A Wish Upon the Stars (Tales From Verania 4)

Randall jerked me through the door, raising his hand as it closed behind us. A rush of magic that felt achingly familiar shot from him, and the stone around the doorway collapsed, dust billowing up as the ground shook.

Randall threw me forward and I slammed into Ryan’s chest, his arms coming up around me. I looked up at him. His brow was furrowed, and he held me protectively against his chest as the others gathered around us.

The collapsed doorway began to rumble, and Randall bellowed, “Hold on!”

And then we were sucked through Randall’s magic hole and—

Chapter 12: Nuns Who Commit Armed Robbery Are the Best Kind of Nuns

—LANDED IN a pile of limbs and dirt outside the gates of Camp HaveHeart.

“Motherfucker,” I groaned. “Someone has their foot pressed way too far up my anus, and I am not that kind of man.”

“That’s a total lie,” someone mumbled. I thought it was Justin, and I would have been offended had there not been a little truth to it. Long story.

Shouts started going up inside Camp HaveHeart, but I ignored them in favor of trying to disentangle myself from the wannabe orgy. I started to push myself up but was pulled back down by a rather obstinate knight who didn’t seem willing to let me go.

“I’m okay,” I told him, even though I didn’t know if that was true.

“You’re an idiot,” he whispered, lips pressed against my forehead. “You don’t get to scare me like that. What the hell were you thinking?”

“Honestly? I don’t know if I was.”

“Fool.”

“Probably. But what can you do?”

“You can get off of me,” a voice said from beneath him.

Ryan looked suddenly fearful. “I think I’m lying on top of Randall.”

“You are,” Randall said. “And while this is not the first time that I’ve been on the bottom, my hips don’t move like they used to, and I’d appreciate it if you would get the hell off of me. I haven’t had this much flesh atop me since my days spent with the Luftian quadruplets. They were of a rather garrulous sort, feeling the need to narrate every single little thing they were doing to me—”

“Whyyyyy,” I moaned, even as Ryan shoved me off him with a choked-off scream that I was sure he’d later deny making. “Why must you say these things?”

There was a flap of great wings before the ground rumbled beneath us. A gigantic head peered down at us, dark eyes glittering. “Well now, what do we have here?” Kevin asked, a lecherous grin on his face. “And why was I not invited? Also, as a sidenote, Randall doesn’t appear to be wearing underpants.”

“Ack!” I cried, trying to roll as far away from him as I could. “Why! Why would you do that!”

“I’m old,” Randall muttered. “I’m allowed to do whatever I wish, even if that means not wearing underpants. They are restricting.”

“I’m not a size queen, but hello Randall.”

“Kevin! Not the time!”

“It’s never the time.”

“Yes, but now is so not the time.”

“Oh, well. When you put it that way. Oh look! The King! Hullo, King.”

“Kevin,” the King said, accepting the dragon’s assistance in rising to his feet. “How lovely it is to see your face again.”

“It’s a good face, if I do say so myself.”

“One of the best,” the King agreed. “Now, if we could—”

But whatever else he planned to say was drowned out by cries of joy that poured through the gates as they opened. The people of Camp HaveHeart had seen their King standing before them in one piece, and their emotions overflowed. Almost immediately we were surrounded, people shouting and crying and laughing, reaching in and trying to touch the King’s hands and arms and chest. He took it all with a smile, greeting as many of them as possible, shaking hands and kissing cheeks. Lady Tina, Ryan, and Justin stood at his side, the former two with their weapons drawn and the latter seemingly unwilling to leave his father’s side. I didn’t blame him. I was having a hard time not rushing over to him myself.