A Destiny of Dragons (Tales From Verania #2)(39)

Ah, and there it was again. Yet another reference to Randall as Morgan’s mentor that they would probably tell me jack shit about. Much of Randall’s past was shrouded in secret. At first I thought it was because he was at a level of magic my tiny little brain couldn’t understand. But as I grew older, I came to realize it was just because he was a dick. There were stories told, of the madness of a king brought back to sanity by Randall’s force of will and of his cornerstone, Myrin, who had been hidden in shadow. Myrin, who had built up Randall’s magic to allow it to be where it was today.

I had so many questions about this, but now wasn’t the time. “You knew me,” I said. I was tired, exhausted really, and it was evident in my voice. “Before the day in the alley. Both of you.”

“Yes,” Morgan said simply.

“Because of her. Vadoma.”

“Yes.”

I looked back and forth between them, using Ryan’s hand as an anchor. “Was any of this real, then? Or was everything that’s happened to me, everything that has made me who I am… was it all planned from the start?”

There was a pained look on Morgan’s face. “Sam, everything that you’ve been through, the lessons you’ve learned, both on your own and taught to you, have been real. I swear to you on all that I have.”

“The paths we take are divergent,” Randall said without his usual ire. “The choices we make cause them to splinter off in different directions. No one could have foreseen you becoming exactly the person you are today. It doesn’t work like that. And Morgan’s right. You have always had free will, Sam. You’ve been guided, but not controlled.”

“Then what is this?” I asked. “What is all of this?”

“Gypsies have magic,” Morgan said. “But it’s different than what you or I know. The rules that govern the wizarding world do not apply to them. They can do things we cannot. The same can be said about us against them. They don’t deal in the physical magic, but esoteric. Mystical. It’s a—”

“Bunch of horse crap, if you ask me,” Randall grunted. “Reading tea leaves and bones and wailing up at the heavens in front of a bonfire to show them the future.”

“It felt real when she had me pressed up against a wall,” I said.

Randall waved me off. “Sleight of hand. A distraction. Hardly civilized. I could stand outside under the stars and spout a hundred different predictions about the future and have the same success as the gypsies. The difference being I know it’s a crock. The fact remains, most of it never ends up coming true. And even if it does, it’s only because it was inevitable.”

“Except me,” I said.

“Except you,” Morgan agreed. “But then, you have always been the exception. She came to me shortly before your birth under the cover of darkness. I was on the road between here and Meridian City, returning to the castle. I hadn’t stopped, because I could see the lights of the City of Lockes, and I wanted to be home. I was alone on the road until I wasn’t. She told me her name was Vadoma, that she hailed from the desert, and she had a message for me.”

“And what was the message?” I asked slowly.

“That a boy would be born to one who was banished from her clan to live in poverty in a city at the seat of power. The banished one made a choice between the love of a man and the love of her people and suffered the consequences. And in her suffering, the boy would be born who would bring great change upon the world and rise against a tide of darkness that rose in opposition.”

And that… was pretty fucking stupid. “Seriously,” I said. “That’s what she said.”

“Yes,” Morgan said.

“Okay, but. Like. That was so vague.”

“Right?” Randall said. “Horse crap. Of course, after she got done with her hippy-dippy bullshit, she flat-out told Morgan that her daughter was pregnant and she thought the demon spawn was going to have some kind of magic. Her words, not mine, so you get that look off your face. You look like your huffing glue again.”

“That was one time! I was eleven.”

“Drugs are bad,” Ryan said.

“Thank you for that contribution,” I said. “You are the light of my life.”

“Even though that was said sarcastically, it’s true,” Ryan said, and I fought hard not to swoon. Because fuck yeah, that was true.

“So she told you about an awesome kid being born—”

Randall coughed.

“A magical prodigy being born—”

Randall sneezed.

I glared at him. “A demon spawn being born—”

Randall smiled.

“—and you just bought whatever she had to say?”

“Of course not,” Morgan said.

“Pretty much,” Randall said.

“Pretty much,” Morgan agreed. “To be fair, she was very convincing. Gypsies usually are with their outfits and wrist bangles. And even if that wasn’t the case, Vadoma was well known for her predictions. People travel far and wide to have her read them.”

“She also charges them for everything they’re worth,” Randall said. “And then tells them anything they want to hear. It’s a scam, if you ask me.”

“She’s a fortune-teller?” I gasped. I couldn’t think of anything worse than fortune-tellers. Most of it was bullshit, their little stands set up in festivals behind velvety purple curtains, peering into their crystal balls or reading lines on palms and gasping over just how amazing things were going to be. They weren’t really prevalent in the City of Lockes outside of celebrations. But there was one on practically every corner in Meridian City, the signs in the windows promising to TELL YOUR FUTURE!! CHEAP!!!!!!! “But—but that’s terrible.”