“Speak louder!” someone shouted. “I can’t hear you, and I want to dissect your every word for truthfulness and validity!”
Great. No pressure. How did the King and Justin do this? How did Morgan when he— Morgan. It always came back to him, didn’t it?
He was where it started. And he was where it’d ended. The last these people had seen of me had been the day Morgan of Shadows had been laid to rest.
Always him.
I said, “I was just a boy. From the slums. I woke up every day knowing I was loved. Knowing I had a roof over my head, even if it leaked sometimes. That I had two people who loved me more than anything in the world. And it was good. It was good, because I was taught to be thankful for what I had.
“But some days were hard. Some days we went to bed hungry, and I could hear my mom crying through the wall and my dad telling her that it’d be okay, that as long as we were together, we’d figure it out. Those were the days when I’d lay in my bed and look up through the little window in my room. If I craned my neck just right, I could see the sky and the stars, and I… wished sometimes. They weren’t anything special, just the wishes of a kid who wanted his mom to be happy and his dad to be healthy. I wished to be someone great one day. But not just for myself. I didn’t want it for myself. I wanted it for them. Because I—”
I shook my head. “I don’t know if wishes work. I don’t know if the gods hear them. Consider them. Discard them or make them so. If it’s a frivolous thing or if it’s something we all must do. But I did it anyway, because I was a child who believed the world was a bright and wonderful place. And whether it was my wishes, or whether it was the gods themselves, he came for me. He told me that I was meant for something greater, something more, and that I—I don’t. I don’t know that it mattered. What he kept from me. What he knew even before I was born. You’ve heard of the… prophecy. Much has probably been made of it. It’s been twisted into something unrecognizable by people who wanted nothing more than to bring me to my knees.”
Lady Tina looked down at the table. Vadoma stared straight at me.
“I don’t… like. The word. Destiny. Because it means I don’t have a choice. That my decisions don’t matter. That everything I’ve done in my life has been preordained by higher powers, moving me like a chess piece across a board. That who I am, what I’ve become, was set in stone long before I was even a conscious thought.
“Stone, though. It crumbles. A friend taught me that. And Morgan was doing what he thought was right—and maybe it was. Or maybe it wasn’t, but it doesn’t matter in the end. I was angry with him. For a long time. For what I thought was a betrayal. But it’s different now. Because regardless of his actions, regardless of what he kept from me, I know one thing to be true with all of my heart: Morgan of Shadows loved me. He loved me and wanted nothing more than to keep me safe. Much like he loved all of you. Much like he loved Verania.”
I sniffled as I wiped my eyes. “He’s gone now. And not because of the actions of anyone here. Not because of anything you did, or I did, or—just.”
Lady Tina’s shoulders were shaking.
“But because of his brother.”
The crowd sighed.
“Because of Randall’s cornerstone.”
They bowed their heads. All except for Justin and Ryan, who stood side by side, watching me with fierce pride.
I took a deep breath. “It was Myrin. He took Morgan from me. From us. He took our homes and our towns and our cities. He took our friends and our families. Once, he was good. And kind. He was loved. But he let himself become mired in shadow and chose a path that led to the darkening of his magic. He was stopped, once. For a time. But he returned and took and took and took from all of us. And I ran.”
Everyone was silent.
“He took Morgan from me. And I couldn’t do anything to stop it. I tried. Please. You have to believe me when I say I tried. I have this… heart, this lighting-struck heart that beats in my chest, and I would have gladly given it up if it meant Morgan could still be… here. With all of you. That day, in that house, Myrin took from all of us, but I could only focus on what he took from me. My cornerstone was terribly wounded, I’d been betrayed by people I didn’t expect, Randall was gone, and Morgan was….
“I ran. Even if it had been expected of me, even if the only way I could have fulfilled my destiny was to enter the Dark Woods with the dragons of Verania, I still had a choice. I could have stayed. And fought by your side. Done what I could to make sure you knew that it would be okay again one day. Maybe if I’d stayed, things would be different. We’d be… and the King would still—”
Movement caught my eye. A man pushing his way through the crowd toward the front, but not to me.
“And for that, I’m sorry.”
The people of Camp HaveHeart breathed as one.
“I’m sorry I left you to deal with this on your own. The King asked me to be his Wizard, and I took his hand, a promise made that I did not keep. I should have done more. I should have been better. I should have—okay, you know what, dude? I can totally see what you’re about to do, so you might as well stop right now. I’m being super emotional up here, pouring out my heart and shit, and I’m not in the mood for whatever shenanigans you’re about to try. And notice how I said try. Because if you take one more step, I’m going to kick your motherfucking ass like you wouldn’t believe.”
The crowd was startled, looking around wildly.
The knights tensed in front of the stage.
Ryan pulled his sword, and Tiggy cracked his knuckles.
Gary started raining glitter, and a curl of smoke twisted up from Kevin’s nostrils.
The green and gold were there, stronger than ever.
The man didn’t hesitate. I saw the glitter of a knife as he started running toward Justin.
I sighed even as people began to shout.
I raised my hand, palm out, and snapped it closed into a fist.
It was done without the use of the ancient tongue.
Effortless, really.
The ground around the man shifted and broke apart, rock rising from the earth and wrapping around his arms and legs even before he could take another step. It was over in a matter of seconds, people shouting out in warning as they moved away from him.
Ryan was snarling as he pointed his sword at the man’s throat, Justin being pulled away by my parents and surrounded by the knights, their weapons drawn.
“Godsdammit,” I said. “You know how hard that was to be all profound? I mean, I was pouring out my soul on this stage. I don’t even like public speaking! And the Prince had just called me his best friend 5eva, and I was going to fucking wreck my boyfriend later, and it was going to be a good night for all of us—”
“Maybe not the time,” Ryan said through gritted teeth, the tip of his sword pressing against the soft skin of the would-be assassin’s throat. Only the man’s head and throat were exposed, the rest of him covered in rock.
“Right,” I said. “Not the time. Still, if I ever have to give a rousing speech again, I’m always going to think about how this guy ruined my first time.”
“He’s so self-aware,” Gary said to Tiggy. “I taught him that.”
“Very proud,” Tiggy growled, punching a fist into his other hand threateningly.
“Myrin knows you’ve returned,” the man gasped defiantly. “There is nothing you can do to stop him. He is expecting you now. You will not win. The time of the Darks has come, and we are—”
Ryan sighed. “Did you really have to say that? Gods, you all have to know by now how he feels about—”
“Monologuing,” I exclaimed. “You just tried to kill the Prince, and you’re monologuing? Oh my gods, I am going to explode your fucking nipples so hard, you don’t even know. You want the Flora Bora Slam, motherfucker? Because you got it. Gary! Tiggy! Hold me back before I kill every part of his body!”