The Lightning-Struck Heart

by TJ Klune

  I pulled on the black trousers that showed off my ass. And apparently my balls, because they were that tight. I wondered just how many awkward conversations that would lead to.

  I wore the red jerkin Mom had suggested, cinching it tight at the waist. The sleeves clung to my shoulders and arms.

  I shined the fuck out of the boots.

  Needless to say, I looked like a high-end prostitute when I was summoned from my room.

  “I would let you stay the night and then have you for breakfast,” Gary said.

  “That is… strangely nice,” I admitted. “Thank you. I would also have you for breakfast as well.”

  He sighed. “Too bad you’re like my older sister. We could have been something special.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him. “Older? You’re seventy-six!”

  “Boo, you whore,” he said. “Now it’s your turn to tell me how amazing I look.” He pranced around me in a tight circle.

  “You don’t look seventy-six at all,” I said.

  He glared at me. “Try again.”

  “You look wonderful.”

  “I knew there was a reason I kept you around.”

  “Joy. Sustaining your ego is my life’s work.”

  “Make sure you don’t sneeze or fart tonight, okay? Your pants are so tight, I’m pretty sure they would rip. Wouldn’t want Knight Delicious Face to get a sample of the goods along with everyone else.”

  I groaned. “If you look close enough, you can see everything. It’s like I’m an advertisement for circumcision.”

  He looked closely. It was very disconcerting to have your gay unicorn best friend studying your penis that intensely. Finally, he gave his verdict. “It’s a very nice penis.”

  “Thank you.” Because it was.

  “Not as big as mine, though.”

  “Good-bye, self-esteem and fuzzy feelings. It was so nice to make your acquaintance.”

  “Bah,” Gary said. “Knight Delicious Face won’t know what hit him.”

  “Uh, yeah he will. His boyfriend.”

  “Want me to trample him?”

  “As awesome as premeditated murder of royalty would be, I don’t feel like causing the death of the King-in-waiting. That just might be against the law. Or something.”

  “I can make it look like an accident,” he said. “I’ve done it before.”

  “Remind me never to piss you off.”

  “You piss me off all the time.”

  “To the point of murder,” I amended.

  “I would never kill you,” he assured me. “Maim. But never murder.”

  “Most people think you’re sweet and fluffy. It’s all lies.” The throne room sounded crowded, if the noise from the other side of the Great Doors meant anything. I tried to peek through the doors, but I couldn’t see anything. Damn superior craftsmanship.

  “Just tell me when,” Gary said. “I’ll handle the rest.”

  “Tempting. But no. I don’t even care about stupid Ryan Foxheart and his stupid gorgeous hands or his stupid perfect boyfriend. Tonight is all about me.”

  “So glad you think so,” Morgan said, coming up from behind me. “It will certainly make things that much easier.”

  I turned to my mentor. He was wearing dark blue robes adorned with the King’s crest stitched neatly on the back. He’d braided flowers into his beard that matched Gary’s. They were absolutely adorable, and I had to stop myself from pinching Morgan’s cheeks and sighing at him. He didn’t like it when I did that.

  But wait. “What will go easier tonight?” I narrowed my eyes at him.

  He shrugged. “You did say tonight was all about you. I’m sure something will come along to help facilitate your desire.”

  “Morgan, I swear to the gods if you’ve—”

  Shifty wizard was shifty. “Oh look. We’re being called in.”

  And we were. The Great Doors opened and horns blared and the throne room fell silent. A thousand pair of eyes rested upon us. I always hated this part.

  We walked down the center of the throne room, an embroidered red carpet at our feet. Above, the lanterns glowed brightly, the walls covered in banners red and blue, the colors of the Knights of Verania.

  Mom and Dad sat near the front, Tiggy next to them at the end, towering over everyone else. They all grinned at me, and Tiggy said, “I like your trousers,” quite loudly, which of course caused me to blush and almost trip over my own feet as titters rose up around me, along with a few appreciative looks. Luckily, Gary was prancing regally next to me and I dropped a hand to the slope of his neck.

  Morgan just rolled his eyes.

  I’d done this countless times before. Stood in front of large crowds. I didn’t know why this time was making me feel as awkward as it was. Maybe it was because I had more eyes on me than normal. I tried to think of a way to subtly cover my crotch without bringing attention to it, but came up blank.

  The knights entered in next from doors on either side of the throne room. They lined the outer edges of the room, armor shining and bright, shields polished and swords sharpened. I didn’t see Ryan, but I obviously wasn’t even looking for him at all, so it didn’t matter.

  “He’ll come in after the King,” Morgan whispered to me.

  “I have no idea who you’re talking about,” I whispered back.

  “He’s lying,” Gary whispered. “You can tell because he’s sweaty.”

  And before I could respond with what I’m sure would have been a devastatingly witty retort (“Your whole body is sweaty!”), the crowd rose to their feet, and the knights snapped to attention as Good King Anthony of Verania and his son, Grand Prince Justin of Verania, were announced.

  “He’s not that grand,” I muttered.

  “Mediocre at best,” Gary agreed. “His hair is pretty fabulous, though.”

  “Yeah, if you like that sort of thing.”

  “Most people like hair,” Morgan said. “His is curly and dreamy. Now shut up.”

  The King was wearing long flowing robes made of the finest materials with red and blue jewels sewn into the edges. The crown on his head was uniformly gaudy and ridiculous: gold and diamonds and rubies and sapphires. He’d let me hold it once when he’d gotten drunk off of apple wine. It weighed like fourteen pounds. That coupled with the five-foot-long scepter, and he looked like he should own a couple of brothels rather than be a king. He’d laughed so hard when I told him that after I’d gotten drunk on apple wine. It’s not every day someone called him a pimp. And apple wine is deceptively strong.

  He saw me waiting next to Morgan and winked at me as he approached the throne. Naturally, not really knowing my place at all, I winked back salaciously. I could appreciate the older man. I had eyes, after all. He was all tall and barrel-chested and rocked a mustache that curled at the ends. Gary and I agreed he was a total KILF.

  “Sam,” he said as he stood in front of his people. “Glad you made it back in one piece.”

  “Was there ever any doubt, my liege?” I said.

  He grinned. “With you? One can never be too sure.”

  “You wound me.”

  “Nah. I’m pretty sure Morgan will take care of that for me. I thought I heard him muttering about tanning your hide when you finally got back.”

  “There will be a suitable punishment,” Morgan agreed.

  “I should have stayed in that cave.”

  “And Gary,” the King said warmly. “You are like the sun on an otherwise dreary day.”

  “Your mustache looks like it would tickle,” Gary said. “It’s gotten longer.”

  “And thicker,” the King said.

  “I am so grossed out right now,” I said. “I never really got the flirting thing.”

  “That much is obvious,” Gary said.

  “I meant between the two of you. Someone certainly rolled in a pile of sass before they came to the feast today.”

  “It’s merely a mutual agreement on each other’s aesthetic attributes,” the King said.

&nb
sp; “That and the fact that you are like a walking daddy fetish,” Gary said.

  Justin made a strange noise next to the King, and I looked up to see him glaring at us. Specifically me. I smiled back. His scowl deepened.

  “Maybe we should move on to the reason we’re here?” Morgan said, not unkindly. It was probably for the best. We tended to get distracted very easily, even if there were a thousand people staring up at us, no doubt listening to every word we’d said.

  So the King stood before his subjects and gave a long and winding speech about unity and love and the power of Verania, blah, blah, something, something. I’d heard it a billion times before so it was easy to tune out. I scanned the crowd, picking out familiar faces, friends and enemies alike. Not everyone in Verania appreciated magic. Some went so far as to see it as a thing of evil, a demon’s gift, but they were few and far between. We lived in a more modern age of science and free love.

  But there were a lot of faces that I didn’t expect to see. Usually, it was the old and rich, the top tier of society with their fancy clothes and sticky perfumes.

  And some of them were there.

  But much of the crowd was younger than normal.

  And much of them were male.

  The sons of the old and rich.

  Something wasn’t quite right.

  It wasn’t until I heard the King say Ryan’s name that I listened back in, because he was saying things like brave and selfless and kind and caring and how at twenty-five, Ryan would be the youngest Knight Commander in history. “He is the true definition of knighthood,” King Anthony said. “From his peers to his superiors—”

  “And your penis,” Gary whispered to me.

  I quietly kicked him in the leg. He snorted out orange sparkles.

  “—Knight Foxheart has been constantly commended and singled out for his courage and valor in the face of what could often be seen as insurmountable odds.”

  “He is definitely mountable,” Gary whispered to me.

  I silently punched him in the throat.

  And then Knight Ryan Foxheart was announced and the crowd turned toward the Great Doors. They opened and I’m pretty sure choirs of angels were singing and at least fourteen women in the room became spontaneously pregnant because godsdamn.

  His armor was new, infused with lines of red rock across the breastplate to signify the rank of commander. His sword hung heavy at his side. His shield was strapped to his back. His eyes were wide, his hair slicked back. He was completely and truly beautiful.

  “He certainly fills out that uniform,” Gary whispered.

  “I’d like to fill him out,” I whispered back because my resolve to get over him had gone by way of fickle wind. Which was to say I wanted to tap that ass because he was hot like fire.

  Morgan kicked us both.

  Ryan walked with grace and confidence, but I’d been watching him for a long time. The tense line of his jaw. His hands curled at his sides. The tiniest stutter in his steps.

  He was nervous.

  And it was adorable.

  And for some reason, his eyes were on me.

  And they stayed on me until he stood before the King.

  Because of course they did.

  I didn’t even know what to do with that. I’m pretty sure I was sweating in my tight trousers. “Today has been so weird,” I side-whispered to Gary.

  “I think the word you’re looking for is erotic,” he said back. “Today has been so erotic.”

  And then Ryan looked toward the King and knelt on one knee, bowing his head.

  “He looks good like that,” Gary murmured in my ear. “Right where he belongs.”

  I choked on my tongue. And spit. And air. And coughed quite loudly. It echoed around the stone throne room.

  Every single person in the room turned to look at me.

  “Sorry,” I said to everyone with a little wave. “Sorry. Bug flew in my mouth. Unavoidable. My bad. Please continue with the… knight. Thing.”

  Gary snickered.

  Justin was not amused.

  My parents had buried their faces in their hands.

  Tiggy was giving me a thumbs-up.

  Morgan looked resigned to his fate.

  King Anthony glanced at me fondly.

  And Ryan’s eyes were still trained on the ground, but I saw him fighting back a smile. I wanted to tell him I’d swallow anything for him just to see him smile, but I realized that didn’t sound promotion-ceremony appropriate, so I managed to bite it back down and instead thought of what spell I could use to modify everyone’s memories to forget the last four minutes had ever happened. I didn’t know if we had any eye of eagle back in the lab. I thought we’d used the last of it after that thing with the fire geckos. Fucking fire geckos.

  Eventually, everyone looked away from me, convinced I wasn’t about to do anything else completely stupid.

  King Anthony turned back to Ryan and pulled his sword and by the power of the Kingdom of Verania and words, words, words, he now decreed Knight Ryan Foxheart to be Knight Commander Ryan Foxheart, in charge of the Eighth Battalion, and didn’t that make my heart stutter a bit. Because the Eighth were kept close to the castle to ensure the safety of His Highness. The Castle Guard of the King. Of the Prince.

  And of the King’s Wizard.

  And any apprentice said Wizard would have.

  I was so completely and utterly fucked.

  Because this was an oath to the King. An oath was the most important thing a knight could ever do. It meant that he was giving his life over to those he pledged to. Oaths were rarely broken and if they were, it was only done because of extraordinary circumstances. Essentially, Ryan was giving everything to the King, everything that made him who he was. And since I was technically an extension of the Crown, he was doing the same for me.

  Mostly.

  And so everyone stood and cheered for Knight Commander Ryan Foxheart and he gave that goofy grin of his, the one that was crooked and sweet and caused my heart to do a weird little dance in my chest. Especially since it was directed at me for some reason. I decided right then that his jawline was fantastic and that his forehead was the best forehead to have ever forehead. And also? Muscles. (Not that I could see them under the knight’s armor, but I had a very vivid imagination and I was not ashamed to use it.) The smile faded as he turned toward the cheering crowd.

  Then the King decided to drop two bombshells in such quick succession that I’m pretty sure it caused everyone within a four-mile radius to collectively shit themselves.

  The first?

  The King said, “And I am so very happy to say that just this afternoon, my only son, Grand Prince Justin of Verania, asked for the hand of our new Knight Commander in marriage. And I could not have given my blessing more proudly. Once Prince Justin assumes the throne, Ryan will be the King Consort of Verania.”

  Everyone gasped.

  Gary said, “The fuck?”

  My parents looked upset.

  Tiggy looked murderous.

  The Prince smiled widely.

  Morgan was frowning.

  Ryan’s face went completely and utterly slack.

  And it was silent.

  So, being the bigger person that I am, I decided to break the silence even as my own heart was breaking. Because that’s what awesome people do. They step the fuck up and make sure things go right. So I said, “Yaaay.”

  It came out sounding like I didn’t mean that at all.

  I took a different approach.

  I slow clapped.

  No one joined me. They obviously didn’t know how slow clapping worked.

  I cleared my throat.

  Tried again. “Hurrrraaaaaaay.” It was a little more believable.

  I slow clapped some more.

  And glared quite viciously.

  Eventually, people got the idea and joined in. The applause wasn’t as resounding as it should have been, but what the fuck did I know. I was too busy writing sad ballads to unrequited love in my h
ead and planning a life where my hand would be my boyfriend.

  That is until the King made his second proclamation.

  Of doom.

  His smile was downright gleeful. “And luckily enough, our very own Sam of Wilds returned just in time for tonight’s festivities. Given the romantic mood of late, I’ve secretly been putting out my feelers and have invited some of the City of Lockes’ most eligible bachelors so that he himself may be as lucky in love as my son and future son-in-law. Immediately following the feast, the ballroom will open and we shall dance the night away, all in the name of romance. You better hurry, boys! I’m sure tonight his dance card is going to fill up rather quickly. I mean, have you seen those pants he’s wearing? If only I swung that way, I’d snatch him up myself!” He chuckled loudly, obviously pleased with himself.

  That asshole.

  The audience gasped again.

  And some of them leered at me. With their bodies.

  Gary said, “The fuck?”

  My parents looked shocked.

  Tiggy looked confused.

  The Prince was positively beaming.

  Morgan watched me warily.

  And Ryan?

  Well.

  He stood. Took a step toward me. Stopped. Hung his head.

  Someone in the audience said, “Yaaaay.”

  And then started slow clapping.

  CHAPTER 5

  I Don’t Want to Dance with

  Your Dead Grandma’s Ashes

  “YOU KNEW about this?” I seethed at Morgan after dragging him out of the throne room, Gary and Tiggy trailing behind me. “Are you out of your fucking mind?”

  “I am positive I have no idea what you speak of,” Morgan said. “And even if I did, you were the one that said tonight was going to be all about you.”

  “What happened?” Tiggy asked.

  “The King wants Sam to get covered in man juice,” Gary said.

  “Oh,” Tiggy said. “Your flower gonna get eaten?”

  “Nobody is taking my flower!”

  “And no one ever will if you keep calling it that,” Gary pointed out.

  “Not the time,” I growled. I turned my glare back to Morgan. “You. You. You are in so much trouble, I don’t even have words for how much trouble you’re in.”

  “And yet, you seem to be finding enough words for all of us,” Morgan said.