But wait. Did the inability to sense them mean theywereat a distance? Wycke could only hope.
Yet, he’d sensed Piers’ distress from another realm. Maybe the connection required strong emotion.
What became of the gargoyle who’d tried to help him? The pair of winged champions had come from the sea, not the mountains they so dearly loved.Please let the gargoyle be okay,he beseeched listening deities.
He stared at a bruise on his forearm, imagining unblemished skin. At least the guards removed the golden chains before tossing him into his cell. Slowly, purple faded, turning the yellow and green of a week-old injury, then fading entirely. He probed the spot with one finger. No pain.
He lifted his shirt, repeating the process with his ribs, then his head, and on and on. In the end, he’d healed himself, actually healed himself, and removed most of the bloodstains.
Then collapsed onto the floor in an exhausted heap, using his discarded leather jacket as a pillow.
So, magic wasn’t endless, and he’d used far more than he’d realized until the end. Or maybe magic held out as long as necessary, then needed replenishment. If only he’d been able to disclose his talents earlier and receive proper training.
But then, some unscrupulous sorcerer might have drained him. He gave a humorless laugh. Didn’t matter now. He’d soon be dead anyway.
All because his brother—or what appeared to be his brother—wanted him dead. Wanted his magic.
What would they do with him? He’d been taken from the room as a child and didn’t witness Lady Nyanda’s fate, but he’d heard the screams, felt ripples in what might have been the magic he’d been told lived under the castle. Being stripped of magic must hurt, like having one’s heart pulled out.
Nothing mattered as long as Saris and Piers escaped. What would have happened if Wycke had left Piers alone, not felt the need to seduce him and awaken dormant powers? Would Piers still be bartending, living with Jess? And what about the cat they’d mentioned? Kitty? Who took care of the poor creature in their absence?
Then Wycke recalled better moments: dancing with Piers on a sidewalk, walking hand-in-hand, sharing a bottle of wine. Chatting openly without having to measure every word. Honestly and truly enjoying the company of another.
Then, Piers in the hotel room, their mouths crushed together as magic swirled around them, bonding them together. Wycke gave a shiver despite the heat of the cell.
While Piers slept, Wycke had wrapped around him, holding him close. If he only cuddled in secret, he could still keep his reputation intact, right?
But suddenly, he didn’t feel the need for that reputation. Always before, Prince Wicked held the power, outranking his lovers. Piers was, without doubt, the one with the power now. Still, he didn’t even recognize his superiority, let alone hold it over Wycke’s head. At least, not yet. With Piers, Wycke could be himself. May the man never change.
Wycke lapsed into a doze, jolting awake when iron clanged against iron. Someone approached. His heart leaped, then plummeted when he recognized voices: his sister’s and possibly Jess’s.
“I say he betrayed us!” Saris spat, as angry as he’d ever heard her.
“And I say he didn’t. Weren’t you the one who said his kind didn’t want power? Then why lead us straight to your brother?Yourbrother, I might add. A card-carrying asshole.”
“I am not responsible for what Radre does,” Saris barked before adding, “and yes, he is an asshole.”
“Good. We finally agree on something.” Jess harrumphed.
A guard passed Wycke’s cell, rolling his eyes. Not a new argument, then. Old enough to fray the guard’s nerves.
But Jess. Saris. Here. They’d been caught. How about Piers? Who betrayed them? Whose kind? Wycke struggled to his feet, gripping the metal bars of his cell to stay upright. “Saris? Jess? Piers?”
Saris came into view first, rushed across the floor, and gripped Wycke’s hands over the bars. “Wycke! Thank the ancestors, you’re okay.” She brought her fingers over his face. “We saw the gargoyle fall. Thought you’d been crushed.”
“She protected me, but I didn’t get a chance to ask about her.” The gargoyle had definitely been female, with her breasts pressed against Wycke as they’d flown. “I don’t see Piers! Where is Piers? And what happened to you?”
Saris looked a little worse for the wear, a black smudge marring one cheek and hair slipping free from her uneven braid.
She stared down at her hands, now holding Wycke’s. “Radre sent most of his guards to bring Jess and me back here. I’m so sorry. He took Piers with him.”
Wycke dropped his voice to a whisper. “Who betrayed you?”
“The elf,” she spat. “Led us straight to Radre.”
“He did not!” Jess snapped, joining them by the bars. “He was just as surprised as we were.”
Saris glared. “What do they call those acting awards in your realm? School awards?”