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"I have a plan."
CHAPTER
FOURTEEN
As thumping footsteps came from within, Jackson leaped up, moving to look within the entryway. When Barrett's eyes met his, and Barrett smiled, a surge of relief washed over Jackson.
"He's okay." He breathed out in a rush. His feet moved before he could stop himself in a rush to get to Barrett.
Jackson slammed into the invisible barrier that kept him out because he was not a citizen of this realm. The thump vibrated through his nose and up through his skull. The pain wasn't bad, but a flush of embarrassment rose to his cheeks.
"Maybe wait for him to get to you," Lark chuckled, walking past Jackson and the barrier to embrace Barrett.
He had feared the worst, but the magic of this realm saved Barrett from an injury that would have destroyed him down below.
"Jackson," Barrett's voice rang out, echoing off the large hallway just behind the barrier.
And then he was there, his arms wrapping around Jackson until he'd pulled him close against him. Jackson's arms gripped Barrett, tugging the prince so close it might have smothered him.
"I thought you were going to die."
"I noticed," Barrett's lips found his with a quick kiss. "But that's not going to happen."
"Barrett, who is this man that cannot enter?" A voice that sounded like Barrett, if Barrett were a slight bit gruffer asked from out of me.
Jackson's heart leaped when he beheld the imposing figure before him. The king was tall, towering over them all, his broad chest clad in heavy plate armor made of some strange metal alloy that shimmered in a way that seemed almost alive. Calloused hands flexed on the pommel of a broadsword.
But it was more than his height.
Barrett was a carbon copy of the man who was truly his father. Jackson's mind was still reeling from the shock of seeing Barrett, and now he could not look away from the king.
The same high cheekbones, sharp jawline, and piercing eyes were all too apparent in King James. Even his stance seemed familiar somehow - a mix between regal indifference and relaxed watchfulness.
As if sensing his gaze upon him, King James turned his head slowly to glare down at Jackson from behind glacier-like cold blue eyes.
"Who are you?" The king asked again, his voice steely.
"This is the man who made it possible for me to be here again." Barrett slipped his hand into Jackson's and squeezed. "This is the man who saved me, not once, not even twice, but three times."
Even though it made no sense, Jackson had hoped Barrett would say this is the man he loved—but they were nowhere near that level. Maybe they never would be.
King James's face remained impassive as he towered above Jackson and the other survivors. The armor he wore, while heavy, made no sound as he walked. It was as if it were part of him, moving in unison with his every step until he stood outside the castle, mere inches from Barrett and Jackson.
"You are the one who climbed the skyward stalk." It wasn't a question.
Jackson nodded, uncertain where this would lead.
"Tell me your name."
"My name is Jackson Walker." A tremble crept into Jackson's voice as he replied, suddenly aware that he was once again around royalty.
As King James took another deep breath, you could almost hear the air swirl around him. It seemed tangible enough to grasp between your fingertips. It carried an indescribable scent—one that reminded Jackson of celestial flowers growing high above on clouds and cobweb-like vines twisting through ancient oak trees below.
Magic lingered everywhere here. It crackled in the air like electricity about to strike or whispered between lovers in secret corners of hidden gardens below Earth's realm. This was a place where anything seemed possible - if only one dared to reach for it.
The corners of King James's mouth twitched slightly as if considering something internal before shifting into a smile. It was like watching the sun peek out from behind a cloud after days of rain.
"Thank you," King James finally said in an almost whispered tone that seemed out of place coming from such a powerful man.
