“Doesn’t he own full sets of clothing?” Ryan muttered. “No one wants to see any of that.”
Far be it from me to argue with him, even if Ruv was of an attractive sort. I felt that old familiar tug at the sight of him, my magic recognizing him as the potential for something more. But it was muted, distant in comparison with the man standing next to me. It felt almost like an afterthought, the pang of something that could have been and nothing more.
Morgan stood at the opposite end of the labs, looking as tired as I’d ever seen him. Vadoma was standing at his side, hunched over the counter, flipping through—
“Hey!” I snapped, rushing forward. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? That’s my Grimoire!”
She didn’t even try and stop me as I pulled it away from her, slammed it closed, and cradled it against my chest. It wasn’t that I was ashamed about anything in there, but it was private. A wizard’s Grimoire was his legacy to the world, all his accomplishments and triumphs and mistakes written down into one tome for future generations to study when the time came. That didn’t mean I wanted anyone to read it now, especially since I tended to be a bit… descriptive about certain… things.
“That’s not a Grimoire, chava,” she said, sounding disgusted. “That is your diary. You write in pretty pink pen in your diary, little girl?”
“I told you,” Morgan said, an edge to his voice. “Every Grimoire is different. And it’s nothing you would understand, seeing as how you’re not a wizard. Sam is young, and his Grimoire reflects that. But it is still his. Not yours.”
It was almost enough to make me forgive him for being a liar and keeping shit from me for years. Close, but not quite.
“I’m not a wizard,” she agreed. “But I’ve known these books. I know what they hold. That is not the book of a man with a calling. That is the meanderings of a child.”
“I’m not a child.”
“In a corner on one page, you wrote Mrs. Sam Foxheart,” Vadoma said.
“Yes, well, I just wanted to see how it sounded—”
“Seven times.”
“I had to practice my signature, obviously—”
“And surrounded it with hearts.”
“It was romantic!”
“And then you did it on ten more pages.”
“Yeah, I might have gotten a little carried away. I can admit that. I have a problem, okay? But I can change. I’m not addicted to it! I swear!”
“You hear that?” Ryan said to Ruv. “He wants to be my wife. Not yours. Mine. Ryan Foxheart for the win!” He stopped just short of fist-pumping when he started to frown. “Wait a minute. My wife?”
“I trust Sam,” Morgan said, “to do what he’s supposed to do. Yes, he is young. And yes, he is sometimes prone to distraction. But he is still my apprentice. And I will stand by him until the end of my days.”
“Wow,” I said. “That was pretty close to getting you off my shit list. Well played, Morgan. It almost was enough to make up for the fact that you’ve lied to me since you’ve known me.”
“He can also be a vindictive little bastard,” Randall said. “Turned my nose into a penis once, can you believe that? All because I had the temerity to criticize him the barest amounts.”
I scowled at him. “You told me I was a waste of space and that Morgan would be better off with a doorknob as an apprentice.”
“The barest amounts,” Randall repeated.
“It’s a work in progress,” Morgan said to Vadoma. “And if you have as much experience as you claim, then you’ll know that’s how it goes. My own still isn’t completed, and I doubt it ever will be. It’s a living document, something that grows with every life experience.”
“Not the same,” Vadoma said, pointing a finger at Morgan. “You know this. The both of you do. He is not like you. He is not like the others. He is different. And your complacency will either end in his death or all of ours.”
“That certainly sucked the fun out of the room,” I muttered. “We can’t possibly be related.”
She narrowed her eyes at me. “I assure you we are. Even if I couldn’t see the gypsy in your skin, I would know it from the magic that leaks from you with every step you take. The dook you have in your blood is not mine. I have sight. I see the shapes of things to come. Yours is zor. Strength. In the earth. In the heart. But you lack these things. The focus. You are careless. A budjo. A showman, not a shaman. But we are the same, regardless. You have come from Dika. And Dika comes from me. Which means you come from me. And I have known you for a long, long time.”
“I still don’t see what that has to do with—”
“What will you do?” Vadoma asked me. “When your cornerstone dies and you still walk amongst your people? Will you still believe the path you took was of the righteous?”
And that—
That was not okay.
That was never okay.
I took a step forward. “Are you threatening me or Ryan? Because if it was me, I could stand for that. I could deal… with that. But if you’re threatening him, then we’re about to have a fucking problem.”
Her dark eyes flashed with something I didn’t recognize. “You care for him,” she said.
“More than anything.”
“Because he’s yours.”
“And I’m his.”
“For how long?”
I blinked. Because I didn’t— “What do you mean?”
“Yes, Vadoma,” Morgan said, sounding bitchier than I’d ever heard him before. It was really rather remarkable for a man of his age and stature to sound like he was ready to scratch a motherfucker’s eyes out. “What exactly do you mean?”
She didn’t even flinch. Steel balls, that one. I gave her a little more credit than I had at first. If Morgan had used that tone on me, I probably would have been running in the opposite direction.
“I have seen the stars,” she said. “I have followed the bones where they’ve fallen. Unless Sam of Wilds gathers the dragons of Verania, the world will fall into darkness and all will be lost.”
I laughed. “Get the fuck outta here.”
She wasn’t laughing.
Neither was anyone else. Even Ryan looked a little spooked.
“Guys,” I tried. “Look. She’s a fortune-teller. I don’t care what she’s known for. I don’t care where she came from. I don’t care who she is to me. She’s an old kook, and this is bullshit. All of this is bullshit.”
“What did he say to you?” she asked, cocking her head. “When you appeared before him?”
“Who?” I was so done with this shit. Maybe I could get the King to banish her from the City of Lockes and I could go back to living my life the way I wanted it to be. The way I wanted—
“The Great White,” she said softly. “The Father of Dragons. The oldest in all of creation. He who created the world on his back. What did he say to you when you stood before him?”