“Oh boy,” Morgan muttered.
“Knight Commander,” Randall said. “Do you know who I am?”
Ryan looked confused. “Um. Randall?”
“That’s right. So maybe check your tone.”
Ryan blanched at that. “Please don’t make my nipples explode.”
“Hey!” Morgan said. “He can’t do that. That’s my—oh.” He sighed. “That’s right. That’s not a thing anyone does.”
“I still can’t believe people still say that,” I said. “Gods, the stories that will be told about me two hundred years from now are going to be amazing.”
“What does he mean, Sam?” Ryan asked, looking worried. “Where are you going?”
“Castle Freesias,” I said, feeling grumpy at the thought. “Except I’m going to be transported there by Randall’s sucking hole and you’re going to walk there with the others. And gods, I really need to work on my phrasing. That sounded terrible. Like Randall would suck me up with his—”
“You’re really not my type,” Randall said. “I like my partners more… well. Not you.”
I gasped dramatically as I brought my hand to my forehead. “Whatever shall I do? My dream of breaking off a piece of that has just imploded. Life will never be the same.”
Ryan’s jaw tensed, and his lips became a thin slash across his face. “I’m his cornerstone. Do you really think it’s a good idea to separate us?”
“You tell them, babe.”
“Not helping.”
“Positive reinforcement always helps,” I told him. “Don’t lie. You feel good about yourself. It’s what I’m here for.”
He rolled his eyes, but I could tell he was pleased. The sap.
“It’s not only a good idea,” Randall said, “it’s the only idea. Sam has escalated. It’s time for me to teach him control.”
“You’re not his mentor,” Ryan said. “Morgan is. Why would you need to teach him anything?”
Randall cocked his head at Ryan.
Ryan blanched. “Uh. Why would you need to teach him anything, my lord head wizard Randall. Please don’t melt my face off.”
“Kiss-ass,” I muttered.
“I like you,” Randall said. “For now.”
“Eep,” Ryan said.
“You’re a knight commander,” I hissed at him. “Find your balls, Foxheart!”
Ryan squared his shoulders and put his hand on the hilt of his sword. He looked so dashing and immaculate that I gave very serious consideration to taking him right then and there, audience be damned. Somehow I restrained myself.
He said, “I would have you know that I disagree with this course of action.”
“Noted,” Randall said. “Overruled.”
I waited for Ryan’s next devastating attack, either with words or his sword. I didn’t care which.
(I preferred the sword.)
But nothing came.