by TJ Klune
“Yes, well,” Randall said. “You learned quickly that I was always right and that you should do whatever I say. By a combination of dumb luck and sheer stupidity, your protégé has somehow found himself alive without learning anything at all. It would be rather remarkable if it wasn’t so maddening.”
“Why didn’t anyone tell me about teleportation?” I demanded. “Do you know how much easier things would have been going after Justin? Or any time I’ve been captured?”
“I didn’t tell you because you won’t be able to do it,” Randall said. “Only I can. It takes a discipline that you can’t even begin to understand. Also, I’m old and it’s easier. You’re young and stupid, so it’s your own fault you get captured. It’s best to let you stew on it so you can hopefully learn from your mistakes. Hasn’t happened yet, though I’ve still got some hope.”
“He’s got a point,” Morgan said.
“Victim-blaming,” I accused them.
Randall ignored me. “Knight Commander Foxheart, I see you haven’t yet escaped the mindless babble. I’m still not convinced that you weren’t coerced into this somehow.”
“Yes, sir,” Ryan said, tripping over his words. “I mean, no, sir. I mean, I don’t know what to say to that, sir.”
“You’re supposed to be on my side,” I hissed at him.
“I am,” he said. “But that’s Randall. Do you know what he could do to me?”
“Ah,” Randall said. “Fear. What a beautiful motivator. But enough of this. Where is Vadoma? We might as well get this over and done with. I’m sure Sam is going to do that thing where he gets really loud sooner rather than later, and I’d like to not be here for that part if at all possible.”
“She’s under the watch of the Castle Guard,” Ryan said. “Along with that… that man.”
Randall arched one of the eyebrows that was eating his face. “I take it we’re not a fan of that man, whoever he may be.”
“He’s the Wolf to the phuro,” Morgan said, sounding resigned. “And she brought him here to become Sam’s cornerstone.”
Randall cackled. “Oh, the look that must have been on his face. What I would have given to see that.”
“I’m glad you find this all so amusing,” I said, grinding my teeth together. “Seeing as how a woman I’ve never met came out of nowhere to tell me I had to break up with Ryan and do what she said. And only to find out that you both knew about this. Don’t even get me started on the fact that she thinks I’m going to do anything with Ruv. I don’t care how good he looks without his shirt on or how bendy he seems to be. It doesn’t matter if that shit is erotic, or that he has dusky nipples, or—”
“I think we get it,” Ryan snapped. “And dusky nipples? My nipples are like—”
“Hush, babe,” I said. “I’m talking. Also, your nipples are wonderful and I am merely just trying to make a point.”
“Which is?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest and flexing unfairly.
My mouth dried a little. “Holy biceps,” I whispered feverishly.
Ryan might have looked rather smug at that.
I shook my head, trying to rid myself of the image of licking Ryan’s biceps. I could do that later. “It’s not even about him. I don’t care if he has the potential to be a cornerstone. Morgan told me there could be more than one a long time ago, but I’ve already made my choice. Nothing you or she or anyone else could say will change my mind on that. I don’t care what sort of deal you made with her. It’s not happening. Not now. Not ever.”
Ryan’s hand found my own, palm to palm, fingers entwined. He gave a gentle squeeze, and I did the same right back.
“I told you, Sam,” Morgan said. “I didn’t make a deal with her. Not over this.”
“Then why is she so—”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Randall said. “Just tell him. Or I could. I probably wouldn’t sugarcoat it like you’re going to. We don’t agree on much, but even I can see the boy is tenacious. The gods only know why you insist on coddling the boy. I never did that for you.”
Ah, and there it was again. Yet another reference to Randall as Morgan’s mentor that they would probably tell me jack shit about. Much of Randall’s past was shrouded in secret. At first I thought it was because he was at a level of magic my tiny little brain couldn’t understand. But as I grew older, I came to realize it was just because he was a dick. There were stories told, of the madness of a king brought back to sanity by Randall’s force of will and of his cornerstone, Myrin, who had been hidden in shadow. Myrin, who had built up Randall’s magic to allow it to be where it was today.
I had so many questions about this, but now wasn’t the time. “You knew me,” I said. I was tired, exhausted really, and it was evident in my voice. “Before the day in the alley. Both of you.”
“Yes,” Morgan said simply.
“Because of her. Vadoma.”
“Yes.”
I looked back and forth between them, using Ryan’s hand as an anchor. “Was any of this real, then? Or was everything that’s happened to me, everything that has made me who I am… was it all planned from the start?”
There was a pained look on Morgan’s face. “Sam, everything that you’ve been through, the lessons you’ve learned, both on your own and taught to you, have been real. I swear to you on all that I have.”
“The paths we take are divergent,” Randall said without his usual ire. “The choices we make cause them to splinter off in different directions. No one could have foreseen you becoming exactly the person you are today. It doesn’t work like that. And Morgan’s right. You have always had free will, Sam. You’ve been guided, but not controlled.”
“Then what is this?” I asked. “What is all of this?”
“Gypsies have magic,” Morgan said. “But it’s different than what you or I know. The rules that govern the wizarding world do not apply to them. They can do things we cannot. The same can be said about us against them. They don’t deal in the physical magic, but esoteric. Mystical. It’s a—”
“Bunch of horse crap, if you ask me,” Randall grunted. “Reading tea leaves and bones and wailing up at the heavens in front of a bonfire to show them the future.”
“It felt real when she had me pressed up against a wall,” I said.
Randall waved me off. “Sleight of hand. A distraction. Hardly civilized. I could stand outside under the stars and spout a hundred different predictions about the future and have the same success as the gypsies. The difference being I know it’s a crock. The fact remains, most of it never ends up coming true. And even if it does, it’s only because it was inevitable.”
“Except me,” I said.
“Except you,” Morgan agreed. “But then, you have always been the exception. She came to me shortly before your birth under the cover of darkness. I was on the road between here and Meridian City, returning to the castle. I hadn’t stopped, because I could see the lights of the City of Lockes, and I wanted to be home. I was alone on the road until I wasn’t. She told me her name was Vadoma, that she hailed from the desert, and she had a message for me.”
“And what was the message?” I asked slowly.
“That a boy would be born to one who was banished from her clan to live in poverty in a city at the seat of power. The banished one made a choice between the love of a man and the love of her people and suffered the consequences. And in her suffering, the boy would be born who would bring great change upon the world and rise against a tide of darkness that rose in opposition.”
And that… was pretty fucking stupid. “Seriously,” I said. “That’s what she said.”
“Yes,” Morgan said.
“Okay, but. Like. That was so vague.”
“Right?” Randall said. “Horse crap. Of course, after she got done with her hippy-dippy bullshit, she flat-out told Morgan that her daughter was pregnant and she thought the demon spawn was going to have some kind of magic. Her words, not mine, so you get that look off your face. You look like your huf
fing glue again.”
“That was one time! I was eleven.”
“Drugs are bad,” Ryan said.
“Thank you for that contribution,” I said. “You are the light of my life.”
“Even though that was said sarcastically, it’s true,” Ryan said, and I fought hard not to swoon. Because fuck yeah, that was true.
“So she told you about an awesome kid being born—”
Randall coughed.
“A magical prodigy being born—”
Randall sneezed.
I glared at him. “A demon spawn being born—”
Randall smiled.
“—and you just bought whatever she had to say?”
“Of course not,” Morgan said.
“Pretty much,” Randall said.
“Pretty much,” Morgan agreed. “To be fair, she was very convincing. Gypsies usually are with their outfits and wrist bangles. And even if that wasn’t the case, Vadoma was well known for her predictions. People travel far and wide to have her read them.”
“She also charges them for everything they’re worth,” Randall said. “And then tells them anything they want to hear. It’s a scam, if you ask me.”
“She’s a fortune-teller?” I gasped. I couldn’t think of anything worse than fortune-tellers. Most of it was bullshit, their little stands set up in festivals behind velvety purple curtains, peering into their crystal balls or reading lines on palms and gasping over just how amazing things were going to be. They weren’t really prevalent in the City of Lockes outside of celebrations. But there was one on practically every corner in Meridian City, the signs in the windows promising to TELL YOUR FUTURE!! CHEAP!!!!!!! “But—but that’s terrible.”
“If you think about it,” Randall said, “it’s hardly surprising that would be your background.”
“Hey! That was surprisingly effective in breaking me down emotionally. Nice job. Also, you bastard.”
Randall looked rather pleased with himself.
“What does Ruv have to do with any of this?” Ryan asked. “Because I really feel that we should be talking about him more. Like, what kind of a name is Ruv? And how I’m obviously more muscular than he is, as everyone can probably tell. Also, does he not know how to put on shoes? I know how to put on shoes.”
“And you do it very well,” I said, leaning over and kissing him on the cheek. “In fact, no one puts on shoes like you do.”
“Damn right,” he mumbled, blushing slightly under the praise.
“I assume it’s for the same reason she didn’t want your mother to marry your father,” Morgan said. “Gypsies don’t take to outsiders kindly, and as evidenced by their willingness to shun their loved ones, they like marriages outside of the clan even less. I imagine Ruv is meant to entice Sam back into the fold.”
“I’m not going into anyone’s folds except for Ryan’s,” I said.
“Yes!” Ryan said. Then, “Wait. What?”
“And so because a crazy woman came up to you in the middle of the night and put her fortune-teller nonsense all over you,” I said, “you agreed to exchange me for two goats and a pig when the time came. What the fuck, Morgan?”
“I don’t think that’s a fair exchange,” Randall said. “Too much goat for such a measly return.”
Morgan sighed. “I didn’t agree to anything, Sam.”
“She seems to think you did. For all we know, she’s going to try and enact some ancient gypsy law to try and claim I’m already betrothed to Ruv and must let him take me carnally under the light of the half-moon in a field of fireflies. I won’t do it, Morgan. I really won’t!”
“Is that true?” Ryan growled. “Is he going to be carnally taken surrounded by fireflies? You know Sam hates fireflies!”
“They’re literally bugs that glow,” I exclaimed. “Why does no one else see the problem here?”
“And I’m the only one that gets to carnally take anything from him,” Ryan said.
“You’re mostly a bottom, though,” I said thoughtfully. “So I suppose it’s mostly me carnally taking.”
Ryan choked and started stuttering.
“This is what you woke me up for?” Randall asked Morgan.
“If I have to deal with this, then so do you,” Morgan said.
“And all because Morgan agreed to this!” I said.
“I didn’t.”
I glared at him.
He stared right back.
“Fine,” I said, conceding. “I believe you. Mostly.”
He rolled his eyes. “How fortunate for us all.”
“But don’t think you’re off the hook yet for lying to me all this time,” I said, pointing my finger at him. “Because we’re gonna have some words. You can count on that.”
“I look forward to it with bated breath,” Morgan said, a smile twitching on his face.
“Good. So. Why is she here? Why now? And I will remind everyone in this room that no one is allowed to use the word destiny at any point. Ever. Or a euphemism for it either. Vocation. Calling. Purpose. None of it, because that’s stupid and I hate it, and you should all hate it too. If you persist, I won’t be held responsible for my actions.”
I didn’t miss the look exchanged between Morgan and Randall. Neither did Ryan, as he stiffened beside me. He was a warm line of comfort at my side, and even though our hands were slightly sweaty, there was no way I was going to let him go.
“There have been… whispers,” Morgan finally said.
“Whispers,” I repeated. “That’s what you’re going with.”
“My gods,” Randall said. “Remind me to give you more credit for everything, Morgan. I don’t know how you haven’t murdered him by now.”
“Rumors, mostly,” Morgan said. “Of a man. Superseding all ranks of the Darks.”
I was confused. “The Darks don’t have ranks,” I said. “Isn’t that kind of what makes them the Darks? They’re scattershot.”
“They seemed rather united in coming after you,” Randall pointed out. Which, okay. That was fair. But the ones that had were either vanquished or imprisoned, spread out all over Verania.
“Like Lartin, then?” I said. “Is that who he is?”
“We don’t know,” Morgan said. “No one does. Again, Sam, this could all be nothing.”
I watched him closely. “But you don’t think it’s nothing.”
“I think,” Morgan said slowly, “that Vadoma wouldn’t be here if she didn’t think it was important.”
“Do you trust her?”
“No,” Morgan said. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t believe her.”
“And why should we believe her?” Ryan asked. “Why should we be doing anything she wants us to do?”
“When she touched Sam,” Morgan said, “against the wall, he said he had a vision.”
“Did I?” I said, playing dumb.
“Of a white dragon. A great white dragon.”
Randall’s eyes widened slightly before he schooled his face. It was quick, barely there. But I caught it. It didn’t make me feel any better.
“Maybe,” I conceded.
“And then there’s Kevin. Who is also a dragon.”
“Kevin,” I snorted, trying to cover my unease. “If you could even call him that. He’s more like a perverted lizard with wings.”
“Be that as it may,” Randall said, “before you, no one could speak with dragons.”
“Dragon,” I said. I was slowly losing control of this conversation. I knew the dreaded D word was on the tip of someone’s tongue. “As in singular, not plural. Nothing else. And for all we know, it’s just a byproduct of my magic. Like you teleporting or Morgan’s eternal patience in having to deal with you.”
“You can’t know it’s just the one,” Randall said, ignoring my jibe completely. “Because you’ve never come face to face with the others.”
“The dragon in the desert,” Morgan said.
“The mated pair in the Northern Mountains,” Randall said.
“An
d the Great White in the Dark Woods,” Morgan said, “who you already seem to have made contact with.”
“Don’t you dare say it,” I ground out.
“Holy shit,” Ryan said, sounding breathless. “You have a Destiny of Dragons!”
“He capitalized it,” Randall said.
“It must be true now,” Morgan agreed.
Fuck my life.
Chapter 7: The Boner Carriage to Holy Fuck Me Town
TWO DAYS later, I’d still refused to come out of my room. The door was locked, a chair shoved up underneath the handle, and I was pretty sure I was leaking enough magic to create a barricade I didn’t even think about making on my own. All in all, it was very effective in keeping out the riffraff, which was essentially everyone I knew. It also meant I didn’t have to hear about any destiny of dragons (not capitalized, thank you very much!). It wasn’t the most mature way of dealing with things, but it was the only thing I could think of where I could avoid everyone and just focus.
The problem with trying to focus was that it was Gary and Tiggy’s turn to try and get me to come out. They traded out in shifts that usually lasted a few hours. Each had their own specific tactic. Randall said he would give me another day before he teleported inside my room nude. Morgan told me that he hadn’t even said the word, so I should just let him in. Mom and Dad laughed at me, then apologized for laughing, then laughed some more, reminiscing about how I used to lock myself in my room whenever I got mad at them, and how reassuring it was that I acted the same at twenty-one as I did when I was six. The King told me that I could stay in there as long as I needed to, but then in the next breath said that he would decide how long that should be, and if we disagreed, I’d be pooping in a bucket in the dungeons for at least a month. Justin would bitch that he didn’t even care if I ever came out, that I could stay in there forever as far as he was concerned, which touched me deeply, as it felt like we were brothers from different mothers. Kevin tried to fly up to the windows in my room, but I shuttered them all while he scolded me that no sexy son of his would treat him like that.
Ryan had been conspicuously absent. As had Vadoma and her Wolf.
