by T. J. Klune
Through the sticky haze that fell over my vision, my eyes burning as I tried to blink it away, I saw the guards along the streets try to push the fruit-throwers back, tackling them to the ground and knocking filled baskets askew. Tall and Short were frozen in front of us as Gary started screaming that they were getting it into his luxurious mane, were they godsdamn savages?
Ryan grabbed me by the arm, sword already drawn. “Tiggy,” he barked over his shoulder, “sack of potatoes! Kevin, umbrella!”
I grunted as Tiggy picked me up and threw me over his shoulder, much to my dismay. “You put me down,” I snarled at him. “Let me at ’em! You wanna throw fruit, you fuck-faces? I’ll show you throwing fruit!”
But before I could magic the royal shit out of them, the sounds were muted and the world grew darker as Kevin crowded behind us, his wings spread out above us, cutting off the attack. Ryan and Tiggy began moving forward, shoving Tall and Short out of the way. Short fell over with a squawk, barely rolling out of the way before Kevin crushed him. “Sorry,” I called back to him. “Our bad!”
More bastard fruit-throwers jeered outside Kevin’s wings, and I heard the wet splat as he was struck again and again. He was grimacing and rumbling deep in his chest, eyes flashing. I’d learned a long time ago that a dragon’s wings could be sensitive (and, honestly, the way I’d found out was forever going to be etched into my mind, seeing as how it involved Gary, Kevin, and a gravy boat filled with cream), so I was sure that it didn’t feel the best for him.
“What the hell is this?” I shouted.
“We’ll worry about it later,” Ryan said, sounding pissed off. Which, had I not been covered in gross, I probably would have found inappropriately attractive. But I wasn’t having a very good day. Or week. Or life, really, if I was being honest.
“Gary’s gonna have to choke a bitch,” Gary snarled, leaving trails of glitter falling to the dirty cobblestones under our feet. “Gary gonna bring the pain.”
“Sam’s gonna help with all of that,” I said, just as angry.
“Oh boy,” Ryan said. “Let’s get to the Tilted Cross before we start murdering citizens left and right. Maybe take a deep breath or two. And I’ll be honest, the third-person thing really isn’t working for me.”
“There, there,” Tiggy said, patting my butt. “There, there. You okay? Yeah. You okay.”
It didn’t take us long before we came to a stop and Tiggy lifted me back off his shoulder and set me on the ground. Kevin’s wings shook above us before he lifted them back. I looked behind us to see a line of guards blocking the street, though there didn’t seem to be anyone trying to push through. Nothing further was being thrown at us either, though we were already covered, Kevin in particular. His wings were saturated with the remains of rotted fruits and vegetables. He shook them, grimacing as mushy apples and tomatoes and—randomly—carrots fell off him onto the ground.
“I don’t like Meridian City,” he decided. “They don’t treat me as a god here like everywhere else does. For shame. I have decided I shall burn this city to the ground, just as soon as I am clean.”
“Tiggy smash,” Tiggy growled. “Tiggy smash so hard.”
“And I am going to bite so many bitches,” Gary said. “My teeth are flat, but I’ve been doing jaw exercises, and in case you can’t tell, they’ve been working wonders on my jawline.”
“I’m probably going to stab a few people,” Ryan admitted. “If we’re all saying stuff.”
“And yet you made me get carried like a damsel in distress while we ran,” I accused him, poking him in the chest. Which probably wasn’t one of my best ideas, seeing as he still had strawberries stuck to him. I shook my finger, trying to get it off me.
“Hey,” he said, grabbing my hand. “My job is to protect you. If I see a threat that looks bigger than us, you can bet I’m going to make sure you’re safe somehow.”
“You don’t get to have Tiggy throw me over his—”
“You did the same to me,” he said, sheathing his sword. “Back on the road before the corn cult. Remember? Those Dark wizards coming after us.”
“And the fire geckos,” Gary whispered.
“And the fire geckos,” Ryan agreed, arching an eyebrow. “You made Tiggy carry me away while you stayed behind and tried to play hero.”
“Well, yeah. But then, if you’ll remember, I did that whole lightning thing, and it was amazing. And what do you mean tried to play hero? Motherfucker, I was the hero.”
He rolled his eyes. “You made your choice then. I made my choice here. It’s what we do, Sam. We keep each other safe.”
Since I didn’t want him to know how much that warmed my heart, given that he was totally cheating by appealing to my sappy side, I scowled at him. “Lightning,” I insisted.
“Don’t you think you’ve done enough lightning lately?” he asked, eyes trailing to my chest. I knew what he was trying to say, and my scowl deepened. Those scars weren’t my fault. I didn’t even know why they’d happened the way they did. It wasn’t like I’d ever done that before. And it was fucking Myrin. I didn’t have a choice.
So I opened my mouth to retort as one would in my position, but was cut off when a voice spoke from behind us.
“Oh look. They’re standing around, covered in I-don’t-know-what, arguing about something that probably has no relevance to our current situation. So, essentially as they always are. How wonderful that the fate of Verania is in the hands of… this.”
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm myself before I accidentally turned something into a penis. Then I turned around.
Standing in the doorway of the Tilted Cross were Morgan of Shadows and Randall. Morgan looked slightly amused. Randall, of course, did not.
“Randall,” I said. “How nice to see you today. Did you get a new hairstyle for your eyebrows? They look a little… bigger than usual.”
Morgan sighed.
“You think you’re smart, boy?” Randall asked me. “Because I do believe that I’m not above bringing you down a peg or two should the situation call for it.”
“Why, Randall. You old scoundrel. You’re shameless in the way you flirt. Buy me dinner first before you start calling me boy. But you should know that I don’t put out on the first—”
“Sam,” Morgan said.
“He started it.”
“And yet you continued it,” Morgan said lightly. “Standing there, looking like you all do.”
“I feel sticky,” I admitted.
“We look like the aftermath of a foodie gangbang,” Gary said morosely. “Except no one actually touched me in such a way to make me orgasm.”
“I can—”
“No, Kevin.”
“I was just—”
“Kevin.”
“Fine,” Kevin said. “I didn’t want to, anyway.”
“What happened here?” Ryan asked Morgan and Randall. “Why did these people attack us? Where are the Darks?”
Morgan and Randall exchanged a look, communicating something I couldn’t quite parse. When they turned back to us, I knew I wasn’t going to like the answer they gave.
“The… fruiting,” Morgan said, lips twitching, “was an unfortunately misguided attempt at protest by the group known as the We-Hate-Sam-A-Lots. As for the rest, well. Maybe you should come inside.”
Chapter 3: Reconciliation and Best Friends 5Eva
“GODSDAMN FUCKING Lady Tina DeSilva,” I muttered as I toweled off in one of the rooms in the Tilted Cross after a shower. “I’ll fuck her shit up, I promise you that. Trying to make me look like the bad guy? I’ll curse you so that your hair falls out, you odiferous bitch.”
Obviously my mood hadn’t risen at Morgan’s little pronouncement. And it certainly hadn’t helped when he’d pointedly separated Ryan and me into different rooms to clean up. I’d told him that in times of an uncertain economy, it was probably better that Ryan and I shower together to conserve water. Also, I reminded him, I was a high-value target, and wh
at if I was assassinated while I showered all on my own?
Morgan had said that the economy was just fine and that the Tilted Cross was as safe as any other place in Meridian City, so I probably wouldn’t be assassinated. Which, leave it to Morgan to be so practical. That asshole.
I’d stared forlornly at the door that had closed behind Ryan, imagining the hot water running down his naked body, his hand running through the wet hair on his chest, his muscles bunching in his legs as he bent over to wash his feet—
Morgan had shoved me into the room across the hall, warning me to get in and get clean.
Which I’d done, obviously, even if it was against my will.
I was almost dried and sure I’d found the perfect way to get my revenge against Tina DeSilva (I’d turn her into a frog who constantly emitted pheromones that would attract predators to eat her!) when there was a brief knock on the door. Before I had a chance to cover myself, the door opened and closed just as quickly as a tall wisp of a man leaned against it, arms filled with what looked to be soft clothing.
His skin was almost colorless, his long yellow hair falling down around his shoulders. I was absolutely positive he was part elf (or even full-on elf), but neither he nor Mama would confirm it to me either way. What I really wanted to know was what he was doing outside the elven realm. Elves rarely left, and if they did, it was for a specific purpose.
Not that I’d tried very hard, obviously. Because this was Moishe. And Moishe had made it perfectly clear just how hard he’d like me to try anything with him.
Which explained the way he eyed me now.
Have you ever been eye-fucked by a possible elf before?
I have.
It wasn’t pleasant.
I fitted the towel around my waist and tied it off securely, refusing to blush under his watchful gaze. “Moishe,” I said evenly. “Typically, when someone knocks, they wait for permission to enter before doing so.”
“I suppose they typically do,” Moishe said, his voice light and lyrical, almost like he was singing every word. “However, when have you known me to do anything typical?”
I rolled my eyes, unsure how it was possible for him to make everything he talked about sound dirty, even if the words weren’t. “Okay. Fair. What do you want?”
“I’ve brought you clothing, seeing as how yours was… stained.”
“I had others in my pack.”
He wrinkled his nose. “Yes. Those. They were filled with sand, the wretched things. Mama sent everything to be cleaned.”
“And my other stuff?” I wouldn’t put it past Mama to take an interest in the sand sailboard. I still needed to figure out why Ruv had gifted it to me. I thought we’d been clear on the whole cornerstone thing.
“It’s all there in Mama’s office,” Moishe said, stepping forward. He moved with a deliberate grace, almost like he was dancing. Elves, like dragons, were infuriating creatures who usually only did things when it benefited themselves. Kevin and Zero had charity in them (maybe Zero more than Kevin), but I’d never met an elf who did anything that didn’t benefit themselves. It was why I tried to have as little to do with elves as possible.
I stayed where I was, refusing to be intimidated as he moved through the room.
But instead of descending upon me like I thought he would, he went for the bed, laying out the clothes he’d brought. There were loose sleep pants and a soft shirt that was probably a size or two bigger than I usually wore.
He turned back toward me, eyeing me curiously. “Do you remember this room?”
I shrugged. “It looks like most of the ones that are rented out here.”
He smiled. “That it does. But this room specifically, Sam. This is the room you rented that day. When you kissed me. When you told me you wanted me to take your virginity. When you used me. Do you remember that?”
“I already apologized for that.”
“I know you did,” he said, tilting his head. “But that wasn’t what I was referring to. Even though you were hurting, I didn’t… take.”
“You wouldn’t have done that,” I said.
His eyes flashed. “How can you be so sure?”
“You’re not that kind of person.”
“Is that right?”
“And Mama would have killed you.”
He grinned. It wasn’t a very nice smile. “She would have. She loves you so. She sees you for what you are, more than the others, I think. But that is what she does. She has a keen eye for those who will do whatever it takes to get the job done. Those of us who will play dirty if it means winning.”
“What do you want, Moishe?”
“When you were kissing me, when you were… playing dirty, if you will, my hand was on your chest, against your skin. Do you remember?”
I did. It hadn’t gotten far, what happened between Moishe and me, and hadn’t lasted long, but his tongue had been in my mouth and his hand was underneath my shirt, and I remembered thinking, This isn’t what I want, this isn’t who I want. I’d pushed Moishe away, telling him I couldn’t do this, that this wasn’t who I was, thinking, Ryan, Ryan, Ryan, you fucking asshole. You bastard.
“What about it?” I asked Moishe slowly.
“I tasted your magic,” he said, taking a slinking step toward me, gaze just crawling all over me. “However briefly. It was strong, Sam. Very strong. But it was nothing like it is now. It doesn’t just waft from you. Not anymore. Now it explodes.”
“People grow,” I said, voice even. “It’s been a while. I learned new tricks. I’m sure you’re probably aware there’s a stupid prophecy involved. That tends to change people.”
“Is there? Because my hand was on your skin, Sam. I rubbed my fingertips against your chest, and I memorized the way it felt. It took one touch and I knew what you felt like. It’s not like you are now.”
And—oh. This… made a bit more sense now. Mostly. “These old things?” I said, waving my hands toward the tree-root-like welts that crossed my chest, raised and reddened. They’d stung in the shower at first, the hot water running over them and causing me to hiss. But I’d gotten used to the sensation soon enough and had been able to ignore it, for the most part.
But they were more noticeable now, especially after the shower. They stuck out like a brand. They were unsightly, sure, but there was a strange beauty to them, like something was growing just underneath my skin. I’d only had them for a few days, and with everything else that had been going on, I hadn’t even had time to think about how I felt about them.
And now that Moishe was staring… hungrily at them, I didn’t like them very much. “Dude,” I said. “Stop staring at my boobs. You’re acting creepy.”
He didn’t even have the decency to look chagrined. He merely met my gaze with that knowing smile of his. “It’s not every day that you see signs of a wizard’s magic etched such as yours. In fact, I don’t know that I’ve ever seen it before.”
I snorted, trying to edge my way past him to the bed to get the clothes. “Because you know so many wizards, right?”
“I’ve met my fair share,” he said, not looking away from me as I moved around him. “I am far older than I look.”
I rolled my eyes. “Elves usually are. And you’re all also enigmatic jerks. Seriously, it’s like no one can just fucking come out and be forthright anymore.”
His smile only widened. “But you can?”
“I’m always forthright. Here’s an example: stop looking at me like you’re two seconds from jizzing all over me.”
“I like magic,” he said.
“I know. You’ve told me many times. Fun fact: so does my boyfriend.”
The distaste on his face was obvious. “Yes. That one. He’s certainly… breathing.”
“I like that about him,” I said. “Now, if you could just—”
“Would you like me to be forthright with you, Sam?”
“I’d actually like you to go away, if I’m being honest.” I picked up the shirt. It was as soft as it looked.
Mama provided only the best for her working boys and girls.
But before I could put it over my head, Moishe was right in front of me, moving quicker than I expected. He wasn’t… touching, exactly, but I could feel the heat of him. He said, “Prophecies have a way of being manipulated, Sam. Those who deal in the art of prophecy have a tendency to twist what they see for whatever suits them best. I say this as your… friend.”
“We’re not friends,” I said, not unkindly. “We’re acquaintances at best. Lecherous acquaintances.”
“Then a word of warning to my acquaintance,” Moishe said mockingly. “Make sure you’re seeing what you think you’ve been shown. Sight tends to lose itself in those paths that are set in stone.”
“You made that rhyme on purpose, you asshole. You’re terrible.”
“Sam.”
I sighed. “But stone can crumble. A snake dragon monster thing taught me that. Don’t ask.”
“It can,” Moishe agreed. “But it takes a great event to break it apart. One that I don’t know if you’re—”
“Moishe.”
He smiled and took a step back at the sound of the warning in Morgan’s voice. I looked over to see my mentor standing in the open doorway, watching the both of us with a blank look on his face. I hadn’t even heard him come in.
Moishe bowed, eyes never leaving mine. “I do hope you find your stay at Tilted Cross as illuminating as always, Sam of Wilds.” Then he turned on his heel and slunk toward the door. Morgan stepped aside, allowing Moishe to pass without comment. Morgan shut the door behind him.
“He’s lucky that it was you who came in and not Ryan,” I told Morgan. “Because Ryan absolutely does not like Moishe.”
“I can’t imagine why,” Morgan said, and I itched to go to him, to hug him tightly, given the weeks we’d been apart. Two things stopped me: I was still pretty much naked and still pretty much angry with him.
“Right? It’s because he wants all up on this,” I said, awkwardly pointing at myself, still holding the shirt in my other hand. I didn’t necessarily have a problem with nudity, and there were times in my earlier days when I’d accidently done a spell that had burned off all my clothes once or twice in front of Morgan, but the scars on my chest were… different. For him. And we both knew it. They meant something more. They meant Myrin was real.