So much better sharing space with only Jess.
At last, he wandered back to his room, reached into the closet behind a few boxes, and pulled out his old, ratty backpack, the one he claimed he kept for sentimental reasons, like the stuffed cat.
How often had his uncle handed him this bag before he left for school? Then, the last time they’d spoken, his uncle filled the backpack with clothes and books and sent Piers on his way.
After telling him magic was real.
Piers sat on the bed, rifled through the bag to the secret compartment, and pulled out the leather-bound book. Opening the volume to the first page, he hovered his finger over the script. His mother’s book. Her writing, or someone else’s? Uncle never told him. Damn, but he missed the man.
He flipped a few pages until he found the drawing of a cat. Some of the other illustrations scared the bejeezus out of him, resembling demons or human body parts.
Uncle Lee called Piers’ mother evil. Then why give him the book? He flipped through a few more pages. For a moment, a mere second only, he swore the writing moved. Nope. Enough of his imagination running wild. Snapping the book closed, he rubbed his eyes—time for a nap before work.
First, he returned everything to the closet, then flopped down onto his bed.
Uncle sat with him in their tiny living room, folding mismatched socks. “You have a choice, you know. One day you’ll have to choose.”
“Choose what, Uncle Lee?”
“Whether or not to be like your mother.”
Piers jolted awake in his darkened room. He grabbed his phone to check the time. Good—he hadn’t overslept. His dreams haunted him as he dressed for work.
Good and evil. Choose wisely.
A niggling feeling in the pit of his gut whispered he’d have to choose soon.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Magical Realm
Stories told by Cook said the human and magical realms were the same once. Even without magic, some beings found their way through—like fairies, who flitted from realm to realm unimpeded. The separation happened millennia ago, if there was any truth to the story. Wycke never gave much credence to nursery tales.
He raised his right hand before his full-length mirror, sketching patterns in the air: up, down, and side to side: North, South, East, West. Just a little magic at first, nothing traceable to him. Then, in measured increments, he’d feed a little more power. The spell put down roots like a seed, slowly growing to create a portal for his eventual travel. Once on the other side, he’d remove his band completely and use magic discreetly but freely, if inexpertly.
Without proper training, many of his spells went awry. As a boy, new to the palace, he’d hidden well to spy on Sorcerer Aberfrer. While Wycke didn’t understand many of the more intricate of the sorcerer’s spells, he’d mastered portals as a way of escaping his prison. Unfortunately, of all the different realms, he’d only managed to access the human one.
What a breath of relief, visiting humans. Oh, to feel the magic pulsing in his veins like some living entity, to make things happen in an instant that he’d never dare try here.
This time, the king blessed Wycke’s travel. No reason to leave an image of himself behind.
Doppelgangers took so much work but came in handy for sneaking out, and his stayed in bed under the covers, semi-formed, incapable of movement. The servants never dared try to wake him, though. Instead, they’d blame his stasis on a wild night and tiptoe around the room or ignore their duties for the day.
Goodness knew he hadn’t seen his last valet since the man referred to him as a barbarian bastard. Wycke had told him to get the hell out. Barbarian, maybe, but why a bastard? Wycke’s parents joined properly long before his birth, as he’d told the man in no uncertain terms.
Saris referred to herself and Wycke as prisoners. Obligation formed her prison bars. Wycke’s consisted of smoke and mirrors. Sometimes he left simply to remind himself he could. Anytime. Never permanently. He wouldn’t abandon Saris.
So, no escaping forever. Visiting the human realm, running there every possible chance, gave him a taste of freedom. If he could master returning to his own realm within minutes of departing, like he’d heard Aberfrer mention, Wycke might never stay home. But he could never linger long enough in the human realm to lose his magic and trap himself there.
Saris becoming queen consort won some acceptance for Wycke. Between his king’s-brother-by-bonding status, exotic looks, and bad prince reputation, willing bodies came to Wycke’s bed with the wink of an eye.
Most, to use him for their own gain. He’d had his fill of politics and scheming. For a few hours or days, he could simply be Wycke.
He summoned a rather enterprising fairy who, for a price, flitted into the human world to secure lodging at Wycke’s favorite hotel chain and deliver his packed luggage.
He glanced behind him with a frown.
Chynne frowned back. Cats could frown? At least the familiar remained in feline form. The snake might be helpful at some point, but one swat and no more spider—familiar or not.
