I felt a big hand on the back of my neck as Joshua Haversford, my father, leaned forward, pressing his forehead near my ear. “Hello, Sam,” he said in that big voice of his.
“Hi, Dad,” I managed to say.
And it was good.
I COULDN’T sleep.
It was strange. We’d been on the road for ages, staying in taverns when we could but mostly camping out on the side of the road upon thin blankets as we dozed around a fire, our stomachs grumbling with hunger.
But here I was in my bed, full from a feast in our honor, not having to worry about waking up in a few hours to take my turn on watch, and I was wide-awake, staring at the ceiling.
Ryan was curled next to me, snoring lightly on my shoulder, his legs tangled with mine, arm thrown over my chest. His hair was longer than it’d been for some time, and I knew it’d most likely be shorn off the very next day, bright and early, along with his epic adventure beard, before he met with his knights. They’d line up for his inspection, and he’d have a hardened expression on his face. He’d bark orders at them, growl at them for smudges on their armor or the dullness of their blades. They’d stare straight ahead while he berated them, but they would all know it was an act. He would be happy to be standing in front of his knights again, and they’d be thrilled to have their commander back.
He deserved it.
And he obviously had no problem sleeping, if the drool on my shoulder meant anything.
I closed my eyes again, trying to clear my mind, focusing on the sounds of the castle.
I opened them again minutes later.
I sighed and slid out from underneath Ryan, careful not to wake him.
He rolled over onto my pillow, smacking his lips and sighing. I leaned down and pressed a kiss against his cheek.
He slept on.
The halls of Castle Lockes were mostly empty. I nodded at the knights who stood guard in various entryways, but didn’t stop to talk to them. I was too busy sorting through the tangled web in my head, trying to find a thread to start with, to tug on to see where it would lead me.
I found myself in the gardens, the stars shining down upon me. They didn’t mean to me what they had when I was a child, or even a year ago. Not with everything I knew now. I couldn’t see myself wishing upon them, or at least not in the way I used to. Knowing that the gods were actually listening to me but doing nothing but shuffling me as a pawn upon their cosmic board took a bit of the magic away.
I walked through the plants and flowers until I came upon the hidden entrance toward the rear that led to my mother’s secret garden. I hadn’t been back here in a long time, not since that night before Ryan’s wedding to Justin when I told him that he was my lightning-struck heart, that I thought I loved him. Everything that had followed had been a whirlwind, and I’d been caught up in it.
I pushed my way into the secret garden and—
“My King?”
Good King Anthony of Verania sat on a bench my father had made for my mother, a lantern lit next to him, a book sitting unread on his lap.
“Sam,” he said, mustache twitching as he gave me a small smile. “It is rather late. After all the excitement, I would have thought you’d have dropped off to sleep immediately.”
I shrugged, playing with the hem of my tunic. “Me too. But you know how it goes.”
He nodded sagely. “I do. But mine comes with the curse of age, something you should not be experiencing for quite a long time to come.”
“I suppose.”
He patted the bench beside him. “Come, Sam. I would have you sit with me. It’s been a long while since I’ve had some alone time with you.”
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“At least buy me dinner first, Your Majesty,” I teased him as I stepped toward the bench.
He rolled his eyes fondly. “Sit your ass down, Sam.”
I did. He put his arm around me, and I laid my head upon his shoulder. We sat quietly for a while, watching the fireflies dancing in my mother’s garden. Instead of trying to think of everything, I thought of nothing at all, allowing myself to just breathe.
The King spoke first. “Justin told me of your adventures.”