeril than me. The elf shifts, and I know he’s going to start grilling the tribesman about his new role, pick it apart, but now is not the time for that. Instead, I frown at something he just said.
“Chief?” I echo, realising I know next to nothing about Tor or his life with the tribes. Until they were introduced at the castle by the king, I only had a vague knowledge that some people lived outside the reach of the kingdom, but that was all I knew.
Nodding, Tor leans back in the chair as he explains. “The high chief is the leader of my people. We live in small tribes and have our own leaders, but the high chief unites us.”
“And he sent you,” Vaeril questions sceptically, making it obvious that he doesn’t agree with the chief’s choice of ambassador.
“She sent me.” For some reason, Tor looks at me as he says this, and I get the impression there’s more he wants to say, but he holds his tongue.
She. Another female in a position of power. Arhavien’s believe they’re the most cultured and progressive race in the land with their riches and power, but I realise they’re stuck in the past. They still rely on slaves, and women are unable to rise to a position of power, only to be pawned off to the highest bidder. If only they could see what happens outside the strict views of the kingdom.
“Could I talk to you alone?” Tor shifts forward in his chair as he speaks, his eyes locked on me.
“Absolutely not,” Vaeril objects, finally leaving his post by the wall to sneer down at the tribesman.
“Vaeril,” I caution, frowning at his behaviour. Pushing up from my chair, I walk up to his side and gently place a hand on his arm. Instantly, he looks down at where my hand rests, his expression shocked, knowing I still struggle with casual touch. I’m not gripping him or pulling, merely resting my palm against his skin, but the contact seems to be more effective than if I had dragged him away. “I’ll be fine, I trust Tor,” I assure him, and he looks up from my hand to meet my gaze.
“But I don’t,” he replies clearly, his eyes narrowing as he ignores the tribesman who’s watching us with interest.