I pushed the thoughts away. There was still much I had to do and a short time with which to do it. I shoved my Grimoire into my pack and hoisted it on my shoulder. I turned and gave him a nod, trying to keep the surprise off my face to see him by himself, no Randall in sight.
Morgan himself had a carefully blank expression, betraying nothing. I’d seen him with the same look when dealing with unruly heads of state, knowing his countenance didn’t give away just how much of a dumbass he thought they were. Whether or not he was thinking the same thing about me, I didn’t care. I needed to leave. I was angry at him. Very angry. It was deeply unsettling, because I’d never been that way with him before.
I forced myself to meet his gaze before heading for the door. Part of me screamed to turn around, to get everything off my chest, to never say goodbye without actually saying goodbye, but I didn’t. I reached the door. It felt like I was vibrating. I put my hand on the knob. I turned it. The lock clicked and— “He wasn’t always bad,” Morgan said quietly. “My brother.”
I stopped. Tried to breathe through it.
“He was… smart. Strong willed. Vibrant. A sense of humor like you wouldn’t believe. Everyone was charmed by him. He wasn’t afraid to step on people if it meant getting what he wanted, but he would always make sure to apologize for doing so. And the difference between him and others is that he would be sincere about it. If he did you wrong, he was genuinely sorry about it.”
I let go of the door but didn’t turn around.
“He was older than me,” Morgan continued. “By centuries. Our parents were… difficult, to say the least. More obsessed with furthering their magic than caring about their sons. They regretted us, I think. Or, rather, they were indifferent toward us. I don’t believe they meant for Myrin to happen. They certainly didn’t mean for me to happen, but sometimes, fate and magic have minds of their own, and when they intertwine, the results can be… unexpected.”
“How is he Randall’s cornerstone?” I asked begrudgingly. I didn’t want to acknowledge any of it, but that question had been bugging me almost as much as why Morgan had kept what he did from me and what had happened to Myrin in the first place.
“Randall’s… different.”
“No shit.”
“Like you’re different.”
I whirled around at that. “Are you comparing me to him?” I suppose it could have been a compliment to anyone else, but it was Randall. This was not a compliment to me.
He shrugged, face still blank. “It’s not an off comparison. A wizard builds, Sam. That’s what magic is. That’s what the cornerstone is for. But even before you can build, you must design. You can’t just start putting the blocks together without a coherent plan to do so. The results could be…. Well. That’s what the Darks are. People who will not invest the time needed to follow the true path of magic. They are impatient. Cut corners. They burn out parts of their hearts and soul just to have a taste of magic on their tongue.”
“I don’t see what that has to do with Randall. Or me.”
He drummed his fingers along the countertop. “Of course you don’t. Because you don’t see the big picture. You think of here. Of now. Not decades down the road.”
“Maybe because parts of it have been hidden from me,” I snapped.
And there it was, the barest of flinches, the smallest of cracks in the mask. I knew he wasn’t indifferent to all this. I knew that. Morgan loved me, maybe more than anyone else in the world. That wasn’t in question.
But he had lied. He had withheld the truth from me. I’d trusted him, and maybe part of me still did. I trusted him to protect the King and Justin. I trusted him to protect my parents. And Tiggy and Gary and Ryan. I trusted him to protect me. But everything else?
I didn’t know anymore.
“There are reasons, Sam,” he said. “For everything. Even if you’re angry at me now, and even if you don’t understand, there are reasons for everything I do.”
“You didn’t choose me,” I said. “I always thought you had. But you didn’t. I was forced upon you by some crazy lady from the desert. That’s all this ever was. And to make it worse, you left us to wallow in the slums. You could have come for us earlier. You didn’t. Do you know how many times my parents went hungry just so I could be fed? How many times I heard my mother crying at night because she thought she had failed me?”
The mask cracked further. He took a step toward me, made an aborted motion to reach out for me. Instead, his hand fell to his side and curled into a fist. “I was wrong,” he said. “And for that, I’m sorry. I didn’t know what to do. Randall was… adamant. That we let your life unfold as naturally as possible before needing to intervene. He thought it would build your character, that it would make you a better person. And while I don’t disagree, I believe you should have been given more. And it is my fault that didn’t happen. I should have fought harder. I am imperfect, Sam. No matter what you may have thought about me before. I am to blame as much as Randall is. If not more.”
“Why? Why did he think that? Why would Randall put me through that?”
“Myrin,” Morgan said. “Randall thought mistakes made in the past could be avoided in the future. He designed his magic, Sam. For centuries. More than anyone else has ever done before. And when it was time to find his cornerstone, he didn’t have to look very far.”
“What does that have to do with me?”
“You’re like him in that you’re different. But where he created design after design after design, your magic was already within you. What you did that day in the alley so very long ago should have been impossible. The design of your magic was at levels far beyond what I or Myrin or even Randall ever had. Which is why finding your cornerstone when you did, at an age so young, was the right path meant for you. It was the only path meant for you. It wasn’t just fate, Sam. It was necessary.”
“And if I hadn’t found him?” I asked, jaw tense. “If I hadn’t found Ryan? Would you have pawned me off on Ruv when Vadoma came for me?”
He hesitated. “I would have laid out your options.”
I snorted. “It’s a good thing that I made my own choices, then.”
“Yes, Sam. It is.”
“I’m so angry, Morgan.”
“I know.”
“At Randall. At you. At Vadoma. This is my life that you all meddled in.”
“I know.”
“Do you?” I spat at him.
He looked older than I’d ever seen him before. “Every choice I’ve made, whether good or bad, has always been with your best interest in mind. Yes, I knew of you before. Yes, I could have done more. Yes, this impossible situation feels like our hand was forced. But Sam, I chose to love you as I do because of who you are, not who you were supposed to be. I love you because you mean the world to me. You have always been the joy that is in my heart.”
“Godsdammit,” I said, wiping my eyes. “That is so unfair. You manipulative bastard. Hitting me right in the feels.”
There was a small smile on his face. “Is it working?”
“Maybe. I’m still mad.”
“I know.”