"A deck of cards." My throat was scratchy. "As in, a deck of playing cards, you know?"

From the silence of this cloaked figure in front of me, I deduced they didn't know.

"They're, uh," I gulped, losing conviction. "They're a set of cards, numbered one through ten. Some are face-cards, based on royal figures. Jacks, Queens, Kings. And then...the aces." I winced as I peeked at the four thrones, then at the black-veiled individual before me. I couldn't see their eyes, and still I sensed they were glaring. "These cards are used for various games. Poker, Royal Battle, or our favorite in Springport, called How Many Lovers of the Queen—"

The cloaked person gasped. "Lovers of the queen?"

"Wait," said Ysac, fidgeting beside me. He shoved a hand into his pants pocket. "Do you mean...ugh, come on." He chewed on his lip as he fished around, and pulled out what clearly resembled the very type of deck of cards I'd described. "These? We call them picture cards. I use them sometimes to entertain guests."

He slid a few of the cards into my grasp. They felt the same way ours did, the same sleek texture and shininess. The same height and width, too. They were glossy, with bright colors, though not the reds and blacks I was used to.

"You use these to play games, then? Like us?"

One card had a scarlet rose on its surface, and a III embedded on the top left and bottom right. The next was black, with vibrant white lilies wrapping around the number "IV". The third was a sunflower with "I" sprinkled on its petals. We rarely employed such numerals in Eroa, but I'd seen them before in our library's ancient tomes.

These cards were fascinating, and yet I couldn't hold on to them for long. The simple act of touching a playing card brought me back to the moment—an hour? Two hours? Two days ago?—when I'd opted to foolishly believe Father's legend was fake.

"What are the rules?" I gestured at them, as Ysac shuffled them.

"Oh, well, I don't use them to play, per se. I use them for tricks." He beamed at me as he pulled off a shuffling stunt the likes of which I'd never seen. I immediately glared at him thinking he'd done it by magic. "Guessing games with the courtiers, mainly. They love those." Despite my impromptu switch to anger, his eyes swelled like jasmine petals expanding in water as he held up another card. A field of tulips encircled by the number "II". "I would make you choose one, and you'd imagine a scenario, and—"

"—Ysac," said the cloaked being, still standing before us, waiting for us to finish our conversation.

Then I remembered the other three individuals—those I assumed to be these infamous Aces Ysac had briefly told me about.

Ysac's gaze lost its luster as he bowed at the veiled figure. The others were cautiously making their approach, their faces wary. "My apologies, Your Graces. I...I got caught up."

Another Ace sidled up to the covered one. His jaw was squared, and his odd, citrine shaded eyes narrowed on Ysac. "We see that," he said, fiddling with a bracelet around his wrist, a charm dangling from it—a club. He'd been sitting on the throne under the club sigil, to the far left of the podium.

He was poised, giving me the airs of a posh aristocrat, but his expression was tight, impenetrable. His luscious locks of black hair draped over the side of his face, accentuating his caramel-colored complexion. Layers of silky, shiny gray and glowing gold garbed his tall and gently muscular figure. He wasn't bulky by any means, but the way he carried himself so stiffly intimidated me.

"Who is this, Ysac?" The man—mage—had been glowering at me, but upon taking me in from head to toe, his eyes softened. Then widened. Then...glowed? He looked at me like I shimmered in heavenly light. A creature of the unknown...and not human.

Did he sense or see something in me that I didn't? Did he know I wasn't from around here? Such a situation would go badly in one of my books; this man would shift into a monster and bite my head off. Or the others and him would join forces and smack chains around my arms to lock me up for interrogation.

Ysac nudged me. "Introduce yourself," he whispered, his breath caressing my ear and sending ripples of chills down my neck.

Well, if this mage was going to eat me, Ysac didn't seem too conflicted about it.

"I...uh...I'm Teodric." I'd never been so tongue-tied, so flushed, so confused. As a prince, I learned to speak eloquently at a young age, and never stammered my words unless I was heavily drunk. And while I had been drinking before getting here, I had no doubt my supernatural voyage had sobered me up.

These four impressive beings peered at me, each more splendid than the next. The two still loitering in the distance—a bald woman and a blond-haired brute of a man—watched me with intensity. I felt their gazes on me even without knowing for sure that they were looking at me.

My title of crown prince, future king would mean little to these people.

"Pleased to meet you, Teodric." The black-haired man pressed one of his large hands over his chest as he bowed. "I'm Sir Sym, Ace of Club Fields." He never disconnected his gaze from me, and my cheeks swarmed with heat. His lips twitched. "You haven't fully introduced yourself though, have you? Who are you? Truly?"

I swallowed, my saliva sharp as spikes.

Magic. This place is full of magic.

Had he read my mind? Or did I smell like royalty to him? And what did royalty smell like—

Ysac elbowed me again.

"Ahem," I tugged on the sleeves of my robe, "you're correct. I forgot something. I'm a prince; the soon-to-be-sworn-in King of Springport. In Eroa." I gulped.

"Eroa?" The Ace who'd been nearest the diamond sigil edged up to Sir Sym. A dark-skinned lady, and not bald as I'd thought from afar; instead, her hair was white, shaved. Her eyes were like prismatic, multicolored gems. "What is that?" She was captivating, with the metallic shades on her eyelids, and a deep hue on her lips, giving her airs of some being from another universe. She was as tall as Sir Sym, and draped head to toe in a copper and green jumpsuit that reflected all colors of the rainbow whenever she moved.

"Where, you mean," said the veiled Ace. Their obscure outfit more or less matched the seashell-covered throne, sitting under the clover symbol. "Eroa...it's a realm. Another world. Parallel to Efura, if memory serves." Their voice was difficult to interpret. Neither female nor masculine, it was neutral, simple. Their veil masked their entire face, not a shred of skin displayed. Their matching black, loose-fitting robe concealed their whole body. Thick leather gloves completed the look.

I kept staring at them, through them, as if I'd see their eyes glow, or the outline of a mouth, to show me if they were smiling sinisterly, or if their lips were down-turned.

They gave a sharp nod as they motioned at the veil. "I'm neither gender, dear Teodric. I'm gender-less. A being of matter and air and magic."

I hiccupped and stumbled backwards. How did they know what I was thinking?

Catching my breath—my heart raced out of control—I tapped a finger to my temple. "You...you read minds?"

This place is loaded with crazy, impossible, nightmarish magic.

I still hadn't dismissed the possibility that I was nestled beneath my plush covers, in my chambers, so drunk my skin laughed at me as I tried to pinch it to wake up. None of this made sense, but I didn't have this vivid of an imagination. Could I have dreamed this up? Card suits and mages and jesters?

"Sometimes I can, yes. But in this case...my child, I only needed to read your body language to perceive your confusion." The shrouded being's voice wasn't harsh or offended. They spoke softly, each word measured, enunciated. "It's common for those coming from elsewhere to stare at me. To try their hardest to decipher who or what I am. But this is who I am." Though they employed a tonality I'd never heard, I realized their voice...soothed me. It rang like a gentle melody in my ears. "You've met Sir Sym." He gestured at the silky-haired man. "And this," he signaled towards the beautiful, dark-toned lady, "is Lady Ossenna." I couldn't tell for sure, but the way they twisted their neck towards the woman, I thought they were side-glaring at her. "She's sorry for mistaking your realm for something instead of somewhere."

Lady Ossenna dipped her chin. "Indeed, quite sorry, Prince Teodric." When she raised her head again, her eyes sparkled with emotion—but what emotion that was, I couldn't ascertain.

"That one," the veiled being jutted a thumb over their shoulder, at the remaining mage who hadn't approached me, "is Sir Otho. I'm not sure why he's acting shy right now."

The fourth and final mage grunted as he stormed up to us. He wasn't as large as I'd imagined from a distance, but his musculature was quite spectacular. He easily rivaled the build of our most fit guards in Springport. He was, I ached to acknowledge, mind-numbingly beautiful. I'd definitely never said or thought such a thing about a man, but the smoky, honeyed aura about him was impossible to ignore.

"Stop that," said the masked creature, snapping at Sir Otho. "Not this way."

Whatever it was Sir Otho had done to annoy the shrouded creature, he shrugged, pouted his lips once, then bowed to me. "Honored, Your Highness." He pushed aside his tresses, which were colored like fields of wheat, tumbling in sleek, lengthy waves behind his back.

The veiled being cleared their throat. "And you may address me as Arden. We're the Aces of Acewood, current overseers of the kingdom."

"And..." said the striking, blond-haired Otho, his long yet graceful legs carrying him back to the podium. "Now that we all know each other...can we return to our matter of concern?"

Sir Sym scoffed. "You're telling me you're not more curious about what this young man has told us? He's from another realm, Otho. Doesn't that intrigue you?"

Lady Ossenna set a hand on Sir Sym's upper arm, but removed it so fast I thought I might have imagined it.

"Well," Sir Otho grunted, stroking his chin as if he had a thick beard there to lose his fingers in, "yes, sure, I'm intrigued. But mostly concerned why they," he pointed at Arden, "are only now admitting to being aware of this intrusion." His tight-fitting red and pink velvet suit was sprinkled with mauve hearts that matched the one floating above his throne.

Arden turned on their heels, standing with their back to Sir Sym and Lady Ossenna, their side to me. "There was nothing to admit. We never needed to look into something like this. We've never come close to being invaded by other realms. My hunch from earlier...it was wrong. Teodric is not..."

Sir Sym pivoted, too, his broad chest shifting out of view. Instead, I sighted his well-defined arms as he positioned himself to get a better visual of Sir Otho and Arden's apparent staring contest.

What Sir Otho was able to see under the veil was beyond me; but it prompted him to groan and climb back onto the dais and onto his throne. Even in his annoyance, the mage was...well, something about him interested me, and I couldn't figure out what. The brooding face clashing with the loud colors he wore, maybe?

I'd never been much for blonde women, but the blond men here—Ysac and Sir Otho—caused strange flurries to wake in my gut. Yes, I'd admired men back home, respected them, and had no qualms complimenting them when they were good-looking. But these men were incredibly handsome. Dashing. Confident and brawny and everything I wasn't.

I didn't look at them in envy or jealousy. This was...

Oh, dear. It was desire. And I'd recognize desire, as I'd let it inflame me countless times back in Springport. For women.

Why were these gorgeous men drawing me in? And why was I so invested in how attractive they were? Lady Ossenna was marvelous too, an orb of mystery in the crowd of masculinity. I loved women, I'd worshiped their bodies so many times that I got lost in their curves and enjoyed every second of it.

But the men, they were so perfect, like works of art. Not a single noble at Springport court pulled off opulent outfits like these without mockery. These men were proud, poised. Ysac and Sir Otho, and honestly, even Sir Sym looked appetizing to me—

Goodness, what was wrong with me?

"Is this guy invading us?" Otho's gaze—an ethereal blue, I noticed from afar—hit me hard in the face, destabilizing me. "No, I agree with you, I don't think he is. You came to tell us something was off, negatively impacting you. This was it, I presume? So? Were you mistaken? Or is there something or someone else?" He raised his burly shoulders. "What does this mean?"

Arden returned to Ysac and I, shaking their head. "Would that I knew."

Otho opened his mouth to retort, but Sym shimmied over to him, silencing him with one look. "Not the time for arguments, friends." He climbed the podium, but remained near Sir Otho, as if to block him were he to attempt something. "Ysac."

"Your Grace?" Ysac, who'd remained quiet until then, straightened up beside me.

"Where's Jack?" Sir Sym folded his arms, scowling. "You were meeting with him, then bringing him to us to discuss your mission, weren't you?"

Ysac tensed. "There's been an..." He swallowed. "A slight incident."

"Incident?" Arden slithered closer to us.

"That ornate mirror in the indoor garden," Ysac waved vaguely at the doors behind us, "it's...it...well, Jack slipped through it. It rippled, and he was curious, so he advanced, leaned in...and next I knew, Jack was gone, and Teodric flew through the glass and landed at my feet."

All eyes were on me. I rolled my shoulders and poked my torso out, then remembered I wore oversized night-wear and a stained night-robe. Ysac told them I'd infiltrated their realm via a mirror, and here I was in my pajamas looking nothing near as menacing as he'd made me out to be.

They'd laugh. The decadent Lady Ossenna, the mysterious Arden, the golden Sir Sym, the drop-dead gorgeous Sir Otho—they'd burst into tears from guffawing so hard. Any minute now.

"So Teodric...switched places with Jack?" Sir Sym's brilliant sleeves dangled down to his thighs as he pressed his arms harder against his rib-cage.

"It would appear so, Your Grace." Ysac wiped off some dirt from his breeches, focusing his gaze on the ground. "And I have no clue how to get Jack back."

"We will have to investigate that mirror," said Arden, swiveling around to glide to their throne. They sat and puffed out a breath that whipped up their mask, but not enough to glimpse the face underneath.

Lady Ossenna flurried to her shiny and sharp seat. Something told me she wasn't normally this quiet. Everything about her clothes and make-up screamed exuberance and outspokenness, yet she'd said next to nothing to me. Had my arrival frightened her? Had she caught me ogling her associates while holding in my drool, and was offended by it?

"Well, then..." Sir Sym alighted from the dais, clasping his hands behind his back. He peeked at Ysac, then approached me, with a flicker of caution in his cat-like eyes. "I can see only one solution, while we figure out how to retrieve Jack."

I batted my lashes, sensing my jaw drooping. Why did I get the feeling he was about to do or say something drastic?

"Prince Teodric, since your arrival has stripped Ysac of his escort for the mission he was assigned...then you will take Jack's place and perform his tasks."

Oh, it was worse than I'd expected. "M-me?" I jabbed a thumb into my chest. "But I—"

"—you must," he said, holding out his palm to quiet me. "I expect Jack will fill in for you, in your world, so it's on you to do the same for him. Balance." He rubbed his chin. "Though he may panic. I hope he seeks the council of mages who can help him."

"Mages?" My breath caught in my throat and I coughed. "We have no mages, Sir Sym. There's no magic in Springport."

Lady Ossenna gasped, Sir Otho's nostrils wrinkled, and Sir Sym backed away, squinting at me like I'd claimed I was the ghost of a dead king here to haunt them all.

"None?" said Sir Sym, his tone trembling.

"That changes nothing, Sym," said Arden, sitting up straight, hands clasped in their lap. "These men have switched places, and we'll continue with our plans. I'm sure once we succeed, we can focus on a means for Jack's return. I agree that in the interim, Prince Teodric should carry out Jack's assignment."

"With me." Ysac's lips bunched sideways as he kicked at the ground. I couldn't determine if he was disappointed at the prospect of going on some magical mission with me, or...

Was he being shy? Did I intimidate the joyful, playful jester?

I was still too frantic and petrified by all that was happening and wouldn't let his enticing eyes pry me into another magical daze. I focused on the club symbol above Sir Sym's head. "And what was this assignment? Am I able to perform it? I have no magic."

Ossenna strode over, tiny diamonds glistening on her skin, twinkling in rhythm with her pantsuit. Where she'd been silently fierce, earlier, she was now awakened, her demeanor that of a queen, a powerful sorceress. Her pungent, glittering energy knocked me backwards a pace or two, but if she noticed, she didn't care.

"Jack had no powers either. He was a warrior. A guard. A missionary." She shook out her arms, letting her sleeves fall over her wrists. I noted a bracelet there similar to Sir Sym's, but with a diamond symbol on the band instead.

Sir Sym took over. "The assignment was to ride to all four locations where the princesses are holed up, and, by force if needed, drag them here for an ultimate vote, to restore Acewood to its rightful state. Jack was...the brute strength, if you will." He eyed me up and down, lips pursed. "So, I suppose that means you, dearest Teodric...are our new Jack. Our temporary Knave of Acewood."

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