A Destiny of Dragons (Tales From Verania Book 2)

by T. J. Klune

  He threw himself back into living. He told himself he would never forget, and if there was one person for him, then there could be another. He was stronger than he’d given himself credit for, and while it cracked his heart, he was not broken.

  But he hadn’t seen the full picture woven by fate.

  Because sometimes, the power of love is greater than an oath could ever be. And as soon as the knight saw the boy standing near him on his wedding day, he realized that some things were meant to be broken so that others could be made whole.

  And then they fucked.

  Holy shit, did they fuck. In so many godsdamned positions, it wasn’t even funny. It shouldn’t have been possible, some of the ways they were able to bend. This one time, the boy took the knight up against a wall and just railed into him and—

  “REALLY, SAM?” Morgan of Shadows said, face in his hands. “This is what you’ve spent your time on?”

  I looked up from where I’d been reading to him from my Grimoire. He sat across from me in our laboratories underneath Castle Lockes in his old rocking chair that he’d had for a century or two. I thought it’d been a gift from someone important, possibly even her, the one who’d helped him build his magic, but I’d never gotten the courage to ask. All I knew was that no one aside from Morgan could sit in that chair for fear of having their fingers turned to spiders (a threat I wasn’t sure I wanted to see if would be carried out).

  I sat opposite him, resting my Grimoire in my lap, carefully turning the thick pages as I read off my condensed (and highly accurate) biography, something Morgan said was necessary. A wizard’s Grimoire wasn’t just for ingredients for potions or steps to a spell. It was a wizard’s history, both personal and professional. Morgan had tasked me with writing down my history in order to make sure that anyone who followed me understood the steps I’d taken to become the person I was. Granted, he’d been kind of vague when giving me this assignment, but I could admit to taking a few creative liberties. To be fair, though, I thought future generations should be aware of just how much sex I was having and who I was having it with so they could completely understand me as a person and realize how awesome I was. There were even pornographic stick figure drawings in the margins that illustrated my prowess.

  “Yes, well, there’s nothing wrong with having a healthy libido,” I said, trying to figure out if I should write the time I sat on Ryan’s face or if I should maybe go to church a little bit more. It really could have gone either way.

  “I’m sure there isn’t,” Morgan said. “Not that I would know anything about that.”

  “Oh, right. The asexual thing.”

  “Yes, the asexual thing.”

  “So, how does that work, honestly? You didn’t find anything about what I just wrote titillating?”

  There was the side-eye I knew and loved so well. “You might have lost me at the part of Ryan getting… how did you so eloquently put it? Oh yes. Getting railed.”

  I frowned. “Huh. Well, to each his own, I guess. I am so happy that you know that about yourself. It truly shows a mark of a great man when he knows who he is through and through. Personally, I am so okay with the sex, you don’t even know.”

  “Oh, I think I do, given that I hear about it all the time.”

  “We’re bros. I’m supposed to tell you stuff like that.”

  “Bros,” Morgan repeated.

  “Exactly. Bros tell each other everything. It’s the bro-code. Everyone knows that.”

  “Maybe bros should learn to practice some restraint.”

  “That doesn’t sound like a very bro thing to do. As a matter of fact, that might be anti-bro, and I would never do that to you. Now, should I continue, or…?”

  He didn’t look pleased at such a prospect. “How much more does it go on?”

  Pages upon pages. “Oh. Um. Not long.”

  “Sam.” Only he could say my name with so much exasperation and fondness all at the same time. It was really quite remarkable.

  “I might have written an ode to his penis in iambic pentameter that goes on for forty-seven stanzas,” I admitted. “I feel better now that I’ve said that out loud.”

  “Of course you did.” Morgan sighed.

  “Did you know that penis doesn’t rhyme with as many things as one might think? That was a lesson I learned far too late.”

  “Oddly enough, I don’t spend time trying to rhyme words with penis.”

  “Wow,” I said. “You put a lot of disdain in such a short sentence. I wish I could do that.”

  “It comes with recent experience,” he said dryly.

  “I’ll get there, I’m sure.”

  “Of that I have no doubt.”

  “Did you hear that one part, though? About the secrets? It might have been easy to miss. I can read it again if you’d like.”

  He leveled me with a flat look. “How could I miss it? You are many, many things, Sam, but subtle is not one of them. I don’t know if you even have a passing familiarity with the concept.”

  “I’m choosing to take that as a compliment,” I decided. “Because I have a fragile sense of self and must do such things to protect my ego.”

  He snorted before scrubbing his hands over his face. “I tell you things when you need to know them. Anything more will distract you from what’s truly important. Sam, I need to know that you’re taking this seriously. That everything we’re working toward is something you can face head-on without disruption.”

  That might have stung more than I thought it would. “I do my best,” I said, trying to not sound as small as I felt.

  He sighed and sat up in his chair. His long black beard trailed in his lap and hung over his knees. He wore magenta robes today, with periwinkle clogs sticking out underneath. I had asked him once if he was color blind. He told me he was old enough that he could wear whatever he wanted. And when someone had been alive for nearly three centuries, it’s hard to try and find any argument against that.

  But what I noticed even more than his eccentric clothing was how tired he looked. He had shadows like bruises under his eyes, and his shoulders were slightly slumped. His beard was shaggier than normal, and his hair was sticking up every which way, like he’d been running his fingers through it.

  I glanced around the lab, trying to see any evidence of what he might be up to in my absence, but everything seemed to be in its place. The only thing unkempt was Morgan himself, and that was only noticeable if you knew him as well as I did. I wondered if he—

  “I know you do,” he said. “Your tenacity in all things has never been found to be lacking. And I’m not trying to scold you. I know that all of… this can be overwhelming.”

  “All of this,” I said slowly, tasting the words, trying to find meaning in the enigmatic.

  “You’re a wizard, Sam. Possibly the most powerful one in an age. The fact that we haven’t yet even begun to scratch the surface of what you’re capable of would be overwhelming even for someone with far more experience. It’s not a detriment, but merely an observation.”

  But I wasn’t overwhelmed. Disconcerted maybe. Slightly fearful, sure. But I wouldn’t let it become my sole focus. I’d been taught there was a ceiling to all magic, a point where it could go no further. Just because we hadn’t yet found that ceiling for me didn’t mean it didn’t exist. I just chose not to dwell on it. “I’m okay,” I told him, hoping that if this was what was bothering him, I could attempt to put his mind at ease. “Really. I’ve got you and Ryan and everyone else. I’m handling things all right.” Then a thought struck me. “Wait a minute. Did Randall say something? He did, didn’t he? Of course he did, that old bastard, I knew he had it in for me!”

  After the debacle of the wedding and the deflowering of my body, Randall hadn’t stuck around very long. “Castle Lockes is too loud, and people here smell bad,” he’d said, glaring at anyone that tried to come within ten feet of him. “And absolutely nothing is made of ice! How can you people exist like this?”

  He was gone a
day later, either by foot or horseback or some ancient magic that I would probably never understand. Morgan had said he’d gone back to Castle Freeze Your Ass Off (“It’s Castle Freesias, Sam. I’ve told you that a thousand times.”) in the snowy lands of the North, but I had spent weeks following his supposed departure jumping at shadows, sure that this was just another test and that Randall was watching me from everywhere, waiting for any sign of weakness to turn some part of me into a gigantic dick as revenge.

  I still didn’t necessarily believe that wasn’t the case. For all I knew, Morgan was scheming along with Randall to enact some revenge for something I deserved. The sting of possible betrayal was bitter indeed.

  Morgan sighed. “Randall doesn’t have it out for you.”

  “That’s what you think. You don’t see the way he stares at me sometimes.”

  “I’ll bite,” he said. “How does he stare at you?”

  “Like I’m an idiot.”

  “Sam. You are an idiot.”

  “Oh. Things suddenly make much more sense right now.”

  “Funny how that works, isn’t it?”

  “Eye-opening to say the least. I might have to course correct a few things in my life. Or just keep them as they are to see how much shit I can get into.”

  Morgan folded his hands in his lap. “Randall’s just… concerned.”

  That didn’t sound good. “About?”

  “You,” Morgan said. He hesitated for a moment, like he was trying to pick and choose his words. That didn’t sit right with me. “The last year has been a whirlwind for you.”

  “But everything turned out all right,” I said. “Right? We rescued Justin, Kevin followed us home and can only talk when I’m near, and has somehow formed a weird psychosexual bond with Gary, and now, for reasons we don’t quite understand, they think they’re my pseudoparents. I found my cornerstone, and he loves me just as much as I love him. Justin is on his way to tolerating my existence, even though we’re already total BFFs. We may have a viable lead to track down Gary’s horn for the first time in years. What’s there to be concerned about?”

  “Whirlwind,” he said again. “Things have changed greatly for you.”

  Which, okay. Fair point. “But it’s all been for the better…?”

  “Is that a question?”

  “Yes. Wait. No. Things are better.” And they were. I couldn’t remember a time that I’d been happier. I’d found what I was looking for, what I’d been waiting for. This wasn’t an end. This was only the beginning. “Where is this coming from?”

  “We just want you to succeed,” Morgan said. “I’m not going to be around forever, Sam. Neither will Randall. One day we’ll both cross the veil into whatever waits beyond it. I need to know you’ll be okay when that happens.”

  And maybe I started panicking a little at the thought. “Are you dying?” I said, sounding rather shrill. “Is that what all this is? A lead-up to where you tell me you’re wasting away and will vomit profusely and then fall over and convulse obscenely in your death throes? You know I don’t like it when people die, and I really don’t like it when people vomit. Why would you do that to me—oh my gods, are you insane?”

  “And of course that’s what you took away from that,” Morgan said, shaking his head. “Dear gods, Sam, take a breath before you pass out. You’re turning blue.”

  I did as he said because breathing was good. “You can’t die!” I demanded. “I won’t allow it. If you even think of doing it, I will hunt you down and kill you myself. Are we clear?”

  He smiled at me then, as rare as it was beautiful. “Crystal. And I’m not dying, Sam. Neither is Randall. We’ll be around a long time yet.”

  “Either that or Randall will outlive us all just to spite me,” I muttered.

  “I wouldn’t put it past him.”

  “You’re mocking me, aren’t you.”

  “Why, where would you ever get an idea like that?”

  I eyed him up and down, trying to find any evidence of impending death. Aside from the tiredness, there wasn’t any. “You sure there’s nothing wrong with you?”

  He didn’t hesitate. “I’m sure.”

  “And you would tell me if there was.”

  “When the time came—and if you needed to know—yes.”

  “Morgan.”

  He wouldn’t budge an inch. “Sam.”

  I groaned. “Gods, you’re infuriating sometimes.”

  “You’re infuriating all the time.”

  “When I tell people you’re sassy,” I told him, “no one believes me. They just look at me like I’m the weird one.”

  “So, how they always look at you, then.”

  I scowled at him.

  He looked rather pleased with himself.

  “I guess we’re stuck with each other,” I said, trying to make it sound like it was the absolute worst thing in the world but not fooling anyone.

  There was that smile again. “I guess we are.”

  I hesitated, trying to find the right words to put his mind at ease. Words were never a problem for me. I could speak about anything and everything, though sometimes I tended to use them as a distraction or a shield. The more I talked, the less anyone would be able to see what I was really feeling. It worked, mostly.

  But this was Morgan. He didn’t deserve that from me. Not now. “You know I’ll make you proud, right? Like, I know I can do stupid things sometimes. And maybe I don’t always think things through. But I’m going to be a good wizard. For you.”

  He didn’t say anything for a long time, just sat there watching me. I tried not to squirm while I waited. Then, “You already make me proud, Sam of Wilds. Every day.”

  “Should we hug now?”

  “I’d prefer if we didn’t.”

  “Are you sure? Because I feel like we should hug.”

  “Sometimes,” he said, “we shouldn’t act on feelings, no matter how strong they may be. Now, since I’m sure I will not escape it, I suppose I should hear your epic ode to penises.”

  “It’s long,” I warned him.

  “So you’ve said.”

  “And hard.”

  “I am regretting so much already.”

  MORGAN LEFT me alone with specific instructions to keep going as I was, no distractions. “Your Grimoire isn’t going to finish itself, Sam.” Which, of course, gave me the idea of making a spell in which my Grimoire would complete itself, which, you know. Genius. But I obviously spent too much time around Morgan because he must have seen my entire train of thought coming a mile away and threatened me with bodily harm if I even considered cheating in such a way. Oh, and no more dick poems, because his heart could only take so much before it stopped itself just to get away from me.

  He was such a drama queen.

  He’d said he’d thought it was almost time to begin considering a binding for my Grimoire, either the skin of a fallen enemy defeated in battle or a material hard-won in the face of adversity. It would probably be years, he warned me, before I found such a thing, but the fact that he thought I was ready was monumental. I hadn’t expected such a thing to fall from his lips for another five years at least, or even as much as a decade. It meant that my plan to be the youngest wizard to take the Trials would be within my reach. I had wanted to attempt them (complete them, I reminded myself) by the time I was thirty. If things kept going the way they were, maybe I could get to them sooner. Of course, that would be only if Randall would let me, seeing as how he administered the Trials. He was an obstacle that I was sure would find some way to muck up my plans, just because he could.

  I was lost in a fantasy of finding a way to banish Randall to the far reaches of the earth, and I didn’t hear the door to the labs open. Probably not the best idea, given my propensity for having trouble find me at the most random of times.

  But then there were hands on my waist and lips trailing along my neck, and my magic said yes and home and mineminemine. I tilted my head back, letting it lie on his shoulder as he pressed himself
against my back.

  “Hey,” Ryan Foxheart murmured against my skin.

  “Hi,” I said, closing my eyes and relaxing.

  “You didn’t hear me come in, did you?”

  I scoffed. “Of course I did.”

  I felt his smile. “Liar.”

  “I was busy doing very important things.”

  “Uh-huh. So, do we need to talk about why your Grimoire is open to a page that says His shaft is thick and epic / without it I feel apoplectic?”

  “Nope,” I said hurriedly, reaching forward and slamming the Grimoire shut. “Nothing for you to see here. Secret wizarding stuff. Very hush-hush. Ancient and all that. Why, even seeing the words could cause your eyes to melt right out of your face.”

  “Really,” he said, gripping my hips. “Is that what you’re going with?”

  “It wasn’t even about you,” I said. “Not everything is about you, you know. Gods, how self-centered can you get? I’m a wizard, Ryan. I will have secrets. You’re tearing us apart.”

  “Uh-huh.” He moved his hands from my hips, trailing them along to the front of my trousers.

  “Ngh,” I said, because I had no blood left in my brain.

  “Eloquent as always. Maybe I should just jack you off right here. Think that’ll help you become vocal again?”

  Yes. Yes it would. He had the best ideas. I always thought so.

  “Except,” he said, sounding regretful. He gripped my dick through my trousers with his big hand, holding it tight. “Except, didn’t Morgan say that if he ever caught us having sex in the labs again, he’d curse us both and make it so the thought of touching each other was the most disgusting thing that could ever happen?”

  “I don’t remember that at all,” I said, arching into him. I brought my hand up to the back of his head, trying to hold it in place. “You must have dreamed it.”