LEFT AND Right didn’t have much else to say as they led us farther into the city. The people still stared as we passed, but they kept their mouths shut and averted their eyes anytime Kevin or Gary glared at them. Tiggy kept right at my heels and snarled at everything, like he was daring anyone to even look at me wrong. Ryan walked at my side, hand gripped in mine. I could almost pretend that everything was fine, that everything was normal, but when had any part of my life ever been normal?
That was slightly distressing.
We were in what had to be the middle of Mashallaha, the water below us crystal clear, the walkways shaded by palm trees, when Left and Right slowed to a stop. Ahead of us was what appeared to be four large carriages stacked atop each other. All the wheels were gone, and they looked to have been repurposed as a residence instead of part of a caravan. The carriages were stacked purposefully at odd angles, the middle jutting out to the left, the top facing toward the right. A wooden staircase wrapped around the outside of the dwelling, with a landing at each carriage house. Wind chimes hung over the bottom doorway, loud and obnoxious in the breeze. The door to the lowest carriage was a bright yellow, strange symbols carved into the wood.
It was loud and gaudy and over the top.
I loved it.
“Uh-oh,” Gary said.
“What?” Ryan asked.
“Sam has that look on his face.”
“What look?”
“We should live here,” I said, ignoring the both of them. “Make this exact same house back at Castle Lockes and live in it forever.”
“The crazy-eyed look he gets when he sees something kitschy and needs to own it,” Gary sighed. “I blame his fairy drag mother. Mama always said Sam had an inner drag queen, just waiting to burst free. You s
hould have seen him the day he discovered how to make his own feather boas. Those poor, poor ducks.”
“Sam,” Ryan said, touching me on the shoulder. “We’re not going to live in a replica of this house ever.”
I gave him a wounded look. My bottom lip trembled. “But… I’ve been dreaming of this for the last forty seconds.”
“Don’t you give me that look,” Ryan warned me. “I swear to the gods, it’s not going to work this time.”
“It gonna work this time,” Tiggy whispered to Gary.
“It always does, kitten. We’ve taught him well.”
“We’ll talk about it later,” Ryan said, foolishly trying to hold on to his convictions. He should have known better by now. I would never let this go.
“Yeah, good luck with that,” Gary said. “Guarantee you’ll be living in your own gypsy palace a week after we get back.”
“Two weeks,” I said. “At most.”
“Can we focus on the whole saving-the-world thing first?” Ryan asked. “Because I feel like that should be our priority.”
“Gods,” I muttered. “You’re such a knight sometimes.”
“And just what the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Such a knight,” Tiggy said. “Calm your tits, Knight Delicious Face.”
Before we could go any further (and knowing us, this conversation would have probably gone on for at least another hour), the yellow door opened, and out stepped Ruv, the Wolf of Bari Lavuta.
“Does he always have to be shirtless?” Ryan asked. “Does he own shirts? I can give him one of mine. Probably would be too big on him. Because I’m bigger than he is. So my shirts would be too.”
“It’s embarrassing to witness, isn’t it?” Gary said to Tiggy.
“No self-awareness,” Tiggy agreed.
“Sam,” Ruv said, a small smile on his face. “Welcome home. I hope the journey was an uneventful one. Mashallaha is honored to have you here.”
“I have bunions,” Gary said. “On my hooves. It was not uneventful. If anything, it was an event. I demand retribution because of—welcome home? Oh, no. No, no, no. I’m onto you, exotic twink. Don’t think that I’m not.”