A Destiny of Dragons (Tales From Verania #2)(37)

I gaped at him.

He glared at the floor, hand still clutching his sword.

“I’m not going to do any of that,” I finally said. “But wow. That was impressive. Dude. I am impressed.”

He rolled his eyes. “It doesn’t take much to impress you, Sam.”

“Lucky you, then.”

“Hey!”

But I was already turning back to Morgan, who watched us with a fond look on his face. “He’s not my cornerstone,” I said. “Ryan is. And nothing is going to change that.”

“Oh, I’m aware,” Morgan said. “And I’m pretty sure everyone else in the castle is too if the way you bellowed exactly that was as loud as I think it was.”

“Why is she here?” I asked, suddenly very, very tired. By now, Ryan and I should have been curled up together in my bed, his hands on me, skin slick with sweat. The fact that I was dealing with this instead was not doing anything for my mood. “And what deal did you make with her? No bullshit here, Morgan. And I swear to the gods, if I hear the word destiny out of your mouth again, I will kick you in the nutsac. I really will.”

He sighed. “You have a destiny, Sam.”

Ryan managed to pull me back just in time.

“I do not,” I snapped at him. “I don’t have anything aside from what’s right here. I don’t want anything else but what’s right—what are you doing? Who are you calling?”

Morgan had pulled out his summoning crystal from a pocket in his robes, a thin piece of quartz that caught the candlelight in the labs. A bright spark shot off in the middle of the crystal and faded almost immediately. A second passed. And then another. And then—

“Do you know what time it is?” an angry voice said.

I groaned. This day was getting worse by the second.

“It’s half past nine,” Morgan said.

And the wizard known as Randall harrumphed. “I know what time it is. I was making sure you did. Seeing as how you do, I will move on to the next question. Why are you summoning me at such an ungodly hour?”

“Summoning,” I said, elbowing Ryan. “Old people these days. Why can’t he just say calling like everyone else?”

Ryan looked adorably confused. “Isn’t it called a summoning crystal?”

“Shut up.”

“Is that Sam I hear?” Randall asked sharply.

I frantically waved my arms at Morgan, shaking my head and mouthing no, no, no.

“Yes,” Morgan said. “And Ryan Foxheart.”

“What did they do now?” Randall asked. “They get stuck together like dogs in heat and can’t handle it? Back in my day, we wouldn’t break apart for hours if we could help it.”

I choked on my tongue.

“It all started with the Sweeney cousins. There were five of them, and we each took turns—”

“Whyyy,” I moaned, covering my ears, trying to block out everything I could. Still, certain things filtered in like, and then he put it up my and we didn’t have time to add spicy mustard and it ended up being stickier than I imagined.

“—and that’s how we ended up in a daisy chain for the entire weekend,” Randall finished a few minutes later. “Those were different times. Men were men and did manly things. None of this fancy poof stuff like Sam here.”

“Fancy poof stuff?” I exclaimed. “I’m going to turn your eyes into dicks! And then everyone is going to call you dick… eyes. Okay, I didn’t think that through, but I reserve the right to come back to it when I think of a name that will scar you forever.”

“Yes, yes, I’m sure it will be devastating. You still haven’t explained why you’ve summoned me and won’t stop talking.”

Before I could remind him that he’d been the one going on for at least five minutes about cousin-loving, Morgan said, “Vadoma Tshilaba has come to Castle Lockes.”

There was a beat of silence. Then, “Shit.”

“Wait, he knew too?” I asked. “Of course he did. Because assholes stick together.”

“He probably hasn’t shut up about it, eh?” Randall asked.

“Not even the slightest,” Morgan said. “Irate is probably the best description.”

“You’re damn right I’m ir—”

“Give me a minute,” Randall grunted. “These old bones don’t move as quickly as they used to. Hip, especially. Apparently, being almost seven hundred years old makes your body ache more than usual. Who would have thought?”

“Maybe you should just die, then,” I muttered darkly.

“Certainly not I,” Morgan said mildly, like he had all the time in the world.

“You’ll find out soon enough,” Randall said. “Pissing every five minutes, hands shaking, erectile dysfunction. Getting old is the worst.”

“He’s coming here?” I asked. “But that’ll take weeks. We don’t have time for—”

“You’re still kind of stupid, aren’t you?” Randall said from directly behind me.

The noise that came out of me was not a high-pitched scream, no matter what any of them said. It wasn’t.

I whirled around, and sure enough, the most powerful wizard in the known world stood there, looking as grumpy and decrepit as always. His eyebrows looked like they had finally won the Battle of the Forehead and had begun to spread out in thick, wiry white hairs that seemed to reach his ears and nostrils. He was still in his pajamas, a striped onesie that was blown out on one knobby knee. On his feet were a pair of bunny slippers that I was sure wriggled their noses and whiskers, eyes blinking slowly. Randall himself watched me with a look of mild disdain with a dash of disgust and exasperation mixed in. He must have found me lacking as usual, because he clucked his tongue and shook his head.