Piers didn’t know how to feel. Magically linked to Wycke for all time? Wait! Wycke, covered in blood, falling to the floor.
“Is he okay? He didn’t die?”
“No. Your mate is very much alive and looking forward to your waking.”
Warmth bloomed in Piers’ chest.
But did Wycke stay with him out of free will? “Is the attraction we feel for each other simply because of you?”
“No. We nearly chose the current high king and queen but saw an even greater opportunity in their siblings, as humans distrust magical practitioners on the throne. You were always destined for your prince, and he for you. The bond didn’t create the seeds that will one day become love.” The being glanced around. “We must go. Even now, this form is fading. But know this. We trust Sorcerer Aberfrer. He will guide you. Listen to him.”
“Will you do me a small favor before you go?” Piers’ heart ached. He didn’t even have a photo of his uncle. The few he’d had burned in the fire. Nothing left of their time together but his memories and a ragged stuffed cat.
“Certainly.” Without asking anything more, the magical image gave a bittersweet smile. Its voice deepened, its skin roughened, scars appearing on its face and exposed arms. Uncle Lee, dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, black socks on his feet. So familiar. Piers dove into his outstretched arms.
Uncle Lee pressed a kiss to Piers’ temple. “I’m so proud of you, my boy.” The voice, the hugs, even the scent of Uncle Lee’s favorite soap.
Piers sank into the warmth and words of praise, clinging tightly. If he held hard enough, could he keep the man with him?
He opened his eyes. Once more, Piers sat by a pool in an empty cavern, still feeling the embrace.
The cavern disappeared. Wind brushed across his face, bringing with it the clean scent of snow, though no cold. He recalled a stone table, but he lay on softness now, his agony a distant memory.
Remember us,someone whispered.
Piers woke in a comfortable bed, a sleeping Wycke’s arms around him.
Wait a minute. Bertillian and Hanaran?
CHAPTER FORTY
Slowly, so slowly, slumber released Wycke from its grasp. He blinked hard to clear his eyes. Shadows crept across the floor. Nearly night. What the fuck? His heart hammered.
Piers stared down at him.
Piers. Here. Alive. Awake. Wycke launched himself into Piers’ arms. “Oh, gods and ancestors! I thought I’d lost you.”
“You woke up! Are you okay? What happened? Where are we, and how did we get here?” Piers pushed Wycke back to arms’ length, running his troubled gaze up and down Wycke’s body.
“Slow down!” Wycke held up a hand. “Give me a minute.” Shaking his head didn’t clear the cobwebs. “Are you okay?”
“Other than not knowing where we are or what happened, I am.” Piers kept his gaze riveted to Wycke’s face. “It’s you I’m worried about.” The worry showed in the tightness around Piers’ eyes, the pursed lips.
An image came to mind: Piers shrieking in agony, chest flayed open.
White light.
Wycke dropped his eyes to Piers’ chest. No gaping hole. No white light. Not even a scar. Had Wycke dreamed those things? He let out a relieved breath. “I’m fine and so fucking happy to see you are. I’m not sure what happened, but I remember us being together and wanting us to be in a bed. Here we are.” Wycke shrugged.
“I wondered if you’d ever wake up!”
“I thought the same about you the last time I woke.” Wycke knuckled one eye and yawned. Sleep. He needed more sleep. Maybe for the rest of his life. “Have you seen anyone else?”
“No. I only woke myself about an hour ago. You said you were awake earlier. Did you find out about Jess? Saris? Chynne?”
Wycke nodded. “I spoke with Aberfrer.”
“Aberfrer.” Piers cocked his head to the side. “I think I’ve heard that name. Who is he?”
