A Destiny of Dragons (Tales From Verania #2)(61)

And I said, “No. You can’t have him, you can’t have him—”

His grip tightened on my face. He leaned forward, his cheek brushing against mine. The shadows that surrounded him crawled along my skin. His lips were near my ear when he whispered, “He is your heart. And I will rip it still beating from your chest.”

And then he was gone.

I gasped, whirling around.

The City of Lockes burned.

The dark man was gone.

But I wasn’t alone.

Vadoma. Or an approximation of her. She was younger here, even more so than she’d been in the desert with the star dragon. She was vibrant and beautiful, looking so much like my mother that it knocked the breath from my chest. But where my mother’s eyes were warm and kind, Vadoma’s were hardened like steel. It was disconcerting, seeing that difference.

“Why are you doing this to me?” I asked her, voice shaking. “Who are you?”

“Your grandmother,” she said, looking at the remains of the City of Lockes. “A gypsy. I have lived a long, long life, Sam. Longer than you could possibly imagine. I have seen things come to fruition that were shown to me in the shadows. There have been times the shadows have lied, that the light between the screaming stars showed a path that was eventually averted by a thousand possible choices. But this… this, Sam. All paths end in this. Unless you accept your destiny.”

“I don’t have a—”

“You do,” she said. “For the dark man will not stop until he’s seen this world burned beneath his feet. Haven’t you ever wondered why you were given the magic you have? Why, out of everyone in the world, the gods chose you as they did?”

“No,” I said. “Because I learned not to question the gifts I’ve been given. Because any day they could be taken away.”

“Dilo,” she said. “You foolish man. Life is about questions.”

“Life is about living,” I said.

“Which you will not do,” she said, trapping me neatly. “Unless you accept your fate and face what is coming. You don’t ask the questions you should because you’re scared of the answers you will get. He has touched you. Can you feel it?”

I could. The warm heat of his hand on my skin. “Who is he?”

She shook her head. “I know not. Much is hidden from me. You heard the star dragon.”

“Of course it’s hidden,” I said, irrationally angry. “Because that’s the way it works. Is that all it is? Smoke and mirrors? Is he even real? Or is this just some twisted game to you, allowing you to fuck with my mind? I don’t have time for this.”

I turned to go somewhere, anywhere that wasn’t near her. I’d only made it seven steps when she spoke again. And though her words were few, nothing else she could have said would have scared me more.

“He will die, Sam. The one you love.”

I stopped, heart racing. The City of Lockes had been devastated by something. And she… she was playing this game.

I didn’t want to say anything else to her. But of course I did.

“Who?” Though in my secret heart, I knew.

“I have seen it.” And she sounded desperate now. “No matter what happens.”

I turned slowly. “Are you threatening him?”

“No,” she said, and in that, I thought she was being honest. “I have no need. Especially if it’s the truth I see.”

“You’re lying.”

“Not about this.”

“You’re lying.”

“Your eyes are not open, Sam of Wilds.”

I took a step toward her and—

I was in the throne room.

It still stood, the walls and ceiling intact.

On either side of me were the people of Verania, their heads bowed in supplication. They wept, the women wiping their eyes, the men blowing their noses. Even the knights along the walls had tears in their eyes.

And I stood in the middle, walking down the main aisle, the red carpet leading to the dais soft under my feet.

But instead of the King’s throne on the dais, there was something else.

I said, “No.”

And took a step.

And then another. And another.

The people of Verania stared at me with scorn as I passed, as if what awaited me had been my doing. I ignored them as best I could, wanting to prove Vadoma to be a liar. This wasn’t possible; it wasn’t anything she said it would be. This was all a dream, a trick of the mind, no matter what Randall and Morgan believed. She had tricked them somehow, but she wouldn’t get to me. I swore she wouldn’t.

The King stood on the dais, head bowed. Justin was next to him. Gary and Tiggy. Kevin was nowhere to be seen. My parents. Randall. Morgan, my mentor, the man I trusted maybe even more than the knight who’d taken my lightning-struck heart in his hands to make it his own. Morgan, who had such sadness on his face, such despair.

“Morgan?” I said as I got closer, voice breaking. “Please. Please.”

And he looked away.

On the dais sat a large rectangular stone. Atop this stone lay a knight in full armor, sword clasped between his hands. His eyes were closed. His skin was pale. His lips looked almost clear. He was as beautiful in death as he was in life. My knight.

“No,” I choked out, trembling hands reaching to touch, to wash away this nightmare. “This isn’t real. This isn’t real.”