The Lightning-Struck Heart (Tales From Verania 1) - Page 249

He cupped my face in his great hands and pulled our foreheads together. He said, “You have done me a great honor, Sam of Wilds.”

I reached up and curled a hand around the back of his neck. “And I would do it again,” I whispered. “For you.”

“Even after everything?”

“Even then.”

“Anything. Anything you want. It’s yours.”

I shuddered out a laugh. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do,” he said. “Because I know what this has cost you.”

I had to ask. I had to. Even though everything told me to just walk away, I had to ask. “Could you make Justin release Ryan from his oath?”

My mother made a small wounded noise, but I couldn’t look away from my King.

He was obviously pained when he said, “No, Sam. I could not.”

“Then you can’t give me what I want.” I squeezed the back of his neck and pulled away.

He said, “Sam.”

I smiled at him, forcing it to be as bright as possible. I raised my voice. “It is good to be home. Especially so much sooner than I expected.”

“That may be so,” a voice said from my right. “But you sure took your time getting back. Not all of us like to stand around waiting, Sam of Wilds. ’Tis a luxury you can’t afford.”

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath because if I didn’t, I probably would have tried to curse the wizard of wizards.

“No penis noses,” Morgan muttered as he walked up with the others in tow. “Whatever you do, do not turn his nose into a penis.”

“No promises,” I said, then turned to face the oldest living man in the known world.

Randall.

Unsurprisingly, he looked old as fuck. His eyebrows were eating his forehead. His nose hairs looked like they were staging an escape, curling out and around his nostrils. His beard was thin and scraggly, yellowed slightly around his mouth. Even his ears had more hair sticking out of them than was actually on his head.

He was older than anything else. He was whipcord thin. His liver-spotted hands shook slightly. His eyes were rheumy, sunken into their sockets.

And yet, the power that emanated from him was undeniable. It dwarfed Morgan’s magic, until Morgan could have been nothing but a lowly street magician, swindling onlookers for coin by sleight-of-hand tricks. He was the greatest wizard in history. He’d seen and done things no other had ever been capable of.

And I had once turned his nose into a cock.

“Randall,” I said, bowing my head in respect. “Your nose looks good.”

Morgan groaned.

Randall narrowed his eyes as he took a step toward me. “Always with the lip, you are. If Morgan hadn’t repeatedly sung your praises over the years, I would have had you up and over my knee a very long time ago.”

“Kinky,” I said. “Buy me dinner first.”

“Sam,” Morgan said. “For the love of the gods, shut your mouth.”

“Sorry,” I said, lowering my eyes. “It’s been… a long trip.”

Randall’s gnarled hand curled over my shoulder and squeezed. I looked up and was surprised to see the smallest bit of kindness in his eyes. So, naturally, his mouth opened and ruined it. “I don’t blame you, boy. If I’d gotten the shaft from my cornerstone, I’d be pissed off too. I don’t know that I’ve ever heard of that happening before to any wizard, so you’re forgiven for your lack of niceties.” His eyes darted over my shoulder briefly and his mouth curled into mischief. “But you stink of elf, so it seems as if you’ve gotten back into the saddle, eh? Good for you.” He chuckled to himself.

“Elf,” came a low growl from behind me. “What. Elf.”

Tags: T.J. Klune Tales From Verania Fantasy
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