“I was not informed of the queen consort’s plans.”
Should Wycke consider “the queen consort’s plans” a good thing versus “the king’s plans for the queen consort?”
“Do you at least know if she’s well?”
“She is well,” Piers said, tilting his head. “She worries, but she’s fine.” He straightened his head. “How do I know?”
Aberfrer tutted. “Ah, the young of the generation. ’Twill be a miracle if we last another thousand seasons.”
“Did you come here for a reason?” Being naked with only a sheet for protection between Wycke and someone who might or might not be his worst enemy wasn’t a comfortable situation. Well, one of his worst enemies. His brother or Lady Nyanda held the top spot.
Or they had.
“You are to be dressed and ready to present yourselves to the high king when the sun stands directly overhead.”
“In case you haven’t noticed, we have no clothes.” Wycke checked. All his clothing and shoes—gone.
“Clothing will be arranged.”
“What time is it now?”
“First light. I’ll have a proper meal brought.” Aberfrer’s bearing and tone gave no indication of what Wycke and Piers might soon face.
“You do that.”
With a pointed look at Piers, Aberfrer left. He might as well have said,I’m keeping an eye on you.
Piers grabbed Wycke in a stranglehold. “What is the king going to do? Will we be killed?”
“I don’t know, but I won’t let anyone harm you.” Wycke held Piers, their magic ebbing and flowing around them. Piers calmed, swaying, taking Wycke with him. Wycke promised what he could. He whispered against Piers’ hair, “Whatever happens, I’m here for you.”
Their magic had decided.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
Wycke stood before a room he vaguely recalled as his father’s office, heart pounding. High King Broen opened the door himself. “Your Majesty.” Wycke inclined his head. He didn’t dare throw himself into the man’s arms, praising the ancestors and every known deity for Broen’s restored mind.
Broen cocked an eyebrow. “You’ve never shown me reverence before. Why start now?” One hand on Wycke’s shoulder, he gestured with the other for Wycke to sit, not in front of the desk, but in a comfortable chair adjacent to a loveseat. Both appeared new, as did the desk, so must’ve been brought from Dhugach.
Broen took the loveseat, sighing as he sank down. Shadows hallowed his cheeks and eyes. The entire room held a hint of neglect, matching his weary appearance. He let out a heavy sigh. “Wycke, whatever are we to do with you?”
“No executions or cells has my vote.”
Broen studied Wycke several long moments. “I have a problem. A magical problem.”
“And I have magic.” More than Wycke ever dreamed possible, thanks to Piers. At Aberfrer’s urging, Wycke had removed the suppression cuff. His magic had outgrown any attempt to hide.
“And you have magic.” Broen leaned forward, narrowing his eyes. “Magic you and your sister hid from me, which I can understand, under the circumstances. You were a child. Saris was worried for you. She also lied about hiding Nyanda’s offspring, a child I now find to be of my own bloodline. Those are treasonous charges.”
“You cannot blame my sister for having a big heart.” Maybe Wycke should use his magic, take his sister, far, far away.
“No, I cannot. That’s part of her appeal. I’d hoped she’d use her big heart to love me and our children one day.” Broen shook his head. “I’ve been patient, but it seems a happy family is not meant to be.”
Broen’s pain echoed in Wycke’s heart. So, he’d dissolve his bond to Saris. “You’ll try her for treason?”
A fire spell couldn’t have jolted Broen any harder. “I’ll do no such thing. She was forced into this bond with me. It wasn’t of her own choosing. But enough about Saris. We are here to speak about you.”
“I’d rather speak of Saris.”
