At last, an opening appeared before them. As one, they surged toward the vision of blue skies and puffy white clouds.
Too late, they noticed what else awaited them.
King Fuckwad Radre.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Wycke pulled in a deep breath. And another. And another. The arms clutching him fell away, and he stared down at the closed eyes of his savior.
Two guards grabbed his arms, hauling him upward. But… the gargoyle! They couldn’t just leave her.
“A traitor, just like your father,” spat a third guard, a captain, based on his uniform.
Magic! Where are you?Wycke barely had time to brace before a fist slammed into his gut through his poor attempt at a shield. He sagged, supported by his escort.
The captain looped a golden chain over each of Wycke’s wrists. “This will suppress any magic. Now, bring him.”
“Lawless bastard,” sneered the man on Wycke’s left. He spat on the ground, yanking Wycke forward. Wycke’s other escort kept quiet, no doubt keeping his head down lest someone point out that he’d been one of Prince Wicked’s many conquests.
Wycke’s ears rang from the impact with the ground, and his ribs hurt from the blow. Thankfully, the gargoyle had shielded him from the worst of the fall, or his injuries would’ve been far worse. The other guards parted to let them through, shouting, “Barbarian!” and “Traitor!”
“Where’s your slut of a sister?” one grinning man asked.
Oh, hell no! Wycke wrenched free from his guards, launching himself at the asshole who’d dared speak ill of Saris. Wycke slammed his fist into the man’s face; the man shrieked, clutching his bloody nose.
A beefy guard wrapped his arms around Wycke, pulling him back. “Don’t give them a reason to hurt you.”
Wycke twisted around to see Saris’s personal guard clutching him tightly. Sympathy shone from Sir Broderick’s eyes. “Your sister would have my ass if I let any harm come to you.”
Saris. “You heard what he said about her!” Wycke grumbled. The more he writhed, the tighter Broderick held on.
“Yes, and I’ll show him the error of his ways. Now is not the time or the place.”
The two who’d taken Wycke from the gargoyle latched onto his arms again. This time, enough of his senses returned to allow Wycke to walk on his own without being dragged.
He glanced back over his shoulder, seeing only flattened grass where the gargoyle had lain.
Although Wycke hadn’t fought—much—the guards took great delight in the extra punch or kick until Sir Broderick intervened. Many Dhugach guards quietly hated Wycke since his arrival at the palace, the enemy who’d had the king’s ear for too long. The prince they’d been forced to respect because of his sister, the queen.
Queen no more if Radre now sank his hooks into High King Broen. Saris’s rejection of her mate could only be tolerated for so long.
Wycke sat in what amounted to a dungeon in Dhugach, where digging underground wasn’t an option due to proximity to the sea. Instead, some ancient king had built cells into a volcanic cave system, the volcano long asleep. At least Wycke got his wish to be away from the monotonous palace marble.
Now he sat in a natural cave, surrounded by dull gray stone. Although the window appeared completely open, spells, from a time when the average builder possessed more magic, kept the rain out and prisoners in.
At least a breeze managed to penetrate the invisible barrier, keeping him somewhat cooler. He sat on the floor, leaned against the wall, and winced. Ow. The back of his head hurt. His ribs hurt, and many other parts of his abused body. The gargoyle’s body had cushioned him surprisingly well. So, she’d only looked like stone.
Her blood stained his clothing. Was she all right? Had she escaped?
No other prisoners shuffled around nearby, and no new arrivals appeared after Wycke. Had Saris escaped? Piers?
Out of favor with the king or not, Saris wasn’t likely to be imprisoned in a cell with common criminals. More likely, kept in her room. Though how house arrest—a term learned from human-realm television—differed from her typical day-to-day existence, Wycke couldn’t say.
The truth hit him. Why Saris couldn’t love her mate, didn’t want him. Didn’t want to give him children.
Although Broen showed kindness to Saris and her errant brother, asked her opinion on matters of state, she’d never be an equal. Not when confined to the palace. Even her brief forays out-of-doors included guards not only assigned to protect her but to confine. A long talk with his brother-by-joining waited in the future if Wycke survived long enough to air his grievances.
With nothing better to do, he removed his wristband and opened his mind, searching out his sister. Nothing. He tried for Piers. Again, nothing. Unsurprising, since only the most powerful and best-trained mages and sorcerers could connect at a distance. He and Piers shared a days-old bond.
