They’d all die anyway if he remained imprisoned, and if the worst-case came to be, he’d rather die at Aberfrer’s hand than Radre’s.
“Do you have any love for sorcerers?” he asked Sir Broderick.
Broderick studied Wycke for a long moment, a touch of cunning in his eyes. “Are you asking if I trust Aberfrer?”
Wycke exhaled a noisy breath, heart hammering in his chest. “No. I’m asking ifIcan.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Piers lay naked on a long table, arms pinned to his sides. A long, rough, hard stone table. Though no visible bindings held him, few muscles moved at his command. His heart pounded. This had to be some horrible nightmare where he dreamed he was awake and couldn’t get out of bed. Any moment now, his shrill phone alarm would pull him from this horror, or Jess would shake him awake with concern in her eyes she wouldn’t let show any other way. She’d had her share of bad dreams too.
Couldn’t the ruler of nightmares at least cover Piers’ junk with a sheet or something?
Though he couldn’t move his head, he shifted his eyes, taking in as much of the room as possible. Old rock walls peeked out through sagging tapestries. He stared out an open window at snow-covered mountains, the kind of background used on Christmas cards. No glass, but no cold seemed to penetrate the window.
A fire crackled somewhere nearby, radiating warmth over his right side. Incense hung thick in the air; the cloying kind Max burned in his office to cover the pot smell when he smoked a joint on the job. The heavy scent instantly clogged Piers’ throat with cotton, stuffing his sinuses.
Front and center stood the biggest asshole in two entire realms.
Looking at Piers’ naked body.
“Ah, my dearest. Many times you lay upon this table as a baby while I took your blood for my spells.” Radre ran a finger down the scar on Piers’ sternum. “You have something of mine. I want it back.”
My dearest? Brother of Wycke’s or not, somewhere King Radre of Myrgren lost all his marbles. His picture should be in the dictionary under “batshit crazy.”
Radre continued stroking Piers’ chest. Piers tried desperately to wriggle away. “I put my most precious possession in a strong, locked box. To get it back, I mustbreakthe seal.” Wycke swore this realm had no television, but Radre the Insane showed all the signs of too many late nights watching sinister B-movie villains.
Radre bent at the waist, long white braids brushing against Piers’ skin. Mouth close enough for his foul breath to ghost over Piers’ cheek, Radre said, “Are you aware of how you fell into my hands? Hmmm? Not even a little bit curious?”
Even if the bastard spoke the truth by some chance, Piers couldn’t believe a word he said. Best to take every syllable for a lie. “Not in the least.” By all appearances, Vale led them right to their enemy and hadn’t been seen since, yet Piers’ heart told him Vale didn’t lie. He’d had the opportunity to steal Piers’ magic yet only took enough to heal Jess.
Then again, given Jess’s past horrible choices in men…
Radre straightened, letting out a cruel laugh. “You should be curious. Don’t you wonder how I found you so quickly? You see, your lover grew tired of you. You, who’d rather be human than embrace your destiny. You bored him.”
Liar!Piers once more saw Wycke, the warmth in his eyes.They’d just met and somehow accidentally bonded, but nothing he felt from Wycke implied they’d part ways anytime soon.
Which wasn’t even an option, Chynne claimed.
Besides, Wycke didn’t know Piers got away, and certainly not how. If Saris hadn’t been aware of the caves, was Wycke? Hadn’t Vale said the caves kept others out?
Too bad whatever magic protected the caves didn’t keep others from waiting for Piers, Jess, Saris, and Vale on the other side.
Radre continued spinning a web of lies. “He knew you’d never leave him alone, you pathetic little insect, so he gave you to me. He never even demanded payment. It’s the first thing my brother ever did that made any sense.” The asshole didn’t know when to shut the hell up. “He said you were only good as a vessel for his spending.”
Piers nearly laughed out loud.Vesselfor his spending?Really? Wycke didn’t talk like a poor excuse for a period-drama actor.
Whatever spell held Piers in place dampened his connection to Wycke, or perhaps they were physically too far apart. Crazy Train couldn’t possibly know of Wycke and Piers’ accidental bonding. If he did, he’d know Wycke could no more sacrifice Piers than his own life. To break their bond, one must die. The fate of the other would be the same. No divorce in the magical realm, if you’d magically bound.
Besides, Chynne wouldn’t allow betrayal. Piers needed to keep Radre talking. Wycke would come. If not, Jess. Or Chynne. Hadn’t Chynne said he could intervene to save Piers from mortal danger?
Piers glimpsed a sight to make his blood run cold: his mother’s grimoire laid out on an ornate stand. Oh shit! From this distance, he nearly made out the words. The whisperings almost made sense. The asshole somehow found a way to use it.
Along the walls, twelve blue-robed figures waited. In the human world, the number had meaning. Maybe twelve meant something here too.
Radre sneered. “What a sniveling, pathetic thing you are. To think, I spread my legs for your idiot of a father.”
What the ever-loving fuck?
