by T. J. Klune
Inside was Good King Anthony of Verania and his son, the Grand Prince.
Both of whom did not look very impressed.
The King was a barrel-chested man with long flowing white hair that fell on his broad shoulders and a kickass mustache that I had to hear Gary wax poetically about at least once or twice a week. Granted, it wasn’t that much of a hardship, and if I’d met the King in another life, I’d probably have no problem in calling him Daddy.
Not that I told anyone that.
Ever.
Except for Gary and Tiggy, because let’s be honest, I told them everything.
Which, of course, meant they told the King. In the middle of him hosting a dinner with all his heads of state. To say the silence that followed was shocking would be an understatement. Morgan’s face had been in his hands, Justin had been disgusted, the King smiled widely, all while Ryan looked like he was conflicted about his duty to protect the King versus wanting to demand they fight for my honor right then and there. The sex had been really damn good that night. With Ryan. Not with the King. I couldn’t even look at the King without blushing for the six weeks that followed, especially when he would wink at me every time he saw me.
He wasn’t winking now, though.
“I don’t know why I have to get shoved in that blasted room like that,” he said, looking adorably irate. “I have a sword, Morgan. A sword. It’s very large, I’ll have you know. Many people think so.”
“I bet he does,” Gary whispered near my ear. “Probably takes two hands just to hold it up and everything.”
“It does seem like it’d be pretty big,” I mused.
“Mine’s bigger,” Ryan said with a frown. “I measured.”
Gary snickered as I patted Ryan on the shoulder. “Of course it is.”
Morgan sighed. “Anthony, we’ve been over this. As the King of Verania, you have one job when there are possible attempts on your life. You hide. The fact that you fought Darks in your own throne room was enough to send your court into a tizzy. The heads of state demanded you never again do such a thing. I know you can protect yourself and others, and so do they. But it doesn’t matter to the King’s Court.”
The King waved Morgan’s words away. “A bunch of ninnies,” he said. “Just because I have a crown doesn’t mean I can’t pick up a sword. Why, kings of old would lead their armies into battle, sleeping and eating and fighting alongside their soldiers.”
“We aren’t at war,” Morgan said.
“We’re at something. Why are the alarm bells ringing if we’re—”
The bells stopped ringing.
“Well,” the King said. “This is certainly awkward. Am I to assume this has been a false alarm?” He glanced over at Ryan. “Perhaps a training drill I wasn’t made aware of? Again?”
“My liege,” Ryan started, only to be interrupted when Gary sneezed a sound remarkably close to “Kiss-ass.”
I punched Gary in the throat. “Let him do his job,” I hissed at him.
“Oh please,” Gary said. “You just like it when he acts all Knight Commander-y. Forgive me if I don’t want to stand next to your power boner for the next ten minutes.”
I said, “I don’t get a power boner, what the hell,” even though it sounded like something I would get rather easily.
Ryan brought a closed fist to his chest and bowed low toward the King. “If the King wishes, I can provide a situation report immediately.”
“Oh my gods,” I said to Gary. “I get a boner for power.”
“Do you think he knows he’s not really whispering that?” Mom asked Dad. “Because it seems like he thinks he’s whispering.”
“I’m pretty sure he doesn’t know he does a lot of things he probably shouldn’t,” Dad said. “We’re not to blame for that at all. We’re wonderful parents.”
“Hi, Sam,” the King said, smiling broadly.
I waved. “Hey. Don’t mind me. I’m just standing over here with my uncomfortable realizations about certain kinks I have.”
“Sam a kinky bitch,” Tiggy said.
“Too right,” I said. “It’s moments like these that I try and—”
“Sam,” Ryan said in that tone of voice he got sometimes.
“Uh-oh,” I said to Gary. “He’s getting growly.”
“And his eyebrows are doing that thing,” Gary said.
“Well maybe if you would stop talking—”
“Me? I’m not the one here sporting half a chub because—”
“This is the future of the kingdom,” Justin said to the King. “This is seriously what you want to leave me with. I will go down in the annals of history and these people will be my legacy.”
“Heh,” Gary said. “He wants to go down in annals. Gross.”
“Don’t get it,” Tiggy said.
“That’s because my humor is sophisticated,” Gary said with a haughty sniff. “It plays to a higher crowd.”
“I think you’re doing a good job,” I whisper-shouted to Ryan, giving him a thumbs-up. “You give the best status reports out of anyone I’ve ever met.”
“You mean I’m trying to give a status report,” Ryan said. “But someone keeps interrupting me.”
“Rude,” I said to Gary. “Try to give a man a compliment after he gives you a probable black eye, and this is the thanks I get.”
“That’s what happens in all long-term relationships,” Gary said. “Face it, kitten. The magic is gone because you’ve let yourself go.”
“I did what now?” I said, wondering if the courts would believe my defense of justifiable homicide toward a magical creature.
He smiled sticky sweet. “Love you.”
Tiggy bent over until we were face to face, his nose nearly touching mine. “You look nice,” he decided after a moment.
“Thank you, Tiggy.”
“Maybe tired in your face.”
“You know nothing, you tall freak of nature!”
He patted me on the head with a big hand.
“You’re very lucky,” the King told Justin, reaching out and squeezing his shoulder. “Most people would kill to have this support behind them.”
“Can’t I just kill my support?” Justin asked. “It seems like it’d be easier. And I’d be happier about it.”
“He doesn’t mean that,” I told the King. “He respects us. Maybe even loves us a little.”
Justin glared at me.
“Begrudgingly,” I amended.
The glare lessened. Slightly. Probably not at all. “Why do I have a feeling that this little incident involved you somehow?”
“Because you leap to conclusions based upon past experiences which have no basis on our current situation?” I asked, hoping that would be the end of it.
“Uh-huh,” Justin said. “Knight Commander, report.”
“There was a woman,” Ryan said. “She… attacked Sam.”
“And there it is,” Justin said.
“Attacked,” Morgan said. “Attacked how?”
“Actually—” Mom said.
“I wasn’t attacked,” I said. “She was just… forceful in her conviction that she should be pressing me up against a wall.”
“She had her hand around your throat,” Ryan snapped. “And she spoke to you. She said that you couldn’t touch her. And then she disappeared and you collapsed.”
“Is that true?” the King asked, taking a step toward me. “Are you all right?”
“Maybe we should—” Dad said.
“Yeah,” I said. “Except for all the parts where he made it sound like I sucked. I had her. If she hadn’t done her little disappearing trick, everything would have been fine.”
“Yeah, okay,” Ryan said. “What about the part where you thought you were in the Dark Woods with a white dragon?”
“I haven’t quite figured that out yet,” I admitted, though it pained me to do so. “But I will. I just need to think about it. So thank you for spilling the beans like that. You jerk.”
Ryan shook his head. �
��You didn’t see it, okay? One minute she was there and the next she was gone and you just collapsed. I thought she’d—” His jaw tensed as he swallowed thickly. “You didn’t see what I saw.”
Godsdammit. Leave it to Knight Delicious Face to get sentimental while I was trying to get fired up. Any argument that I had left as quickly as it’d come.
“I think we might know—” Mom said.
“I’m sorry,” I said to Ryan. “I didn’t… I just…. Dammit. I’m sorry, okay?”
He nodded but wouldn’t look at me.
“What they talkin’ ’bout?” Tiggy asked Gary.
“Their feelings,” Gary said, sounding teary-eyed. “Their awful and wonderful feelings. Stupid, stupid boys. Hug me, Tiggy, and never let me go.”
Tiggy did just that.
“Stupid is right,” Justin muttered. “Gods, this is painful. Glad I got out of that while I still could.”
“Did she hurt you?” the King asked, checking me up and down.
I pushed his hands away. “I’m fine. It was just… look. I don’t know what she wanted or who she is, but we’ll find her, okay? Anything else we can deal with after we know where she is.”
The King didn’t look appeased by this.
There was one person who’d been remarkably silent, especially since I should have heard a be quiet, Sam by now. I turned to Morgan, ready to be scolded for actively derailing the conversation yet again. Anything I was about to say died in my mouth as Morgan stood with his eyes closed, taking deep, slow breaths. His hands were fists at his sides, and he looked paler than I’d ever seen him before. I frowned as I took a step toward him. “Morgan?”
He opened his eyes, and there was something there, something I couldn’t quite make out. It looked painful, whatever it was, like the thoughts in his head were physically hurting him. It was gone before I could nail it down. But his words were hushed when he spoke. “What did she say to you?”
The room fell quiet.
This wasn’t my friend speaking. This was Morgan of Shadows, my mentor.
I thought on it, wanting to get as close as possible. “Sneaking with your sneaks. Dilo. And here of all places. Like your dook could touch me, chava. She said that we weren’t what she expected, and that it was a good thing. And that she was sorry for what was to come.”
He surprised me then, by turning toward my parents. “Is it she?”
My mother’s shoulders sagged as my father wrapped an arm around her. “It would seem so.”
“We didn’t know,” Dad said. “She hasn’t… contacted us. Not since….”
“Uh, guys?”
They all turned to look at me.
“What are you talking about?”
My mother sighed. “Dilo means fool. Dook is magic. Chava means boy. It’s from the old tongue.”
“Gypsies,” I breathed. “You—you know who it is?”
She opened her mouth, then closed it, like she couldn’t find the words. She glanced at my father, who gave her a resigned nod. She looked back at me and said, “Vadoma Tshilaba. Mamia.”
A memory then. From the day in the alley so very long ago:
And you, dearie? Surely you haven’t always been Rosemary Haversford.
It is a name I adopted when I chose to leave the clan and marry my love. I was born Dika Tshilaba.
Ah. I see. Your mamia was Vadoma, then.
Yes, my lord. You’ve heard of her?
Perhaps.
“Mamia,” I said faintly.
“Yes,” Mom said. “The elder of my clan. The phuro. My… mother. Your grandmother, Sam. She’s finally come for—”
The door to the offices burst open. Ryan whirled around, pulling his sword, but it was just Pete, who only had eyes for the King. “Word has been sent from the gates,” he said, sounding rather breathless. “There are gypsies here, requesting an audience with the King and his wizard. And they asked for Sam specifically.”
Well shit.
Chapter 4: The Wolf of Bari Lavuta
WHEN ONE’S long-lost grandmother pops out of the blue demanding an audience after essentially assaulting one in front of one’s boyfriend before sending one on a mind-bending trip to face a dragon believed to be only legend, it’s probably understandable if one is slightly wary at the prospect.
The problem with that?
One has really stupid friends.
“A real live gypsy,” Gary said as we made our way down to the throne room. “Can you imagine it? Oh my gods, what will she be wearing? What will I wear? I’m not even ready for this right now. Sam, Sam. Look at me. You look at me right now!”
I looked at him.
His eyes were wide as he leaned in close, breathing right onto my face. I almost went cross-eyed. “Do I have your attention?”
“Yes, Gary.”
“Good. Now, should I pose like this when I meet the queen of the gypsies?” He froze in the middle of the hallway, nostrils flaring, chest puffed out, one leg up off the floor and bent, a ridiculous smile stretched across his face. He looked like a manic unicorn clown on mushrooms. “Or like this?” He flipped his head back, shaking his mane, the white hair dyed with red stripes because didn’t I know that crimson was in this season, was I a charlatan, honestly, Sam, you are just a living, breathing tragedy. His eyelashes fluttered, and there was a hint of sparkles in the air, shimmering ever so lightly around him.
I stared at him.
“Bah,” he said. “I don’t even know why I ask you. Gods only know that you wouldn’t have even landed yourself a man if it hadn’t been for me. You used to dress like a freshly outed lesbian, not that there’s anything wrong with being a lesbian. I love lesbians because they get me. We are kindred spirits. You, however, are useless to me! Useless! Tiggy, oh Tiggy darling. I need your assistance. You must tell me how I should stand when I meet the queen of the gypsies.” And he was off again, that whirlwind of sass and sparkles that I loved so much I couldn’t even muster up the strength to strangle.
“What’s this all about, you think?” Ryan muttered next to me.
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “She…. I’ve never met her.”
“But she’s your grandmother?”
“Right.”
“So why wouldn’t you have seen her?”
“Because my mother fell in love with my father.”
Ryan frowned. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“It’s part of their culture,” I said. “Gypsies are betrothed to gypsies. Loving someone outside of that is frowned upon. My mother was given a choice. She could renounce my father and marry her intended or love him and be shunned from her clan.”
“And she chose your father,” Ryan said, looking up at my parents, who walked in front of us. Dad’s arm was around her waist, holding her close as he whispered in her ear. Her shoulders were tense, but she was nodding to whatever Dad was saying to her.
“She loved him,” I said with a shrug. “She’s told me that she couldn’t imagine a world without him in it. That even though the choice meant losing part of herself, she would rather that than lose him.”
“I know the feeling,” he said, then immediately blushed.
I stopped. He made it another step or two before he turned back around to see me gaping at him. The flush crawled its way up his neck, splotching his cheeks.
“You do?” I managed to say.
He reached up and scratched the back of his neck, gaze darting everywhere but me. “I, uh. Okay, so, the thing is—”
“Sam? Ryan? What’s the holdup?”
My eyes were wide when I turned to Morgan, who was waiting for us at the end of the hall. He must have seen something on my face because he sighed that sigh usually reserved for me. “Now? Really?”
“I am about to have so many feelings,” I told him. “And I will probably kiss my boyfriend so much that it looks like I’m eating his face. Unless you want to stay and watch that, you should leave right now. Unless you do want to stay and watch. Then we’ll n
eed to have a conversation about boundaries. Really, Morgan. Learn some propriety—”
“Five minutes,” he said. “If you’re not in the throne room in five minutes, I will send you to Randall tomorrow and make Ryan stay here.”
“But… but feelings.”
“Five minutes, Sam of Wilds.”
And he was gone around the corner.
Since I didn’t want to scar some unsuspecting maid with some good old-fashioned homoerotic face sucking, I grabbed Ryan by the hand and pulled him toward the nearest door I could find. I opened it, shoved him inside, followed him in, and closed the door behind us.
It was a broom closet.
A small dark broom closet that smelled like feet and floor cleaner.
It was perfect.
“So,” I said. “Hi.”
“Hi, Sam,” he said, sounding amused.
“Okay, enough foreplay. Explain.”
“Enough foreplay? We haven’t even done any—”
“Ryan Foxheart, I swear to the gods if you don’t explain right now, I’ll do… something… terrible, okay I don’t even know what the hell is wrong with me. Oh my gods, explain.”
I felt more than saw his hands come to mine, squeezing my fingers. I could barely make out his features in the dark, and he licked his lips nervously. “It’s just….”
I waited.
“It’s just….”
I was done waiting. “It’s just hard for you to form even the simplest of words at a crucial moment?”
He scowled at me. “Give me a minute.”
“We only have four now. Morgan will banish me to Castle Freeze Your Ass Off. With Randall. Without you. What would I do without you?”
He started to smile. “Ah, that’s so—”
“I mean, there are a billion things I could do without you, but still.”
“—like you,” he said. He shook his head. “Look, Sam. It’s just… you know how important being a knight is to me.”
I nodded, because I did. For the longest time, it’d been the most important thing to him, something he’d been working toward for years.
“And the oath I made,” he said. “It was… everything. For a long time.” As it should have been. Because an oath to a knight is the promise of their life for another’s.
