“He’d be proud of you, you know,” Wycke said. “Your uncle. I wish I could remember him or could meet him now.”
For long moments Piers and Wycke remained side-by-side, fingers entwined. Finally, Piers asked, “What do you think King Broen will decide? They’re not going to kill us, are they?”
“No. We’re not,” came a voice from the shadows.
Piers shot upright, Wycke sitting up at a more leisurely pace.
Wycke’s squeezed his hand. “It’s okay. Broen, what are you doing here? Or do I need to call you High King Broen?” A trace of tension lurked in the words.
The king barked a laugh. “Since when have you ever deferred to a title? And as you took your time returning, and I do not enjoy waiting, I came to you.”
“Where are your guards?”
A fire sprang to life a few feet away, flames licking at a stack of driftwood, revealing Aberfrer. “I believe I can handle anything that comes our way. I’ve sent your guards back to the palace.”
They must really trust Piers and Wycke, to come here alone.
“Why are you here?” Wycke asked, pulling Piers close.
“May we sit down?” The king didn’t look very kingly, dressed casually in breeches and a loose shirt. His feet were bare. Still, he exuded authority.
“It’s your kingdom,” Wycke said, nodding toward the sand.
The king exchanged a look with Aberfrer, who waved a hand. They sat upon newly-created chairs. Oh, for Piers to have such control over his own abilities.
“I remember playing here as a boy,” Broen said, voice wistful. “Sad to say how many seasons it’s been since I’ve come here.”
“Myself as well,” Aberfrer added.
If he tried, Piers might be able to picture Broen as a child, especially after having a vision of what the king’s children would look like. Aberfrer? Not so much. They sat in silence for a few moments, long enough for Piers’ nerves to fray. Would they please just state their purpose?
Finally, Broen said, “We’ve come to tell you our decision.”
Wycke locked a death grip onto Piers’ hand.
Aberfrer continued, “As part of a new treaty with the magical races, we’ve agreed to follow Queen Meyghian’s suggestion if you’re agreeable.”
Piers looked to Wycke for confirmation, who shrugged. Piers let out a sigh of relief.
King Broen looked from one of them to the other. “We’d like you to return to the human realm, under Aberfrer’s watchful eye. He’ll keep me apprised of your progress in dealing with those from our world.”
“You’ll make them leave?” George had made a home in the human realm, as had Vale and many others. Piers couldn’t in good conscience tell them to give up their homes again.
“No.” Broen smiled. In that smile, and other facial features illuminated by firelight, Piers saw traces of his own. “Those who wish to return will be assisted in doing so; however, we’d like a full accounting of any who stay.”
Wycke narrowed his eyes. “Why?”
“Doesn’t the region of the human realm where Piers made his home account for its citizens? Just because they live elsewhere doesn’t mean our people shouldn’t be represented.” Something deep in Broen’s voice compelled Piers to believe him. “In addition, families were separated during the war. Wouldn’t you wish to know if a loved one you thought gone forever still lived?”
“Still making up for my father’s stupidity,” Wycke groused.
“My father’s as well. There were other ways to handle the situation than war and destruction, that wouldn’t have left us still piecing the kingdom back together these many seasons later.”
Piers barely knew the man but found himself liking Broen more and more. But… “What would you have done if queen Meyghian hadn’t stood up for us?”
Broen didn’t hesitate before answering, “I would have sat down with you, negotiated an agreement, like I would anyone else in power. I’d rather have the two of you as allies than enemies. With your potential, you can also do many good things.” He shrugged, the casual gesture making him appear more human, more approachable. “You can better serve two realms alive than dead.”
Wycke asked, “How would you know you could trust us?”