Jess went next, followed by Piers. Elf Boy gave Jess a quick wave before she vanished. He and the ogre stood back, watching the humans leave.
At last, Wycke stood before the portal. Though he’d crossed the realms this way many times, an ominous feeling always crept up his spine. A sense of wrongness that he didn’t belong to either world. The feeling passed once he reached the other side. However, this wasn’t a portal of his own making but a combination of his sister and Piers.
Pulling in a deep breath, he stepped through.
He hung, suspended in time and space for a moment, twisting in some unseen wind. Flashes of images appeared before his eyes, reflections in a dark window, glimpses of realms he’d yet to cross. Had they branched off from common ancestry like the human and magical realms? Some of the beings he spotted bore no resemblance to any living creature he’d seen before. Others could be close kin.
Was this an illusion or a slow-motion version of what he usually saw? Some unseen thing grabbed him, compelled him forward. With one last look at hundreds of realms, he stopped fighting. The force took him. A portal shimmered ahead. He stepped into his sister’s sitting room. The portal swirled a moment in midair, then settled.
Four men stood before him, wearing the colors of the royal guard and holding swords on Saris, Jess, and Piers.
What the…
A fifth man stepped forward at Wycke’s left, throwing back his hood to reveal long white braids. “Hello, brother.”
Radre. Or a sinister something wearing Radre’s body.
Wycke wouldn’t be intimidated by his brother or anyone else. “What is the meaning of this?”
Radre lounged back against the wall, an all too familiar smirk on his face, an expression Wycke often used in the past. Never again. “Why, don’t you know? You’re all fugitives. The high king will be pleased by your capture.”
Sunlight streamed through the window. Whatever time they’d landed in wasn’t night like in the human realm.
“Fugitives? What are you talking about?” Wycke’s heart thudded as he surveyed the room: the panicked expression on his sister’s face, the total confusion on Piers’, the defiant glare from Jess, the muscles twitching in her jaw and her fists clenching and unclenching, marking her as the one most likely to do something risky.
Piers might never forgive him. No sign of Chynne, though he might easily hide as some small creature.
Radre sneered, “By order of the high king, you’re all accused of treason.” He stalked up, putting his nose inches from Wycke’s face. “I’ll strip every ounce of magic you possess.” Breath warm against Wycke’s neck, he leaned in and whispered, “Then I’ll suck every bit of his considerable power from your plaything. Perhaps I’ll kill him first. Make you watch.”
Such hatred. Such venom. “What have I ever done to you?”
The being who might, or might not, be Wycke’s brother pulled back, pure fury in his eyes. “You exist, and you’re the spawn of a weakling.”
What? “If I am, so are you.”
One side of Radre’s mouth quirked upward. “Oh, no. I am so much more. Something even you wouldn’t comprehend.” He chuckled, patting Wycke’s cheek. Wycke jerked back. Radre’s smile fell. “Your father might have delayed my plans, but even kings can’t stop me.”
He whirled, doing one hell of an impression of a human drama queen on one of the reality TV shows Wycke watched while in the human realm. Unfortunately, the effect failed when Radre’s cloak tangled around his knees, nearly tripping him.
“Guards. Find a nice cell for them. Or not so nice. I leave the choice to your discretion. I have a high king to control.” Radre stalked out of the room.
“Your Majesty? Come with me, please.” Poor guard. Forced to follow uncomfortable orders.
A guard approached Saris. She appeared tiny compared to the massive, armed warrior. She’d still hold her own in any fight, with her wits alone. “I am queen consort, and this is an outrage. I demand to see my mate at once!”
“I have my orders, Majesty. High King Broen instructed us to follow King Radre’s commands.”
Somehow, Broen must’ve fallen under Radre’s spell. He’d never order Saris into a cell.
Wycke caught movement from the corner of his eye. Ever so slightly, he turned his head. A dark-as-night wild boar pawed the floor, letting out a snort of outrage. The guards never knew what hit them. Three fell on the first charge. The boar—Chynne?—skidded on the slick marble floor.
The lone standing guard hacked at the boar with his sword, slicing a long gash in its flank. The boar screamed.
The downed guards struggled to their feet.
Jess screeched a battle cry, snatched a flower display from a side table, and brought the crystal vase crashing down on the nearest guard’s head.
Saris held her hands out in a gesture of surrender, giving her best delicate flower impression. “I am the queen consort. Do you expect me to fight?” Her guard lowered his sword. “Oh, dear. I feel a bit faint.” Her eyes rolled back. She fell into a graceful crumple.
