it, so that I have a fighting chance if he freaks out on me. I guess I should get to that now?”
Rich looked at him and nodded, obviously feeling… proud? Of him? Why? Because he was willing to face his personal nightmare head on? No…
It was because he was letting go of the attempt on his life for the greater good. Heh, well, who wouldn't? No matter who you were, avoiding a war was worth more than your own safety, comfort, or even life. Even the Wards agreed with him on that score, how could he do less?
The feeling from Rolph was calm, and not at all surprised that Tor would do this. It was the kind of thing he expected from his friend. That made him smile a bit. Before he could ask for directions to where Smythe was staying Connie reluctantly raised her right hand a bit, then higher, trying to catch his attention, even though she really didn't want to say the words she had to, knowing it would hurt him more than a little. She projected this so loudly that Tor picked it up without half trying. So it was something she really thought of as important.
“There's been a change in plans regarding Varley's… and your engagement. It's nothing to do with you of course, but… well, we need to marry her to Count Peterson for political reasons… It's…”
He shrugged, which made her stop suddenly and stare.
“Because she's pregnant, it obviously isn't mine and you need a rather tall and dark skinned royal to fill in for the real father…” The pieces flowed together, the baby even felt like him, even though the idea nearly floored him. But an offer of a dalliance had been made, before the engagement, Varley had told him that the very first time they'd met to talk. At a public dinner no less, so it wasn't that secret or anything. She’d said that she'd refused, but royals lied. A lot. Like breathing for everyone else. Or maybe she'd just refused the last in a line of offers from the man? Ah… That could be it.
“Count Ward.” It wasn't a question, Tor knew it as much as he knew that the sun would rise in the morning or that, barring magic, things tended to fall down.
Well, freaking heck.
That got a reaction from the Prince, shock, surprise and rage. So he hadn't been in on it at least.
“What? He… he defiled my baby sister? I'll… I'll kill him!” He moved as if he was about to fly off to County Ward right then and there and do just that.
Tor put a hand out towards him and so did the Queen.
“She told you, did she?” The King said, not sounding overly amused, but not really angry. Not inside. He felt… worried.
The Queen’s eyes went huge, but she remained quiet and watched her son for signs of combat rage, which didn't happen. In a way, Rolph was within his brotherly rights by both Tor’s country logic and the rules of the nobles. Ward had no business doing anything with a Princess that could get her pregnant when he was already married. It was stupid and he should have known better. Even if he wanted to have her, he should have used precautions or not done it at all. How the man kept getting otherwise intelligent women pregnant Tor didn't know. If they were serving girls it would have been different. First Rolph's fiancee and then his little sister…
Oh.
Maria. How had she done it? Obviously by guiding her husband into things, that made sense. Tor explained the situation as gently as he could. It was… Insanely complex, but Maria had felt scorned by the Prince even though he hadn't done anything overly wrong by their rules, and humble apology to Tor or not, she'd never mentioned letting go of her personal campaign against Rolph. After all, he told them, in her mind the Prince was the evil Doretta and she was the noble Count Wylde, rising in power and coming to make him pay any way she could. She could never rise high enough to punish him directly though, could she? So she was using other means.
Gods it was convoluted.
The King saw it first. Somewhere inside he had more information than the rest of them did. Something Tor had said was incomplete, but it was close. Enough so that the man looked at the tiny builder in front of him with secret amazement. Tor nearly laughed when he realized that the man was wondering if Tor had a spy network in place.
Shaking his head he looked at the King directly and smiled. “No. I work with fields, with magic. Everything is made up of information, and I have to know how to read it, don't I? Any good builder can do it, but, well, I just started. Too much is happening and I'm too far out of my depth not to read people if I can.”
The Queen was puzzled and Rolph too angry to notice the words completely but Richard just let his eyes widen fractionally.
“I see.” Then the King’s mind went blank.
Tor bowed a little, and smiled. It was a good trick and one that he'd use himself if a similar situation ever came up. He looked at the Prince and bowed to him too, which got everyone’s attention.
“I'm not good at complex plotting and planning, but I think that you should send at least a letter to Maria and explain things, maybe apologize for hurting her feelings, even though it wasn't your intent? She got on her knees, in public, and begged my forgiveness for what she did, even nearly getting me killed. And I'm about to go and beg Smythe of Westend to let me heal him because the kingdom needs it, even if he'll probably kill me for leaving him crippled as soon as he can manage it. It seems like a good day for begging and groveling all around, doesn't it?”
Rolph raged inside for a full minute, for a second Tor thought he was really going to lose it and hit him, or try to at least, but he calmed and knelt instead after a while, bowing until his head touched the floor with a soft thunk.
“Then let me start here. I didn't know it at the time, but my actions set in motion very bad things for you. I should have realized it and made corrections, but I was too blind, too stupid to see it. I-”
“Oh get up. There's no debt's between friends and besides, if you could have taken any of what happened on yourself to spare me, I know you would have. Now let's get that apology out before Maria manages to get Karina and your mom pregnant too, shall we?”
Mirth flowed then, even though he hadn't meant it to be funny. Did they think that she couldn't do it? She was far more clever than Tor had thought and she'd been around him a lot over the last week, even though he'd kept his distance. After all, it wouldn't do to look like she was seducing him into finding in their favor. Especially since he was obviously already trying to do all he really could for them.
So, at that, the engagement to Varley was broken and he was, well, he wasn't alone was he? Tor still had friends and even a couple that were willing to sleep with him, for whatever reason. They didn't make him pay at least, which was a plus, if only for his ego. Petra had kind of put him off in regards to marriage, but seemed happy to be his girlfriend. That was good enough wasn't it? He was young and really, he wasn't going to get a lot older, one way or the other. Either someone would kill him or he just wouldn't age, like his uncle, grandfather and mom. What was his hurry? He wasn't alone now. It was an improvement for sure.
Looking a bit put out still, the Prince, his short hair still a dark brown, though a little red was showing and his skin still deeply colored too, but fading to his natural lighter tan color, stayed with his mother to craft the first apology. They all knew a single letter wouldn't be enough. Rolph jokingly wondered if sending his left testicle in a box would be enough, but the Queen, not laughing shook her head.
“Doubtful. Plus, that's the royal testicle, at least until you produce and heir and a spare. Groveling will have to do and I doubt you'll get off as easy as you did with Tor. Most people secretly like to see others humble themselves and will let it draw out. Might as well start now. The sooner you start the sooner you can get the taste of her boots off your tongue.” Her tone was dark, even though the words nearly made Tor laugh. Rolph did, if a little dryly, but then went to set up a writing station.
Richard led him to Smythe himself, who, attempted murderer or not wasn't locked in the dungeon, or even in an isolated hospital, just in his room. There was a Royal Guard on the door, who bowed to the King and eye-balled Tor, his hand going to his weapon in the little pocket on his side. It was just a force lance, the kind he'd designed when David Derring had been challenged to a duel to the death by a southern Count. It was a good and dependable model, better than most that the military had still. It also wouldn't do anything to Tor at all. Tor considered handing over his own weapon as a good faith gesture, then let that idea go. Not anymore. He wasn't going unarmed, especially into a room with Smythe in it.
The man sat in bed, a dun colored night shirt showing. He didn't do anything, no music played to entertain him and he didn't have a visitor to chat with or read to him. To his left was a pitcher with water in it and a cup, there was dampness on the table and the room smelled more than a little of urine. Either no one had been doing much for the man, or he hadn't let them.
