by T. J. Klune
I opened my mouth to respond and everything came to a screeching halt when I realized that Gary had no fucking idea what Ryan was to me. I had never told him. I had never sat him down (as much as a unicorn can sit down) and said, “Oh, by the way, Ryan is my cornerstone and I can’t have him so we’re running away under the guise of needing to learn more control. Even though that’s sort of true because I can do things no other wizard can.”
Gary would be pissed at me for neglecting to share such important information. A pissed-off unicorn was something I didn’t want to deal with right then (or ever), and I reminded myself it didn’t matter in the long run anyway. Only Morgan and the King knew of what he was to me, and I was going to keep it that way. Either we’d go our separate ways eventually and Ryan would get married, or we’d get eaten by a dragon and the whole point would be moot. Funny how okay I was with impending death rather than telling my best friend I wanted to magically bond all over Ryan’s face. Or whatever.
“We’re fine,” I said. “I think. He was being an ass. I was being an ass. He apologized and I said okay and now we’re here.”
“Cool story, bro,” Gary said. “Now tell me the real version.”
I sighed. “He thought I took Justin out to the sparring fields, not the other way around. He accused me of being reckless and not giving a shit, and I overreacted because that’s what I do. He found out otherwise from the King, felt super bad, said sorry, and now we’re here.”
“What a dick,” Gary muttered and I immediately felt better, because that’s what best friends do. “Maybe we should have left him with Dimitri.”
“Right? And then I think he was mad when he found out how long we were leaving for. He acted weird after he heard me tell you it was going to be six months before we got back.”
Gary sighed. “I’m not even going to touch that one.”
“What?” I asked. “You think he’s mad we’re going to miss the wedding? I’ll be honest, I’m pretty sure I don’t want to be there. Even though I should be.”
“Yes,” Gary said. “That’s exactly why he’s pissed. Good job.”
“Whatever,” I groused. “I don’t even care.”
“Obviously. The level with which you do not care is astounding. It almost eclipses your awareness.”
“I don’t even know what you’re talking about!”
“Shocking.”
“You are a terrible best friend.”
“Bullshit. I am your everything.”
“How sad is that?” I sighed.
“Shush. Do you have enough wood?”
I leered at him. “I never have enough—”
“Gross,” he said. “Don’t do that. It’s rapey. How are you ever going to land a man if you’re rapey?”
“I can just marry Dimitri,” I said, starting to lead us back toward camp. “He has a size kink for me. And remember, apparently he has a tongue that I just wouldn’t believe.”
“Can you imagine? He’d have to be full-body hugging your penis just to jack you off.”
“I really wish you hadn’t said that. Now I can’t stop thinking about it.”
“Don’t marry Dimitri,” he said. “You’re not meant to be a fairy queen. Not in the literal sense, anyway.”
“I don’t think that’s going to be a problem. I have a size kink too. Human size.”
“Ryan size,” he corrected.
“Remember when he would come within thirty feet of me and I would run away? Those were the good old days. Now I’m chasing dragons and getting blue balls.”
“Aww,” Gary said. “Do you need to go masturbate in the woods?”
“No.”
“I’ll cover for you. Go masturbate in the woods.”
“Gary.”
“Just a little. Just pull on it a little bit.”
“Gary.”
He sighed. “Chin up, kitten. We’ll get through this just like everyone else does. You’re not the first one to be stuck in a crapshoot. Pretty soon, you’ll look back on all this and wonder what all the fuss was about and say Ryan who? And then you’ll—holy mother of crap cakes in a shit storm, you will never get over him because of the sheer magnitude of all his perfections.”
I was feeling good about myself up until that last part. I turned to scowl at Gary, but his eyes were wide and staring over toward the river. I followed his gaze.
And.
Just.
Stopped.
There are moments in your life so profound, so extraordinarily crystal clear that even the remembrance of them is enough to feel like you’re being consumed by fire. Moments that might not mean much to anyone else, but mean the world to you.
I had these moments.
I was five and my mother was dancing to a song only she could hear.
I was seven and my father put his arm around my shoulders while we watched the sunset and waited for the stars to come out.
I was nine and I wished for something more.
I was eleven and Morgan held my hand for the first time.
I was fourteen when I stumbled upon a hornless unicorn and a crying half-giant.
I was fifteen when Pete whispered that his name was Ryan and he was to be a knight.
I was seventeen when I brought a bird back to life and I never told anyone about it.
I was eighteen when my mother cried and said I would always be her little boy.
I was twenty when Ryan stood at my side and my magic said finally.
And now. Now.
Now was Knight Commander Ryan Foxheart climbing slowly out of the river, water cascading down his body, dripping over miles and miles of muscle. He wore nothing but a thin, white undergarment that stuck and clung to his groin and thighs. He reached down, the muscles in his back flexing as he scooped up water in his hands and brought it up and over his head. His nipples were pebbled. His chest was covered in a smattering of wet hair. He was lines and corded muscle, definition and carved from stone. If I had let my eyes linger, I would have sworn I could see the outline of his cock through the wet fabric. My skin felt tight and flushed and I wanted. There was green and gold, and it was so fucking bright that I almost had to shut my eyes from the weight of it.
“I swear he’s doing this on purpose,” Gary whispered hotly.
“I swear I want to do him on purpose,” I breathed.
Gary choked and I didn’t care.
I would never have him. I knew this. It wasn’t meant to be.
But that didn’t mean I couldn’t be creepy and have this one fucking moment where I could pretend and wish and hope and dream and yes, now I had an erection and it was fucking awful.
“Do you see his stomach?” Gary murmured.
Of course I had. The thin line of hair that disappeared to his groin. The cut of the abdominals. Which were wet. Very, very wet. “I want to be the river,” I told Gary, sounding slightly hysterical. “I want to be the river right at this very moment.”
“Why is the sun setting so perfectly behind him?”
“Because the gods want to grace his shoulders with the fading light.”
“I want to grace his shoulders with my—”
I’ll never know what dirty thing Gary wanted to grace Ryan’s shoulders with. And I was totally okay with that. I was not okay with why I would never know.
“What you guys doing?” Tiggy said. Very, very loudly.
And the creepy voyeuristic bathing fantasy came to a grinding halt.
Ryan looked up.
Gary and I froze.
Tiggy cocked his head and waved.
“You okay, Sam?” Ryan asked, and his voice was husky.
So I blurted out, “I’ve got wood.”
Gary turned his head slowly to gape at me.
“Oh dear gods,” I muttered. Then louder, “Wood. I brought the wood. I’ve got so much wood. Wood. Fuck. Firewood. I’ve got firewood. For the fire. Because it’s going to get nipples out tonight. Cold. It’s going to get cold out tonight. Sweet molasses.” I bent down
to pick up the firewood and stumbled, almost falling flat on my face. “Ha, ha!” I cried. “Whoops. I’m okay. Don’t mind me. Just feeling a bit weak in the knees. But not because of anything that’s happening right in front of me like thighs! No, sir. I’ve just got bad knees. But you don’t, do you? You’ve got… knees. Like. Knees. And I’ve got firewood. For the fire.” I bent down to pick up the wood, willing myself to just shut up, shut up! “Well. This has been erotic. Enlightening. Gods, this is enlightening. Like eye-opening. Nothing else!” I stood up, holding the firewood to my chest like it was supposed to block me from the glory that was Ryan Foxheart. “Oh my gods,” I whispered fervently. “I’m a Foxy Lady.”
“You’re a what?” Gary screeched.
“Nothing!” I shouted at him. “Nothing! No funny stuff. I am bringing wood for the fire and now you’re getting out of the river and why are you walking in slow motion? That’s… that’s just swell. Hell. That’s hell on, on, on your feet. Because of the river rocks.” And Ryan was smiling at me. Like I was amusing. “You’re so wet,” I told him unnecessarily.
He nodded as he stood on the riverbank. Then, never taking his eyes from me, he clasped his hands above his head and stretched his back. I immediately turned to Gary and whispered that I had a newfound fetish for armpits that I was just discovering and was quite unsure what to do with. Gary in turn said that they were obviously made for licking and I dropped the firewood again.
“Water feels good,” Ryan said. “Not too cold.”
“That’s wonderful,” I told him. “Just wonderful. I am so glad we’re both here and talking like we are right now.”
He grinned at me before turning around and bending over to pick up his discarded clothes.
“Dat. Ass,” Gary and I said at the same time.
Because it was a nice ass. Better than nice. It was a splendid ass. Superb, even.
“Bite it,” Gary whispered, pushing his head against my back. “For fuck’s sake, go bite it.”
“My mouth is not worthy,” I said.
“What was that?” Ryan asked, standing back up and looking over his shoulder. His awesome, awesome shoulder.
Gary said, “Sam wants to bite—”
“Some food,” I said, cutting in quickly. “I want to bite some food because I’m so hungry right now. And you should put on clothes.”
He looked down at himself, then back up at me. “Why? It’s just us out here.”
“And no one can hear you scream,” Gary supplied helpfully.
“We having naked time?” Tiggy asked as he started reaching for the ties on his pants.
“No!” I said. “No naked time. There is absolutely no need for naked time. In fact, we should put on all the clothes that we brought to be the opposite of naked.”
“I’m always naked,” Gary purred to Ryan. “And you’ll have to forgive Sam. He’s a little bit… frustrated. I told him he should just go into the woods and mastur—”
“Masticate,” I exclaimed. “He wanted me to go and chew food in the woods, but I said, ‘Why? Why do that? We can just masticate here. At the camp. With ourselves. Because that’s what normal people do.’”
“Riiiight,” Gary said. “Maybe you and Ryan can masticate together?”
“Or not,” I said as I ground my teeth. “I like to masticate by myself.”
“And you’re so good at it,” Gary said. “The up and down motions of your… jaw. And then, upon completion, you swallow. Right, Sam? You swallow, don’t you?”
“Of course I do,” I said, confused. What the hell were we talking about now? “I always swallow when I finish. What am I supposed to do? Spit it back out?”
Ryan tripped and fell back into the river.
We all stared at him.
He sputtered as he came out of the water. “Tripped.” He coughed. “On a rock.”
“Or something that rhymes with rock,” Gary said.
“You tripped on your sock?” I asked him.
Gary said, “I just don’t even know why I bother anymore. Tiggy, darling. Let’s let the mens take care of dinner. You and I can have naked time and frolic in the river now. Lose the britches. It’s time to make the humans feel inadequate.”
Tiggy crowed his pleasure as he dropped his pants.
I looked down and whispered to my penis, “It’s okay. I don’t think you’re inadequate. You’re special in your own way. Except when you betray me. Like right now.” Because Ryan was climbing out of the water again and I hated everyone and everything.
Sighing, I picked up the firewood and turned away.
CHAPTER 14
The Ballad of Sam, Gary, and Tiggy
I LAY on my back looking up at the stars, listening to Gary and Tiggy snore. Gary would adamantly deny this, saying a lady of his stature would never snore, but he was a liar and a fat mouth and his snoring sounded like an orgy involving otters and bears.
The fire was getting low, but the night was warm and the sky was clear and so I wished for things in my secret heart, waiting for sleep to take me away.
“You watch the stars a lot,” Ryan said from somewhere off to my left. He was on first watch but hadn’t spoken in a while.
“I guess,” I said.
“Why?”
“They don’t change,” I said, even though I hadn’t meant to. “Everything else around me can change, but they won’t ever. And it doesn’t matter where I am in the world, I can look up and see the same sky.”
“Everything always changes,” he said quietly. “And you wake up one day and don’t recognize the life you had before you went to sleep.”
I didn’t know quite what to say to that, so I said nothing at all.
Nothing happened for a few moments, but then he was up and moving from the other side of the fire, dragging his bedroll closer to me. I didn’t say anything as he spread it perpendicular to me, his head near mine. He lay back down and I tried to remember how to breathe.
“I can protect you easier if I’m closer,” he said.
“Because I need you to protect me. Obviously.” I refused to look over at him and instead looked back up at the night sky.
“I didn’t mean to avoid you.”
I rolled my eyes. “So you admit to the avoiding.”
“Possibly.”
“Were you aware of it?”
“Yes.”
“Then you meant to do it.”
I could hear the scowl in his voice. “Not specifically.”
“So, no specific avoidance, but a vague avoidance.”
“Talking to you is impossible sometimes.”
“I’m a wizard.”
“You say that a lot.”
“It’s a fact.”
“It sounds like an excuse sometimes.”
“Says the Knight Commander.”
Gary chose at that moment to snort in his sleep quite loudly, shooting a puff of green and lavender sparkles out his nose. He resumed snoring annoyingly like the princess unicorn he was. Tiggy tugged him tighter against his chest in his sleep.
“How did you meet them?” Ryan asked. “There are at least thirty different versions of the story.”
“What?”
He shrugged. The fire popped. An owl called out from the Dark Woods. “People talk about you.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re you.”
“That’s… succinct. And frightening.”
“It’s a reason,” he said. “Trust me on that.”
“Okay, then.”
“So?”
I sighed. “Gary tells it better. Certainly with more… flair. He calls it the ‘Ballad of Sam, Gary, and Tiggy.’ There’s singing involved. And rhyming. Possibly a choreographed dance, depending on his mood. It’s really quite the production. And now that I think about it, that’s probably why there are thirty different versions of the story. He tends to change things up upon repeat performances. Doesn’t want to let down his fans.” Gods, I loved that fucking unicorn.
“I’d ra
ther hear the Sam version,” Ryan said and I couldn’t take it anymore. I looked over at him and found him watching me, head turned back at an almost awkward angle. The firelight danced across his face and I thought I’d never seen anything more beautiful. My magic felt so settled in my skin that I thought that I could do anything.
So I said, “Okay. Okay. There was once a strange and somewhat lonely boy….”
THERE WAS once a strange and somewhat lonely boy. He had wished upon the stars above and found them listening because one day, a man came to the slums and took him away to a castle. His parents came too, and they were amazed and awed at what life would be like for them.
And he worked. The strange and somewhat lonely boy worked as hard as he could, because Morgan expected great things from him. The boy wanted nothing more than to make Morgan happy and make his parents proud.
That left little time for anything else. Between schooling and magic and lessons in proper etiquette, the boy wasn’t able to make many friends. True, he didn’t have friends in the slums to begin with (because he was odd and mouthy and fiery and that combination made him an outcast), but he’d hoped things would be different.
There was a prince for whom he would one day serve, and while he was only a few years older, the Prince had little time for the peculiarity from the slums.
And the boy was okay with that. Mostly.
He was fourteen when the wizard Morgan of Shadows came to him with a great task.
He said, “You must go into the wilds of the Dark Woods and within three days bring back something unexpected.”
“Unexpected?” the boy asked with wide eyes. “Is this a test?”
And the great wizard said with a smile, “Yes, little one. It is a test. And I have great faith in you.”
That made the little boy feel warm and more than a little happy, because not many people had had faith in him. His parents, yes, but who else? He had no friends to miss him in the slums, no people to mourn his departure. But here! Here he had a man who was almost a legend telling him about faith, and the boy thought that if it were possible, he would bring the man the sun and the moon just to show how much his words meant.
It was also the first time he would be going out on his own. It showed that the wizard had trust in his apprentice, trust that he could perform the task set before him. Was he scared? Sure. He was fourteen years old. He was scrawny. His voice still tended to crack. He was confused why sometimes a handsome boy smiling meant something more than a pretty girl.
