A Destiny of Dragons (Tales From Verania #2)(26)

“No one said anything,” I said. “They never do when you get gross.”

“Oh, I could have sworn I heard either you or Ryan or Justin agree with me on the erotic tension thrumming between the three of you.” He stared at us.

We stared back.

“Nothing? Well. I guess my ears deceived—Justin, your mouth is moving. Are you asking if I want to watch you have sexual relations with your former lover and his new lover? No? That’s not what you were saying if that look means anything. Okay. Where was I? Ah yes!” His eyes narrowed and he bared his fangs. “There I was, protecting all of Castle Lockes from sexual deviants who wanted nothing more than to take what was mine away from me. But I destroyed them all with my love for Dragoncorn. They fled from whence they came, back into the dark abyss, and once again, the world was saved thanks to Kevin. No, please, I absolutely don’t need a life-sized statue of me made of gold erected in the city center so that others may bask upon me. And if I can’t convince you otherwise, I will promise not to steal it to hoard, even if I should have it because it looks like me and is shiny and probably has eyes made of rubies. Hold the applause. I shan’t need it.”

We held our applause. Just barely.

“My hero,” Gary sighed. “You are going to get so much muffin tonight.”

“Ooh,” Kevin said. “An appropriate reward for my valor. What kind of muffin?”

“Banana nut,” Gary purred.

Kevin gasped. “My favorite.”

“You don’t want to eat his banana nut muffin,” I whispered to Morgan. “It actually means—”

“I know what it means,” Morgan snapped. “You gave me a list of their entire bakery. In all the years I’ve lived, I have never read such depravity.”

“Did you read the part about their scones and—”

“And that’s where I think this should end,” Morgan said firmly. “Because the gods only know how much longer this will go on if I don’t shut you up now.”

He had a point. “The gypsies are on their way in,” I told Kevin. “We need to be ready.”

The ridge above Kevin’s eyes furrowed. “Gypsies? Aren’t they mostly peaceable people?”

“Mostly.”

“So we’re not under attack.”

“Not that we know of.”

“And you just let me tell that mostly false but true story of how I defended everyone because of my amazingness.”

“Pretty much.”

Gary was nickering near his ear, and Kevin’s eyes rolled back in his head. “I am gonna get so laid tonight. Thank you, Sam. I’ll take you out to toss the ball around later and you can tell me about the project for science class that you’re doing. We’ll get you first place yet, just you wait and see. No boy of mine is gonna get a damn participation ribbon. Those things are only given to first-place losers.”

“Remember what you said in the foot-smelling closet?” I asked Ryan. He nodded. “You can’t take it back now.”

“Already did,” he assured me. “You’re on your own with this one. Hell, I might see if I can go with the gypsies.”

And before I could come up with the appropriately devastating retort, the Great Doors opened and the announcer walked into the throne room. “Your Majesty,” he said. “The phuro of the Bari Lavuta Clan requests an audience. Vadoma Tshilaba extends her greetings of peace from her people to those in the City of Lockes. She wishes to see the faces of her daughter and grandson.”

The King looked from me to my mother, then back toward the Great Doors. “The phuro may enter in the spirit of peace.”

The announcer nodded and went back through the Great Doors.

“Sam,” Morgan said quietly. “You must listen to me. Are you listening?”

I glanced over at him to find him watching the doors. “Yes.”

“Whatever Vadoma says, you must know that having you by my side has been one of the greatest joys in my long life. That I wouldn’t have changed it for anything. Do you understand?”

A chill went down my spine. “What are you—”

“Do you understand?”

No. No I didn’t. “Morgan.”

“There is much I haven’t told you,” he said, finally looking at me. There were lines around his eyes and mouth. He looked tired, more so than I’d ever seen him. Like he was an old man. He was an old man, close to three centuries, but he never looked it. He smiled tightly. “All I ever wanted was to keep you safe and whole.”

“You have. Why are you—”

The Great Doors groaned as they parted, the Castle Guards pushing against them.

At first, nothing else happened.

Then I felt a prickle along the back of my neck, like the softest of whispers, as if something was reaching out for me. It felt familiar, as if I’d somehow known it before.

A man came first, barefoot, each step deliberate and soft. He was shirtless, the shadows from the flickering candlelight crawling along his muscular torso. His trousers were tight at the waist but billowed along his thighs and legs. His arms were heavily tattooed, colorful lines etched into his skin seemingly without pattern. A gold band was wrapped around his right bicep. His skin was darker than my mother’s, his black hair pulled back and tied in short ponytail. His eyes were dusky, with what looked to be black coal smudged around them.