“The things Uncle Lee told me about are real. I thought they were stories.” So many years ago, his uncle told Piers all about the place but never mentioned Terra New, or rather, Tirra Neu was real. How longingly he’d spoken of his old home. His life as a soldier. The barracks and the men he’d served with. He’d left his entire life behind.
For Piers. An invisible fist squeezed Piers’ heart.
“They’re as real as you or I.” Then, as though sensing his isolation, Wycke slogged the few feet to Piers, dropping an arm around his shoulders. “Everything will be all right. I promise you. No matter what we have to do.”
Suddenly the world seemed less lonely, less cold.
They resumed walking, Piers’ bare feet squelching in damp gray sand. Wycke didn’t remove his arm. If he had, Piers might beg him to return it to his shoulder.
The bond didn’t create the seeds that will one day become love.
Magic had said one day Piers and Wycke would love each other. Once the world stopped tipping off its axis, maybe. Piers would enjoy the friendship until then, getting to know his accidental mate.
Or rather, the mate magic picked for him.
An iridescent green tail surfaced in the distance and sank beneath the waves. What the…
“Merfolk,” Wycke said, pulling Piers closer. “They normally don’t swim so near to shore. I think they’re drawn to your magic.”
Magic. All conversations came back around to Piers’ birthright. “I didn’t want any of this,” he said, voice barely audible over the crashing waves.
“Any of what?”
“This!” Piers waved a hand to indicate their surroundings.
“Did any of us? You weren’t raised here, but this is your home.” Wycke delivered a gentle shake. “But for bad luck, we might have played together as kids.”
Kids. Piers tried to imagine his lonely young self with a friend. He’d have loved a friend, someone to talk to other than Uncle Lee. Someone who’d tell him where he came from. “I’d have liked that,” he admitted.
“Me too.” Wycke poured a whole lot of sadness into his words. “I lived a lonely childhood.” He faced Piers and grinned his goofy, lopsided smile. “Oh, the terror we’d have caused. You’d have helped me live up to my nickname for sure.”
Piers easily pictured a young him and a young Wicked getting into trouble and threw Jess into the mix, too, because, well, he couldn’t leave her out.
Wycke took Piers into his arms and swayed slowly back and forth. Piers recalled the tune they’d danced to in Wycke’s hotel room and hummed along to the strange melody.
A dance. It all started with a dance. Body-to-body, hands clasped behind each other's necks, they stepped lightly, neither leading nor following, their bond holding them in sync. Or maybe more than their bond kept them in perfect harmony.
Before Piers’ mind caught up, he parted his lips, allowing Wycke’s tongue refuge in his mouth. For all the frantic moments of their one night together, this time the kiss remained slow, gentle.
Comforting. Desire coursed through him. He’d love to lie on the sand with Wycke and get reacquainted in the most intimate ways. Being under constant guard, plus Aberfrer’s habit of entering the room unexpectedly, made anything beyond a few kisses impossible. Door locks didn’t keep determined sorcerers out. Just wait until Piers mastered his skills.
One of their guards cleared her throat, bringing reality crashing back down.
Wycke didn’t break the kiss. Instead, he rocked back and forth, slow dancing to the rolling tempo of the waves. The kiss deepened, Piers seeking solace in the connection, the one person standing between him and falling apart.
The man who’d risked so much to storm a tower and save Piers. Relationships had been based on less.
Wycke broke the kiss, murmuring, “We should be getting back.”
Piers stood at the water’s edge, watching the sun sink below the horizon. “Can we please stay a bit longer? There’s something I want to see.”
Slowly the world darkened, and the stars came out.
Piers sank down onto his back on the sand, Wycke beside him, staring up at the sky. “The night is so beautiful. The stars are different where I’m from. That’s what Uncle Lee used to tell me. Now I know what he meant.” He pointed upward. “There’s a constellation that looks like a horse.”
“The centaur,” Wycke corrected. “And over there”—he pointed to the left— “is the woodland elf. See his bow?”
“I do!” Piers stared out at moonlight shining on the rolling waves. Oh, for Uncle Lee to be here with him, showing him around, sharing more stories that were no longer merely tales but history.