“Yes,” they both said, “for the feast.” Totally pimping.
“So many curses,” I mumbled. I hugged them both and promised I’d see them later that night. I turned and headed back into the castle, wondering if I’d have enough time to grab something to eat, but deciding against it in favor of sleep.
So there I was: looking like crap with what I’m sure were large bags under my eyes and dirt smearing my face. Grumbling to myself about parents and Morgan and best friends who got snarky and murdered evil wizards to protect me. Yawning so wide that my jaw cracked.
Of course, since I was looking my absolute worst and talking to myself like a crazy person, I ran into the one person I didn’t want to run into. Ever. Well, that’s a lie. I totally wanted to run into him while I looked absolutely amazing and he’d say something like “Hey, Sam, I have this extraordinary fascination with your equipment. Let’s go somewhere and I’ll show you what it feels like to have your balls worshipped.”
But there was no sexy running-into. There was a flail of limbs and a questionably manly squawk as my face collided with a chest undoubtedly built from pieces of my dreams, and a surprised grunt that fell from lips that angels themselves must have had a hand in creating.
Knight Ryan Foxheart. Soon to be Knight Commander Ryan Foxheart. The dreamiest dream to have ever been dreamed. The current holder of all my masturbatory fantasies. (“Oh, who’s a bad knight? You’re a bad knight. You’ve been so bad that I’m going to joust with your butthole.”)
He said in a surprised voice, “Sam.”
So I said, “Meep,” because apparently Knight Delicious Face knew my name and any and all command of the Veranian language was gone at such an impossible thought. It made me have feelings. Massive, throbbing feelings.
“You okay?” he asked, sounding worried, and I thought that maybe if he had one flaw, it was that his voice wasn’t as deep as what someone of his size and stature should have. But then I remembered that it was the most perfect voice I’d ever heard, and he was always so soft and quiet that it didn’t matter to me in the slightest.
And, of course, that’s when I realized my face was still pressed against his chest because he was a single step above where I stood and that he smelled amazing, like sweat and metal and horses and hay and grass and leaves and fires, and I really needed to stop doing that before we had an inappropriate situation on our hands. So, in a move graced with pitch-perfect dignity, I pulled back sharply, slipped on the stairs, and fell onto the stone ground, knocking my head a bit. Because my life couldn’t get any more embarrassing.
“Holy crap,” Ryan said from somewhere above me.
I opened my eyes and things were slightly fuzzy around the edges. But then my world was filled with the most beautiful green eyes to have ever greened. A lock of hair hung down on his forehead, and I knew I must have been rattled because I was giving very serious consideration to reaching up and brushing it away. I mastered control of my faculties just in time to stop my hand from moving, but that desperate action left all my brain function on my arm and away from my mouth. Which is the only explanation for why I said in a breathy whisper, “You are way too pretty to exist in this world with us mere mortals.” I somehow managed to stop myself from calling him Knight Delicious Face. It was close.
And he smiled. Like I had amused him. There were full-on white teeth just inches from my face, and the corners of his eyes crinkled so endearingly that I wanted to wax poetically about his every feature so that he’d smile at me for the rest of our lives. Bards would be singing his praises for centuries by the time I was done with him.
“Think you hit your head,” he said, and I felt his breath on my face. He must have had eggs and coffee for breakfast and there is no reason why that smell should have been as hot as it was. I would never be able to have that combination again without going full mast. He had ruined breakfast for me forever.
And we just stared at each other, faces so close. I was a magical being, so I had no qualms admitting that the moment was magical.
Which is why it ended less than seven seconds later when another voice said, “There you are. I’ve been looking all over for you. What the hell are you doing on the floor?”
I closed my eyes and reminded myse
lf of my place.
Because I had a place.
And it most certainly wasn’t near the level of the man behind Ryan.
Prince Justin descended the stairs.
Prince Justin, the King’s only son.
Prince Justin, the future King for whom I would serve as the King’s Wizard.
Prince Justin, who looked like he was carved from marble by the loving hands of a true artist. All severe lines and planes and muscle and perfectly coifed brown curls that fell ever so elegantly across his head as if they had nothing better to do than make sure Prince Justin looked better than anyone else.
Prince Justin, Ryan Foxheart’s boyfriend.
Prince Justin, who abhorred me.
“Well, look who it is,” Justin said, sounding like he’d just stepped in a pile of dog shit. “Surprise, surprise. Another fine mess you’ve got yourself into, eh, Sam? The stories we hear about your negligence are just astounding.”
I opened my eyes and Ryan was still above me, but the smile was gone, replaced by a frown. I wanted to tell him to bring the eye-crinkles back because they were so nice, but I somehow managed to keep that little tidbit to myself. Justin could have me executed. And if there is one thing I didn’t want, it was to be executed.
“Leave him alone, Justin,” Ryan said. “It was my fault. I wasn’t watching where I was going.”
And that was a big fat lie. Which was awesome.