A Destiny of Dragons (Tales From Verania #2)(88)

“No,” Morgan said. “Or at least I’d hoped. I’ve spent the decades making sure the seals remained in place between this world and the shadow world. I didn’t even feel them crack.”

“Then how did he come back?”

“That is the mystery, Sam.”

I set the pack on the countertop and sighed. This was already more complicated than I had hoped it would be. “You have to tell me,” I said. “Everything. Because if this is true, if the star dragon was right, then Myrin will come for me. And I will do everything I can to stop your brother.”

And so he did. He spoke in a monotone, flat and expressionless. By the time he’d finished, his voice was hoarse and my heart hurt. For him. For Randall. And for what it was I was being called on to do. And I was trembling, because the story he’d told, the things that had been done, shook me to my very core. Before I left, I took his face in my hands and kissed his forehead as he gripped my arms.

He said, “Be safe, Sam of Wilds. The world depends upon it. As do I, because I need you so.”

I nodded and left him standing in the labs with nothing but the memories of loss and betrayal.

And I didn’t look back.





Chapter 13: The Gypsy City


AS WE approached Mashallaha, the picture became clearer as to what waited for us. I had never ventured this far west, knowing I was considered banished given that I was my mother’s son. And the desert really didn’t appeal to me. All that sand getting into my crevices was not my idea of a good time.

I knew of Mashallaha, as I knew of every major city in Verania. I’d heard the stories, seen the drawings, but nothing prepared me for the first sight of it.

It was in the middle of the oasis, the buildings and homes and shops built atop the lake that was fed from some underground source. Mashallaha was mostly wood, the city resting on thick pillars that were embedded into the lakebed below. Everything was connected by wooden planks and pathways above the water, with narrow channels built for speedier travel by long, thin canoes. It looked like paradise with its brightly colored flags and lights on strings that stretched between all the dwellings.

The rich would often come to Mashallaha on vacation, as it was as exotic as anything got in Verania. Most of Mashallaha’s economy was built around tourism, with lavish and rustic hotels and gypsy customs that seemed mysterious and bizarre to the more refined city-folk. Traveling to Mashallaha was harsh and arduous but supposedly made worth it when you were lying on a bed padded with palm fronds, feeling the room rock gently around with the waves below, staring up through an open panel at the stars above.

I didn’t have time for shit like that.

The last time I tried to take a vacation was six months ago with Ryan. We’d been halfway to Meridian City when we were attacked by a group of audacious trolls who were convinced that Ryan was somehow their queen, something I had yet to let him live down. Needless to say, it’d ended up with him wearing a crown of flowers while I was tied to a tree, too busy laughing my ass off to try and save either of us. Eventually they’d let us go, but only after Ryan had promised to return on a regular basis as their figurehead. He’d been back twice so far. Gary was seriously jealous over it.

But other than that, between wizarding and some really spectacular butt sex, I didn’t have time for long getaways. The fact that we were here now was because our hand had been forced. Even with the beauty of Mashallaha, I wanted to spend as little time here as I could before moving on. It would take us a good six weeks to reach Castle Freeze Your Ass Off after dealing with the desert dragon, and I wanted to get there sooner rather than later so I could give Randall a piece of my mind face to face.

“Oh, thank the gods,” Gary moaned as we got closer. “This has been hell on my thighs. I am going to find the most bronze cabana boy I can and make him massage my flanks while feeding me little pieces of frozen fruit.”

“And I shall find an even bronzer cabana boy and show him the wonders of a forked tongue,” Kevin said, holding his head up high. “You know what they say. You haven’t been porked until you’ve been forked.”

“No one says that,” I said. “Literally no one at all.”

“I heard it before,” Tiggy said. “From Gary.”

“Tiggy!” Gary shrieked. “I would never. I have a bit more self-respect than that.”

“Pfft,” Kevin said, a little tendril of smoke curling from his nostrils. “That’s not what you said when you were sitting on my dick.”

“You’d think I’d be used to hearing things like that.” Ryan grimaced. “You’d be wrong.”

“Sam,” Gary said. “Would you please tell Kevin that I am much classier than—”

“Nope,” I said. “Nope, nope, nope. Stop it. Just stop it. I’m tired. I hate the sun. I have sand on the skin between my balls and my asshole. I am going to a city run by my grandmother, who I believe is sketchy and nefarious. I have to face a dragon who could eat me alive. All I want to do is lay on a bed, not move for hours, and I cannot do that if I have to sit here and listen to your shit.”

“Oh snap,” Tiggy said. “Sam go rawr.”

“Can I be honest right now?” Gary asked. “That turned me on a little bit. Like, at least half a chub.” He fluttered his eyelashes at me. “You want to go get a drink later? Maybe after, if you’re lucky, you can finally find out what it means to taste the rainbow.”