CHAPTER NINE
The palace was lit up, glittering against the evening sky, the sound of music floating out the open double doors into massive foyer, people in formal dress milling around the front and visible through the open doorway.
It was a party. No doubt to celebrate his return.
A surprise for him that Tor would have much preferred not to be surprised with. Blythe had realized that of course and texted Tor of his family's plans as soon as she'd learned of them.
He'd been able to mentally prepare and was grateful.
He found it much harder now to don the air of civility and charm he used to wear like armor in his role as the youngest Prince of the House of Asgersen.
Tor's family were standing together in the Great Hall when he entered, their faces wreathed in welcoming smiles.
Drawing on years of training, Tor returned a smile of his own. If it did not quite reach his eyes, he wasn't worried about it.
This moment was about appearances, not reality.
Reality would have been asking him what he wanted and respecting his need for quiet so soon after another operation that had seen him lose a fellow soldier and friend. Again. Reality would not be a ballroom full of dignitaries, high profile business associates and their country's elite welcoming him home when all he wanted was a private evening with his family.
Reality would absolutely not be the very obvious attempts at matchmaking several party guests were.
Blythe seemed to be the one person who understood what Tor needed. Breaking with past behavior, she stayed close by and ran interference for him with overly enthusiastic partygoers.
He understood that his people were celebrating his safe return to Tapt Oyer. However, some, especially single women of a certain age, wanted to personally welcome him home.
He was a prince, but that didn't stop a few forward souls from trying to grasp his hand, or even hug him.
What had the world come to?
He had never hugged his father without an invitation, would still never even consider doing so.
Not that Tor voluntarily hugged anyone anymore. It was a behavior he'd left behind in his teens.
The exceptions being his nephew and infant niece.
And Blythe. He hated not being able to just reach out and touch her when that was all he wanted to do.
Blythe practically vibrated with the need to be alone with Tor, but they had this interminable celebration to get through before that could happen.
Blythe was glad she'd had the chance to warn Tor what his family planned. She gave an internal shudder at the thought of how he would have felt being blindsided by such a loud and pressing homecoming.
It shocked Blythe, but his royal family didn't seem able to grasp that he'd seen real combat. He'd lost friends and seen others seriously injured. He'd participated in dangerous ops that could very well have ended his life. Tor had never told her exactly what his special unit's ops were about, but he'd let slip once that retrieval of at risk targets was part of it.
He wasn't coming home from a two-year long jaunt around the world. Only that was how the rest of the royal family acted.
Blythe knew that Holger and Geir had had very different experiences in their two years of military service, acting more as liaisons and diplomats than active soldiers, but still.
They all knew that wasn't the type of service Tor had signed up for. Or gone into.
He hadn't come home the same man who loved parties and crushes of people.
Didn't anyone else see how much Tor had changed?
He'd grown more taciturn, less apt to crack a joke. In fact, he rarely smiled in any genuine way unless they were alone together.
Or with his beloved nephew and niece.
Blythe knew she should not be gravitating toward Tor, but she could not help herself. Her prince needed someone to play buffer between him and the people she knew he would much rather not have to greet on his first night home.