The Lightning-Struck Heart

by TJ Klune

  And my night ended with me standing alone among my mother’s flowers saying “Wait, what?” as I looked up at the stars and wished for impossible things.

  CHAPTER 6

  Ducks, Blueberries, and

  Accidental Almost Hand Jobs

  TWO DAYS after the Weirdest Night in History (and yes, it even beat the night forty years ago when the wizard Carlton the Dark Moth somehow managed to replicate himself sixty-seven times and then proceeded to have a self-orgy out in the town square of Meridian City), four invitations for dates came to the castle.

  I ignored them at first. I was busy in the labs, trying to catch up on writing my own Grimoire before Morgan chewed my ass. I was at least two chapters behind, and getting trapped in a cave by Lartin certainly hadn’t helped.

  A wizard’s Grimoire is his legacy to the world of magic. Or at least that’s what Morgan had told me time and time again. At first, I didn’t see why we couldn’t just share his, but he had just smiled at me, handed me his book, pointed out a relatively minor spell to turn an apple into an orange, and told me to knock myself out.

  Which is exactly what I did.

  When I woke up four days later with my eyebrows singed off, Morgan had told me that a Grimoire’s spells were meant to be tailored to the individual wizard who wrote them. Morgan’s Grimoire was in tune with Morgan and his magic. Since he was my mentor, his magic was intertwined with my own, which is why I only lost my eyebrows and not a hand or a foot.

  Magic isn’t just the wave of a hand or the utterance of a word. Morgan best explained it in that a wizard is like a conductor to a symphony. It’s the specific timing, the cadence, the movements that allow the magic to occur. Without a conductor, the beat could be lost and dissolve into a blaring cacophony.

  Without a knowledgeable wizard or a guiding hand, the magic could be fatal to the caster.

  Morgan had shelf after shelf of Grimoires of the wizards that had come before him in the Verania line that would one day go to me. I tried not to think about that part. It felt like way too much responsibility.

  So I experimented in ancient tongues. I conducted the magic, listening to it sing. There were colors here. So many colors that it was easy to get lost in them. To be overwhelmed by them. Morgan had said once that he’d gotten so far into the colors that the edges of reality had started to bleed together, like the world was melting around him. He’d made a mistake and almost didn’t make it back out. He never clarified what he’d seen in those moments. What he’d heard. He’d recounted the story to me as a warning of the addictiveness of magic. It was so easy to go too far.

  Morgan never let me. He kept my boundaries contained and controlled. Every now and then I’d wonder how I could ever know how far my magic could go if it was always boxed in, but I never pushed. Morgan knew more than I did. I trusted him to know what was best for me.

  “You’re going to need to answer these invites.”

  Well. Most of the time.

  “Fall off a cliff,” I told him pleasantly, not bothering to look up from my Grimoire, where I was jotting down a particularly difficult and complex equation that would allow me to create fireworks out of corn kernels. You know. The important stuff.

  “I did that once,” he said. “I was being chased by a particularly pissed-off manticore. He knocked me off the cliff and into a river all because I’d inadvertently insulted his mother. To be fair, she was a magnificent bitch who had tried to eat me the week before, so I was justified. I woke up four days later without any knowledge of who I was and spent the next six months working in a traveling carnival.”

  I gaped at him.

  “I was the bearded lady,” he said. “At some point during those four days that I was passed out, I’d somehow managed to grow a pair of breasts. It was an odd and trying time, but I came out stronger because of it.”

  “Only you would learn a life lesson from being a bearded lady with amnesia,” I said.

  “Everything is a life lesson,” Morgan said. “Like these invitations from potential suitors.”

  “Your segue was clunky and I am embarrassed for you.”

  “This won’t go away if you ignore it. You know better than anybody that when the King sets his mind to something, there will be follow-through or fallout.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I have better things to do.”

  “Like dance with a certain knight for fifteen minutes?”

  I gritted my teeth. “Not my fault. He wiled me. With his ways. I was desperate to escape, but was duty bound as my position of your apprentice to save face. For you.”

  Morgan laughed. “Because you’ve cared about that in the past. Clunky segue incoming. The King has appointed said knight as your chaperone for any upcoming outings of a romantic nature.”

  “Kill me,” I begged him. “If you have any respect for me at all, you will end my life right this second.”

  Morgan shook his head. “I am too fond of you to see you go.”

  “Sentimental bastard.” I paused, considering. “I am sort of fond of you too. Though right this second, I couldn’t tell you a single reason why.”

  He flipped through the invites. “Pick one. Pick all of them. But at least pick one. And when you go out, remain vigilant. The Darks are probably still pissed, even if it was scum of the earth like Lartin. If I think any of this is interfering with our work, I’ll pull the plug. But I’ll know if you’re throwing it on purpose, Sam. You know as well as I do what will happen if you can’t find a proper cornerstone for your magic.”

  I groaned. “Not the cornerstone thing again. I don’t need someone to help anchor my magic. And even if I did, I have you. And Gary and Tiggy. And my parents.”

  He shook his head. “It’s not the same thing. Especially now that you’ve come of age.”

  “This whole thing was your idea, wasn’t it?” I accused him. “The King tried to take credit for it, but you did it.”

  He shrugged. “Mutual exchange of ideas.”

  Fine. “Is there one from a man named Todd?” I asked.

  “There is.”

  “Send the response. Throw the others away.”

  “No sex on the first date,” Morgan said. “Don’t give up all the goods. Save some of it for later. You have to keep him coming back somehow. The gods only know it won’t be from your sparkling personality alone.”

  “I feel like you not existing would be an okay thing for me right now,” I said. “Also, I’ve started a new chapter on the Grimoire that deals specifically with memory alteration and breast augmentation. Take that for what you will.”

  “A threat?”

  “A threat,” I confirmed.

  He smiled at me. “You are going to be an amazing wizard. Mark my words.”

  I DIDN’T see Ryan again until he was to act as my chaperone three days later.

  I was totally okay with that.

  Because I had a plan.

  Fuck Ryan. I didn’t need him.

  “It’ll be the Date to End All Dates,” I told Gary as he nosed his way through my closet. “And yes, before you ask, it is capitalized just like it sounds. Great plans should always be capitalized.”

  “Why is that?” Mom asked as she came into the room smelling of earth and lilies and lichen.

  “To ensure their success,” I said, posing in front of the mirror.

  “I don’t think that’s quite how it works,” Dad said, coming in behind her. They went and fussed over Tiggy, who pulled them into his lap where he sat on the floor. We didn’t know much about where Tiggy had come from before Gary met him, but he’d been touch and attention starved. My parents had unofficially adopted him almost immediately, and he adored them both.

  “You just have to believe,” I said as I flexed.

  “I believe you should work out more if you’re going to keep doing that,” Gary said. “Because it’s making me feel sad for you.”

  “Do we like Todd?” Mom asked.

  “We do,” I said.

  “Sort of,”
Gary said.

  “No. Not sort of. If I have to do this, then he’s good enough. He’s nice. And has these ears.”

  “Ringing endorsement,” Dad said.

  “I have priorities,” I said.

  “As we’ve heard a thousand times,” Mom said as Tiggy brushed a finger through her hair.

  “I need to finish the Grimoire,” I said as if she hadn’t spoken at all. “Then I have to find a binding for it. Morgan says that a wizard’s Grimoire needs to be bound with great care, either by the skin of an enemy defeated in battle or a material hard-won in the face of adversity.”

  “I think I prefer the material hard-won,” Mom said. “It sounds less… brutal.”

  “And that’s why I have priorities,” I said.

  “Maybe you should prioritize getting a new wardrobe,” Gary said. “Your clothes remind me of sadness.”

  “I’m an adventurer,” I said. “I have no time for fashion.”

  “You are a wizard in the King’s Court,” Dad reminded me as Tiggy pressed his big nose into his hair.

  “Apprentice,” Gary said. “Just make with the magic and conjure up some clothes.”

  I frowned. “That’s frivolous.”

  “And?”

  “You know how Morgan feels about frivolous magic. Magic is important. It’s not meant to be for something mundane.”

  “You tied my mouth shut with shiny rope,” Gary said.

  “That was important. I didn’t want you talking anymore. That wasn’t frivolous.”

  “How is the corn kernel firework spell coming along?” Dad asked.

  “Great! I think I… and I see what you did there.”

  “I did nothing,” Dad said innocently.

  “Except lie. You liar. How cool would it be to have corn in the growing season ignite into fireworks to let you know when it’s ready to be picked?”

  “Unless the fireworks light the corn on fire,” Mom said.

  “And burn down villages,” Dad said.

  “And make people homeless and dead,” Gary said.

  “You smell good,” Tiggy said to my father.

  “Sam of Wilds’s Amazing Firework Corn,” I said. “It’s been capitalized, so now it’s a good idea.”

  “It’s like all our wishes for the future have come true,” Dad told Mom. “Remember when you were pregnant with him? I would whisper into your stomach that he would make exploding corn when he grew up.”

  Mom leaned in and kissed him gently. “Those were the days.”

  Tiggy wrapped them both in a hug. “I love you guys,” he said.

  “Get out,” I said. “All of you. I just realized I only have ten minutes until I go on my first date and I need to have a freak-out before I go downstairs.”

  They complied immediately. I had trained them well.

  “You’ll do fine,” Mom said as she kissed my cheek.

  “Don’t tell him about the corn,” Dad said as he hugged me close.

  “If he hurt you, I smash him,” Tiggy said, patting my back.

  “Have fun on your date with Ryan,” Gary said.

  “You bitch,” I said.

  Gary leaned in and put his forehead to mine. “I put clothes out for you on the bed,” he said quietly. “Try to have some fun, okay? Don’t freak out too bad. Wake me up when you get home if you need to.”

  “I’m going to mess this up,” I groaned.

  “Probably. But that’s okay too. I’ll still be here.”

  “I love your face,” I told him seriously.

  “It’s a pretty good face,” he agreed.

  And then I was by myself.

  “Well, fuck,” I said as I looked back in the mirror. “You can do this. You got this. You’re golden. It’s just a date. Only a date. A first date. With a man. Who is nice. And being chaperoned by another man. Who is… someone I am not thinking about. Todd. Todd. Todd. I like his ears and his freckles, and he stumbles over his words and it’s awesome. I might want to kiss him. Maybe I will even blow him.” My reflection’s eyes went wide. “Okay, sorry. Sorry. No blow jays. You haven’t practiced yet. Mental note, practice blow jobs. Okay. Good talk. Let’s do this.”

  Gary had laid out gray trousers that were soft and worn thin paired with a green tunic that was a little tight across the chest. Trusting my hornless gay unicorn best friend, I just went with it. I quickly dressed and checked out the result in the mirror.

  “I am a sex god,” I said in awe. “Well. Kind of. Okay. Not really. And self-esteem is quickly deflating. Feeling sad now.”

  There was a knock on my chamber door.

  Shit.

  “Just a minute,” I called.

  I used that minute to have a complete meltdown. It went well, as far as meltdowns go.

  I opened the door, resigned. Pete was on the other side, looking far too amused.

  “I don’t even want to hear it,” I grumbled.

  “I wasn’t going to say a word,” he said.

  “You,” I said. “Not saying a single word.”

  He shrugged. “Well, a few words. Your date for the evening has arrived and is waiting in the lobby. And the Knight Commander is there too.” He was struggling not to smile. “There might be some… posturing involved.”

  “Posturing,” I repeated.

  “Intimidation tactics, even,” Pete said.

  “Who is Todd trying to intimidate?” I asked, sounding shocked.

  Pete covered his face with his hands and groaned. “I worry for the future of this kingdom.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I’m going to be a part of that future. I think we’ll be just fine.”

  “Because of your level of awareness?”

  “Exactly,” I said, smiling at him. He knew me so well.

  He muttered something that sounded like “we’re all doomed,” but I couldn’t be sure as I was too busy shutting my chamber doors.

  TODD DIDN’T seem to be posturing in the slightest as I descended the stairs. In fact, he looked downright terrified.

  Ryan stood right next to him, a bland expression on his face.

  Morgan was leaning against the wall, humming quietly to himself.

  “This was a bad idea,” I breathed.

  Which, of course, they heard. They snapped their gazes to the stairs.

  “Eep!” Todd said.

  “Sam,” Ryan said.

  Morgan just smiled enigmatically.

  “Heeey,” I said, giving an awkward wave.

  Then we all just stood there.

  For, like, two whole minutes.

  Just staring.

  Morgan cleared his throat pointedly.

  Todd said, “Um. Yes. Right. My cue. Thank you, my good man.” He took a step forward. And then another. “Sam! You look—”

  I waited.

  “—just… grand,” he finished.

  “Thank you, Todd,” I said. “You look very nice.” And he did. He wore a tight waistcoat over a white shirt and a silver cravat. “Your ears are still awesome.”

  And he flushed.

  Ryan scowled.

  Morgan rolled his eyes.

  “These are for you.” Todd handed me a tiny mesh bag. Inside were a collection of beautiful seashells shining gold and yellow and white. They were Rovian shells, specifically, that I needed for a spell I had yet to complete. I hadn’t had the time to gather them myself. The nearest coast was ten miles away.

  I glanced up at Morgan, because this had to be his doing. There was no way Todd could have known about these. Morgan winked at me.

  I looked back to Todd, who watched me with a concerned look on his face. “These are perfect,” I said quietly. “Just what I needed. Thank you.”

  And he smiled, low and sweet. “I collected them myself.”

  “That makes them even better,” I said honestly.

  “Shall we?”

  I nodded and he led the way out of the castle, Ryan trailing behind us.

  This was nice. It was a nice start. Everything was good.


  Everything would be fine.

  EVERYTHING WAS not fine.

  Well, it started off fine.

  But then it escalated very, very quickly.

  The carriage ride was made in near silence. I climbed in first, and Todd sought to follow and sit next to me. Ryan cleared his throat and shook his head. Todd must have gotten the message because he quickly moved to the other side of the carriage, eyes wide.

  Ryan sat right next to me, crossing his considerable arms over his considerable chest.

  And stared at Todd.

  Because I’d never met a silence that I didn’t at least attempt to fill, I said, “So, this is… festive.”

  Todd said, “Quite.”

  Ryan stared.

  Silence.

  I said, “Where are we off to this fine evening?”

  Todd said, “Antonella’s. It’s the restaurant in one of my dad’s hotels. It’s new and very high class.”

  Ryan stared.

  I said, “At the hotel, huh? If the evening goes well enough, maybe we could just get a room after.” It was a joke. An awful, awful joke.

  Todd whispered, “Sweet gods.”

  Ryan glared.

  Silence.

  So I said, “I was just joking. I’m not really going to fuck you on our first date.” For clarification.

  Todd said, “Sweet gods.”

  Ryan glared.

  Silence.

  I couldn’t help but say, “Well, maybe a hand job if you’re lucky. I’ve got nice—”

  Ryan put his hand over my mouth.

  Todd was sweating.

  I thought about licking Ryan’s hand.

  Todd said weakly, “It’s going to be a lovely evening.”

  ANTONELLA’S WAS classy. Bright and shiny and new. A string quartet played softly in the background. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, the candles lit and flickering.

  We were led to a table away from the others, a booth in a cozy corner. I knew this was the point where Ryan would have to bow out and keep his distance. It’s not like I was on a date with him. At the very least, he should have given us some semblance of privacy.