by Sarah Noffke
Wilder pulled Excalibur off his back and presented it to Subner. “Here you are.”
Subner didn’t take the sword. Instead, he shook his head. “Great. Thanks. Now put it back.”
“What?” Sophia and Wilder exclaimed at the same time.
“Put. It. Back.” Subner punctuated each word with a pause.
“You had us go through all that just so you could tell us to put Excalibur back?” Wilder protested, looking irritated at his boss.
“I did.”
“But why?” Sophia wondered.
“Because the act of actually pulling the sword and everything the two of you went through was necessary to create other events,” Subner explained.
Wilder’s annoyed gaze shifted to Sophia. “A pawn, I tell you.”
“Yeah, I’m getting pretty used to Mama Jamba and others orchestrating things in my life,” she said, thinking of how Mae Ling always seemed to be setting her up, like Subner seemed to be doing.
“Do you at least want to look the sword over or add it to your collection?” Wilder inquired, still holding Excalibur out to the elf.
“No,” Subner answered. “For as irritating as it was that King Arthur stole my sword, his hiding place was pretty perfect. He knew I wouldn’t be able to pull the blade because I’m not royalty. It is much safer at the Gullington in Falconer’s Cave than here on Roya Lane. And that sword in the wrong hands would be very dangerous, so it should go back into the stone.”
“But what if someone in the Gullington pulls it?” Sophia questioned. “It’s not as safe and secure a place as it once was.”
“The likelihood a thief who is royalty breaks into the Gullington is much less than someone breaking into my shop,” Subner told her. “Especially if word got out I had Excalibur, the most prized sword in history.”
“Yeah.” Wilder looked at Sophia. “I think you are the only one at the Gullington who can pull the sword since you are the only royalty inside the area.”
“For now, she is,” Subner said mysteriously.
Sophia blinked at the Protector of Weapons but decided not to question him on these possible future events where there was another royalty at the Gullington. “You knew Wilder would ask me to pull Excalibur, and you knew I would help him. And you also knew my Royal blood from the House of Fourteen would allow me to retrieve the sword. Correct?”
“They were all educated guesses.” Subner sounded bored.
“And now after all this fun guesswork, we get to go put the sword back where it was,” Wilder stated dryly.
“We didn’t even get a souvenir t-shirt,” Sophia complained.
Not amused by their banter, Subner pushed off the counter and walked around behind it. “Actually, S. Beaufont, I do have something for you to repay you for your efforts.”
“What about me?” Wilder asked.
Subner glanced up from the case. “What about you?”
“Well, what do I get for losing my dragon for a part of a day and risking my life to get a sword you didn’t even really want?” he questioned.
“A good story to tell your children,” Subner answered, sorting through different items in the case.
Wilder huffed but didn’t respond otherwise.
“Now, where did I put that…” Subner muttered to himself. His face brightened. “Oh, here it is.” He pulled a pocketknife from the case. The craftmanship of the knife was striking, even from a distance. Sophia could tell a lot of care had been taken to etch the design of the serpent-looking dragon on the side. Gold inlay was used around the sides to highlight details.
He handed it over to Sophia, giving her a look she couldn’t quite make out. It seemed to have a hidden meaning behind it.
She smiled, looking the knife over. “Thank you. It’s beautiful.”
“And tiny,” Wilder observed.
“I made this pocket knife a few decades ago,” Subner explained.
“I like it has a dragon in the design,” she said, turning the knife over and admiring the details. She had no idea why Subner would give this to her as a gift. It was good to have a knife stashed away in her boot or something though, Sophia reasoned.
“I knew you would,” he hinted.
Sophia raised an eyebrow at him. “You knew I would like the design of the dragon, which is why you thought to give it to me?”
He shook his head. “No, when I made it, I knew you would like the dragon design, which was why I chose it.”
“You made this knife for Sophia a few decades ago?” Wilder asked. “Like before she was even born?”
“Yeah, I also made you something before you were born,” Subner revealed.
“Over two-hundred years ago?” Wilder questioned. “Before you even knew me?”
Subner nodded, not thinking this was weird.
Sophia’s eyes trailed away in thought as she was reminded that Wilder was so much older than her. All the guys were, so she wasn’t sure why it mattered. Evan was over a hundred years older than Sophia, and based on his behavior, no one would have guessed. Most of the time, Sophia forgot there was an age difference between her and the others, but she had always felt much older than she was.
“Well, what did you make for me?” Wilder asked Subner, looking around the shop expectantly.
“You can’t have it yet,” Subner told him.
Wilder rolled his eyes. “I should have guessed.”
Sophia opened the pocketknife and saw the blade was engraved with two initials. “S.B.”
She glanced up. “You really did make this for me?”
Wilder laughed. “Did you think he was just trying to pass it off as something he made for you? Like he was regifting it?”
“I don’t know,” she answered. “It’s just a little weird for someone to make something for you before you are even born that is so personalized. My parents didn’t even know they were going to name me Sophia until after I was born.”
“Such is the strangeness of the nonlinear timeline,” Subner commented, watching her intently as she studied the knife.
She turned the knife over, studying the other side of the blade. There was a strange pattern on that side. It looked like an organic design of swirls, but there was something strange about it. Sophia narrowed her eyes, trying to figure out what the pattern reminded her of. Her vision slightly blurred as she focused, and then she saw it.
Sucking in a breath, she looked up at the Protector of Weapons.
“Is that…” she asked, awe in her voice.
Subner nodded and flashed her a rare smile. “It is.”
Chapter Eighty-Seven
Sophia closed the blade and put it away before Wilder could see what she was referring to. Subner hadn’t elaborated. Instead, he ushered them to the door, telling them they should run along to the Castle. Apparently, dinner was about to be served, and Sophia would need to “manage” relations among her friends and the Dragon Elite. That is what he said, but she sensed he was just trying to get rid of them.
“What was on the blade of the knife?” Wilder asked her after they stepped through the portal outside the Barrier to the Gullington.
“Things,” she said dismissively.
“Why do you always insist on going on and on about things?” he joked.
She ignored him as they passed through the Barrier. “The Castle is still standing, so that is a good sign.”
“Meaning whatever is plaguing the Castle isn’t getting worse just yet?” he questioned.
Sophia shook her head. “No, meaning Hiker hasn’t destroyed it trying to murder King Rudolf or Liv.”
“Do you think the giants will be able to help with the Gullington?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. Hopefully, they can secure the Barrier when Mama Jamba stops protecting things. Whether they will know what is wrong with it is uncertain. Bermuda Laurens is an expert in a lot of things, but I think the Gullington is outside her field of knowledge.”
“Well, I hope they figure it out,” Wilder said, a lon
ging in his blue eyes as he stared across the Expanse.
“Yeah,” Sophia agreed, studying him as he looked out, an undeniable sadness in his gaze. Like her, he often put on a smile and made light of things, but the Gullington had been his home for almost two centuries. As hard as it was for her to see it in trouble, it had to be excruciatingly painful for him.
He sighed. “If nothing else, maybe when you help Quiet feel better, he’ll know what is what with the Gullington. Really, if anyone does, it will be him.”
Sophia nodded, still watching the other dragonrider. When he turned to face her abruptly, he caught her staring.
“What is up, stalker?” he asked, a teasing quality to his voice.
She jerked her head away, trying to cover her embarrassment. “Nothing. I thought you had something in your teeth.”
“Oh, can you see through lips now?” he challenged.
“I think you know I can,” Sophia retorted.
“Were you looking at me?”
“No,” she lied. “I was looking at Excalibur on your back.”
“Right,” Wilder said, not sounding convinced. “Do you want to go with me to put it back in the stone in Falconer Cave?”
Sophia shook her head, backing for the Castle in the distance. “I shouldn’t. I need to get back and mediate.”
He nodded, although there was an unmistakable look of disappointment on his face. “Yeah, I get it. I will be up to the Castle for dinner in a bit. I want to stop by the Cave and see Simi. Make sure she is okay after the whole ordeal.”
Sophia would do the same thing in his situation, although she was slightly disappointed he wouldn’t be going up to the Castle with her. She was looking forward to introducing Liv, Clark and the others to him.
“What is it?” he asked, seeing the expression she didn’t hide fast enough.
“Nothing,” she lied again as a wind swept across the Expanse, blowing her hair back from her face and shooting her cloak out behind her.
“You said your brother was cooking dinner for us tonight?” He seemed to be lingering even though they both had other things to do.
Sophia offered a smile, grateful for the question that kept her there. “Yeah, he is a pretty good chef. Much better than Evan.”
“That is good,” Wilder commented, twisting his tongue in his mouth, working his jaw back and forth like he was weighing some internal indecision.
Sophia took a step backward. “Anyway, I will save you a seat at the table.”
He took a step in her direction. “There are over twenty seats in the dining hall.”
She laughed as she backed away toward the Castle. “Well, the giants will take up several seats each.”
“Good point,” he said, his eyes lingering on her.
“Anyway, I have to go.” Sophia hesitated. She didn’t, but she wanted to run, and put her back to the guy before her and get as far from the strange tension rising between them, that was growing with each of their interactions.
“I know, but wait,” Wilder called to her.
She paused and regarded him like he was a painting—unreal but inspired by something quite tangible.
“I don’t think I really thanked you earlier,” he started.
“You did.” She glanced over her shoulder at the Castle.
“No, not well enough, I didn’t.”
“It’s fine, Wild.” She walked back several paces.
He made up the distance. “No, it’s not. You saved Simi for me. Most may not know how important that is, but you do as another dragonrider.”
“We’ve been through this,” Sophia argued. “I just did what you would have done if I was in that position.”
He laughed like she had told a joke. “I would love to see the situation where Sophia Beaufont actually asked for my help.”
“Why would I do that?” she fired back, grateful he was breaking the tension with something that made her laugh.
The wind sent Wilder’s hair back. “You probably won’t ever. You are not the kind of girl who needs saving. It’s one of the things I like about you.”
“I got to run,” Sophia said, pointing behind her to the Castle.
“I know,” he repeated. “But first, I need to properly thank you. Simi is my world. She is my life. And you saved that. If it wasn’t for you—”
Sophia's mouth twitched as she shook her head. “It’s fine. Thank me with a trip to Bora Bora or something. Right now, I have got to—”
“Run,” he finished. “I know. I get it.”
She knew he did. They both knew she couldn’t stay there one more minute and not just because her presence was needed at the Castle.
Sophia offered Wilder one last timid smile before she turned and ran, the wind propelling her toward the steps of the Castle, sending her cloak and hair out in all directions.
This time, she didn’t look back.
But if she had, she would have seen what she had dropped.
Chapter Eighty-Eight
Wilder Thomson was many things.
He was a man of his word, someone who valued friendship over wealth and prestige—and inexplicably taken by the woman who had just run from him.
He watched the wind carry Sophia Beaufont away. Wilder didn’t look from her until she disappeared into the Castle. He enjoyed how her cloak and hair whipping around her body made her appear like she was in the sky, riding her dragon.
There was more he wanted to say to Sophia, but she didn’t want to hear it. He understood. Things wouldn’t be easier for them if he said more to her. If he said all he wanted to.
He didn’t blame her for running, but he did wish he knew the way to her heart.
Wilder was about to head in the direction of the Cave and call his dragon down to him. Just as he was turning away from the Castle, a glint of something shiny in the grass caught his attention.
He marched across the Expanse, following the path Sophia had just taken.
In the grass was an object he recognized. For a magician who had always felt and seen the life of a weapon, he didn’t get any reading from the pocketknife he retrieved from the grass. It was the one Subner had given to Sophia in thanks for her help retrieving Excalibur.
Maybe he didn’t get a reading on the pocketknife because it hadn’t had a real life yet, stored at the Fantastical Armory with Subner all this time. Or maybe the Protector of Weapons had put a shield on it, disallowing Wilder from reading anything about the knife. He knew the elf had that ability since Subner was the one who had made it so Wilder could pick up information on weapons.
He studied the exemplary craftsmanship of the knife, the dragon design on the outside, and the gold inlay. Then he opened the knife and found Sophia’s initials on one side of the blade.
He turned the blade over and peered at the image on the other side. It was a crisscross of designs that seemed abstract. As he studied it longer, a single object came into view.
He shook his head, not understanding why that object would be on the blade of Sophia’s knife.
Chapter Eighty-Nine
The Castle was buzzing with noise when Sophia entered. At first, she couldn’t determine if there was a fight going on in the dining hall or a party. Her head was buzzing after her conversation with Wilder. Not just her head, but that was all she was giving notice to right then, maybe ever.
“All I’m saying is that is not how they like their Beef Wellington,” Ainsley yelled from the dining hall.
Sophia snuck to the doorway and peered through to find the housekeeper with her hands in the air and her red hair a wild mess.
Clark was opposite her, a picture of perfect poise as he regarded her with quiet contempt. “And how do the dragonriders like their Beef Wellington?”
“In the trash,” Ainsley answered at once. “We don’t eat frou-frou food like that around here. Hiker Wallace wants food that sticks to his ribs. Not things rolled in pastry and sprinkled with bits of mushroom. I don’t even think he’ll eat a mushroom.”
; Clark shook his head, obviously working to keep his temper in check, although the shapeshifter was challenging him on a new level. “That is not really how Beef Wellington is prepared. I assure you it’s very hearty.”
Ainsley shook her head erratically. “He doesn’t want hearty. He wants the same thing he always has every day I have cooked for him.”
Clark sighed. “But you can’t cook for him. You can’t cook for anyone right now, which is why I’m here. Why don’t you just relax and let me do what I came here to do?”
“Annoy me?” Ainsley yelled back, getting in Clark’s face. Thankfully it didn’t provoke him.
He shook his head. “No, I came here to help. I wish you would let me do it.”
“Fine!” she exclaimed. “Don’t cry when Hiker throws your food across the room and tells you that you are rubbish.”
Clark didn’t respond as Ainsley fled from the room, not even seeing Sophia by the door as she stormed up the stairs.
She peered around the doorway and waved discreetly at her brother, who was pushing his hands through his hair. “Hey,” she said, offering him a sympathetic smile.
“Hey,” he replied, his voice more husky than usual.
“Ainsley means well, she just…”
“She just is dealing with a lot,” he supplied, nodding with understanding. This was what made Clark a good Councilor for the House of Fourteen. He was more empathic than most, able to read the details of a situation and know what really needed to be done for the best interests of everybody.
“She is,” Sophia admitted. “I mean, she is not a ray of sunshine when in normal mode, but she has been taking care of the Castle and the guys for centuries.”
“It must be tough to be sick suddenly and have newbies filling up her Castle taking over things.”
Sophia was glad Clark understood. “Yeah, I can’t even imagine. Thanks again for coming to help.”
He offered her a smile. “Of course, Soph. You know I will always be here for you. I mean, not until recently could I be here at the Gullington for you. This is nice.” He looked around at the Castle, admiring it. “What a marvelous place you have become a part of. Mom and Dad would be incredibly proud.”