Broen used his best kingly voice. “I have spoken.” By his words, he declared Saris his equal.
The sorcerer silenced the mage with a quelling glance. “High King Broen of House Hanaran. Your words bind you to this woman, to be forever hers.” Never would another king have promised himself this way.
Half-hearted clapping resounded around the chapel.
The resolution on Saris’s face brought tears to Wycke’s eyes. A captive, going to her doom. Could she not see the sacrifice Broen made for her?
No, she wouldn’t. She’d only see chains.
A nameless noble, indistinguishable from the last dozen or so, toasted the couple. Blah, blah, blah. Wycke rested his head on his hand, elbow on the table, despite repeated glares from those around him.Please let this reception end!
While people avoided Wycke, a few women brazenly sought Radre’s attention, an eligible king who hadn’t yet chosen a queen of his own. According to rumor, his bed never remained empty long enough to consider taking someone permanently into his life.
Wycke could hardly wait to sully his own reputation by actually doing something worthy of ruin instead of relying on whatever nonsense the courtiers created.
When the fawning wound down and Radre departed with a few willing bedmates, the king finally stood. Time to praise his queen’s beauty, drink a toast, then retire to bed her.
Wycke cringed at the thought.
Instead, King Broen said, “It is to my great horror to have discovered the ill-treatment my new queen and her brother have suffered at the hands of my people. My people! Who dared to dishonor my intended? She is my queen. I value her counsel. Any insult or threat to her or her kin is an insult to me. Queen Saris is a citizen of Dhugach. Her brothers are my guests. To make them feel less than welcome is to earn my wrath.”
He sat. Murmuring stirred throughout the hall. Anyone bold enough to meet Wycke’s gaze quickly turned away. Hah! Take that!
Even the king’s words couldn’t help Wycke’s acceptance but might at least calm the whispers, slights, and subtle abuse he’d suffered—if only while in public.
The next day Wycke strolled the hallways. Servants flitted by, none stopping to gawk, laugh, or hiss. Nothing but new faces, except for the cook, who greeted him with a scone. He passed by Broen’s office on the way back to his rooms. The three white-faced event planners who’d likely conspired with Radre to keep Saris’s side of the chapel empty trembled as they fled the room. They left the palace shortly afterward.
Wycke smiled.
Long live Queen Saris.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Six Years Later – Human Realm
“Freak!” The bully shoved Piers.
Piers went down on his butt. He wouldn’t cry. He wouldn’t. Instead, he bit his bottom lip, balling his hands into fists.
“Poor little orphan. I bet your parents didn’t die. They just didn’t want you.” The bully’s cronies laughed around them. No help there.
Piers rose to his feet. They wouldn’t be the boss of him. Uncle taught him to stand up for himself.
“The little baby’s gonna cry. Oh, boo hoo.” The bully scrubbed fists against his eyes.
Which doubled Piers’ resolve not to show any emotion. Where were the teachers? How could they always disappear every time this overgrown toddler decided to pick on someone half his size?
Six boys in all. Did they think themselves brave, taking on a kid two classes below them? If Uncle Lee were alive, Piers wouldn’t have to worry about anyone; he’d have learned to kick some ass.
Fists by his sides, Piers fixed the bully with the intimidating glare Uncle taught him. “Leave me alone.” Something inside of Piers clicked. A gear slotting into place. No time to figure it out now. At the moment, he desperately needed an escape.
The gear clicked again.
“Why? Whatcha gonna do about it?” The bully stepped closer. Dark clouds covered the sun. The wind surged, whipping the kid’s jacket. “I said, ‘Whatcha gonna do?’”
Thunder rumbled. A spatter of rain splashed against Piers’ nose. Other sounds died away, except his pounding heartbeat, the rolling thunder, and the steady whoosh of his breathing. He heard them all clearly.
Time stopped. Nothing existed but Piers and his tormenter. And more rain, showering against his face. The bully grabbed Piers’ collar.
