The Consumption of Magic (Tales From Verania 3)

“Probably. But it’ll be even worse to keep it as it is. I’ve dislocated my shoulder a few times. Trust me when I say it’ll feel better once it’s set.”

“You don’t need to try and impress me. You’ve already got me.”

“What? I wasn’t trying to—oh shut up, Sam.”

“Dude,” I said, grinning at him. “I’m glad you’re here.”

He rolled his eyes, but his hand tightened in mine.

But before Ryan could pull me away, something happened that I did not expect.

Pat said, “Wizard, it is an honor to stand before you again, especially to see you still healthy and whole.”

&nb

sp; And Randall said, “The honor is mine,” as he bowed low.

I narrowed my eyes. “You know him? And what do you mean healthy?”

Randall sighed.

Leslie blinked. “But of course. He is Randall of Dragons.”

“He served the Master,” Pat said.

“The Master,” I repeated.

“The one you know as the Great White,” Pat said, as if it were the simplest thing in the world.

“Oooh,” Gary said. “Twist. Draaaamaaaaa.”

I turned slowly toward Randall, who looked particularly grumpy. “Randall,” I said as evenly as possible. “Another secret? I thought we were past all of that.”

Randall smiled sweetly at me. He glanced between Ryan and me, and even before he opened his mouth, I knew what he was going to say. “Speaking of secrets, Sam, isn’t it time you share a few of your own with your friends? I should think they would be very interested to know what it is you’ve seen while they seemingly stood by your side.”

I gaped at him.

He arched an eyebrow at me.

“What’s happening?” Tiggy whispered to Gary.

“I think we’re about to get some revelations all up in this bitch,” Gary whispered back. “And if the look on Sam’s face is indicative of anything, this is going to be amazing. And probably cause unnecessary angst that will cause a division between our heroes. I am excited.”

“Sam?” Ryan asked. “What’s Randall talking about?”

Chapter 14: The Truth

I WAS right. Having your shoulder reset sucked. Especially when my bitch-ass motherfucker of a knight told me he’d count to three and then instead jerked my arm on one, snapping it back into its socket. I screamed, but the relief was almost immediate. I blinked away the burn in my eyes, wincing at the twinges that went up and down my arm.

“I hate you so much right now,” I mumbled, grimacing as he slid my arm through a quickly fashioned sling.

“Somehow, I think you don’t,” he said mildly. “I wonder why that is. You’ll need to keep this on for a couple of weeks.”

I frowned. “But this is my hand-job hand.”

He snorted. “I’m sure you’ll survive.”

“Yes, but will you? I mean, your hands still work, so you’ll be able to touch my penis—”