My most mortal of enemies smiled the long, slow smile of the victorious. Seventeen years old and she was already so inherently evil that any other evil parties in her vicinity paled by comparison. It didn’t help that she had the countenance of an angel. That did a lot to hide the fact that her soul was the rotting, bloated carcass of a fish lying out in the sun for six days.
Gods, how I hated her.
And I really hated the fact that I apparently had just yelled at her in front of at least a hundred people. Not the best idea I’d ever had. Which probably described most of my ideas.
“And that, ladies and gentlemen,” Lady Tina DeSilva said, staring straight at me, “is indicative of the true nature of Sam of Wilds.”
“That wasn’t very nice at all!” someone in the audience cried.
Many others murmured their consent, shooting me looks of such disappointment that I almost felt guilty about it. Guilty about saying something to Lady Tina, of all people.
“No,” Lady Tina said. “It wasn’t. But that’s Sam of Wilds for you in exactly five words: not very nice at all. Perfect, don’t you think?”
The crowd agreed quite vocally.
“Oh my gods,” Gary whispered. “She’s like an evil queen. I want to be her when I grow up and use my powers of persuasion for nefarious purposes.”
“You know,” Mom said, “if I didn’t know any better, I would think this is them pulling each other’s pigtails.”
“Except our son is gay,” Dad said.
“And Lady Tina is an asshole,” Mom said so fiercely that I couldn’t help but love her just a little bit more.
“You are here,” Lady Tina said, snarling into her megaphone, “because you are tired of seeing Sam of Wilds walk all over the good people of Verania. You are tired of hearing about his exploits where he puts our knights in danger or gets members of the royal family taken. You are tired of villains of every shape, size, and color coming to our city just because they have a bone to pick with Sam of Wilds. How many times has your day-to-day life been ruined because Sam picked a fight with the wrong people? How many times are we supposed to bend over and take it, just because Sam of Wilds has somehow fooled your King into believing he is an actual human being instead of the excrement left behind by a pack of sick dogs? How many times are we forced to listen to how perfect Sam is, how wonderful Sam is, how godsdamned special Sam is, just because he enchanted the King’s Wizard with his slippery ways?”
“She’s purpling her prose all over me,” Gary breathed. “She is a master and I am but a pawn in her love game.”
“I do not get slippery with Morgan,” I said, quite loudly. “And I am an actual human being. Oh my gods, why are you even listening to her? Pete! Do something!”
Pete winced as one of the Castle Guards came over and whispered in his ear. “Sorry, Sam,” he said after patting the knight on the shoulder. “Looks like she applied for all the proper permits. She has the right to protest, as long as it remains peaceful.”
“But she’s protesting me.”
“And she’s allowed,” Pete said, sounding apologetic.
“Okay,” I said. “Fine.” I turned toward the King. “Your Majesty, I never ask you for anything.”
“You really don’t,” the King said, sounding amused. “It’s one of the most annoying things about you.”
“Good,” I said. “I’m glad we agree. And we’ll come back to the part where you called me annoying at a later date, don’t think we won’t. I need a favor.”
“Anything within reason,” the King said.
“I need you to behead a teenage girl for me.”
“Hmm. The reason?”
“I hate her.”
“Would it be the same teenage girl that’s saying disparaging things about you currently?”
“Coincidentally? Yes.”
“Sorry, Sam,” the King said, and I couldn’t be too mad at him because he did sound honestly regretful that he couldn’t agree to behead a teenage girl. “I’m going to have to deny your request. But feel free to ask me for anything else.”
“I want to hang the painting I did of you in the throne room.”
“The one where I have three breasts and am a monster destroying Meridian City?”