The ogre shook his head, extending a hand roughly three times the size of Wycke’s. “M’name’s George in this realm. Ever since I noticed him, I’ve watched.”
“You”—Wycke gulped— “and him?”
George screwed up his face, giving him an even more sinister look. “Nah. It’s just… my family came here to escape the war when the sorcerers’ magic destroyed our home. No offense, but my kind see humans with magic as a realm-ending accident waiting to happen.”
“He has magic?” So Wycke hadn’t imagined his earlier impressions.
George shrugged. “I’m not sure. Every now and then, I feel something, then the feeling goes away. Almost like I’m searching for something that doesn’t want to be found.”
Similar to how Saris described Wycke with his power-suppression band. Interesting. He hadn’t noticed any jewelry. An enchanted cock ring, maybe? “So why are you protecting him?”
George shrugged again. “Because he seems like a good guy. If he’s good, I kinda want him to stay good, if you know what I mean.”
Wycke hated to ask, but, “What happens if he stops being good?”
The planes of George’s face drew into taut, hard lines. “If he’s a threat, we’ll take care of him.”
“We’ll?” Wycke didn’t like the sound of the plural.
“Me and some other magicals make sure we don’t have to find another home again.” George rolled his shoulders, joints popping. “We’ve seen the occasional magical human, outlaws, mostly. We… deal with them. So, I also look out for our friend behind the bar. If a bad element got hold of him…”
Which left Wycke no choice: he must get better acquainted with Piers.
“I just saw a moment of horror on your face,” George said, “which means you know exactly what could happen. The guy seems oblivious, and maybe it’s not even him we’re feeling, but he bears watching. I’ve approached him in human guise. Even some fae have tried. He doesn’t see through our glamours, keeps to himself, or rather to himself and the colorful female he never seems to be without.”
“She’s his roommate, I think.”
“Oh. Did King Broen send you? Don’t bother lying. Your thoughts show on your face. Word of advice. Never play cards with pixies. You’d lose.”
No need to lie. “Not King Broen, but Queen Saris. She said a friend came here during the war—a friend she hasn’t heard from, so wanted me to check.”
George’s mouth dropped open. “Saris? Your sister? King Broen took her for his mate?”
“Yes.”
“I admired Prin… Queen Saris’s mother. Your mother too, I suppose. She was good to our people, dealt fairly with us. Unlike her mate.” George spat. The awful hawking sound ended in a splash in a nearby puddle. Thank the gods for darkness. Some things Wycke simply didn’t want to see.
“Do you know of a Sir Lyvianne, a Myrgren royal guard who came from our realm?”
George shook his head. “Can’t say I do, but I’ll ask around. Few humans from our realm stay. Why should they, when their ilk rule in ours?” More than a touch of bitterness laced the words.
Politics. The last thing Wycke needed. “When he came here, he came with a child. A child born to magical parents.”
“Now, that, I’d know. No. No humans around here have magic unless you count the bartender, which might just be from some sort of protection spell. Besides, I’ve always heard that humans lose their magic in this realm after a while. I don’t personally know any who’ve come here, so I can’t say.”
George spoke way too openly with Wycke to have been suspicious of him such a short time ago.
“Why are you telling me all this when you don’t trust me?”
George grinned, showing a mouthful of enormous teeth. “Because if you do something we don’t like, we will end you.” He spoke the words so casually, as though he’d not just threatened violence.
Take ogre threats lightly at your own risk. “Then I must make sure not to do anything you don’t like.”
“You do that.” George turned, trudging down the alley out of sight, leaving Wycke with much to consider.
There was definitely something special about Piers.
Now to find out what.
