A Wish Upon the Stars (Tales From Verania 4)

“There were,” the King said, stepping away from Randall. “But they were taken and put to work in the City. They thought if my people were down here with me, they’d try to work in collusion with me to plan a coup.”

“And did you?” I asked, wiping my face.

The King nodded. “Almost got away with it too. But someone overheard us, and that was that. So I bided my time, kept my wits about me, and waited.”

“For?”

The King blinked at me. “You, of course.”

“But how could you—”

“I always knew you’d come back,” the King said, clasping a hand on my shoulder. “And even if it wasn’t with you, I knew Justin would come for me. Because if the roles were reversed, there would be nothing to stop me from getting to him. So I waited.”

Justin looked surprised at his father’s declaration. “Dad,” he said.

The King smiled quietly at his son. “So imagine my surprise when Randall of all people showed up. Not who I was expecting, but still. And then all of you came, and I figured the gods must be smiling down upon me this night.”

“Yes, yes,” Randall said crossly. “As touching as this is, it would be prudent if you all shut your mouths and moved your keisters.”

Keisters, I mouthed through my tears.

“Now, Sam, dry your eyes. If you’re a wizard now as you claim to be, you don’t have time for feelings.”

“I’m so happy we’re all together again,” the King said. “Once I vanquish all of our enemies and restore Verania to its shining glory, I think I shall throw a gala to honor you all. Besides, I do love parties so.”

“So kingly,” I breathed.

Randall picked up a pack I hadn’t noticed before resting near the cell door. He opened the top and started rooting through it, muttering under his breath about the incompetence of those around him, but there was a rough fondness to it, so I let it go.

I was about to turn back toward the King to gaze upon his glory when I saw something rising from the pack out of the corner of my eye.

The others were distracted, so they didn’t see what I did.

A little rainbow crackling with brightly colored sparks.

It disappeared as Randall covered it with a thin metal mesh.

No. Fucking. Way. “That’s—”

Randall’s gaze snapped up to me. His voice was low when he spoke. “Not another word, Sam.”

“But—”

“Sam.”

I nodded, as much as it hurt to do so. He was right. We had to get the hell out of the castle. Even if he appeared to have a most wondrous treasure hidden away in his pack.

He pulled another hooded cloak from his pack and handed it to the King. “Put this on. It’ll do until we can escape.”

“Can’t you just suck us through your magic hole?” I asked. Then, “Gods, you would think my phrasing would get better as I get older. How disappointing.”

He shouldered his pack as the King wrapped the cloak around his shoulders. “I often find myself disappointed with you, so it’s nothing new. You had to have noticed the dampening wards placed throughout the castle. Myrin appears to have absolute control of the Darks. I don’t have the time to break his wards, and I don’t have the strength to burst through them. Not without needing time to recover. And time is something we don’t have.”

I frowned. “I didn’t feel anything like that.”

Randall stared at me before he sighed. “Of course you didn’t. Yet another thing Sam of Wilds inexplicably can do.”

“Sam of Dragons.”