A Destiny of Dragons (Tales From Verania 2)

“I didn’t punch any babies!”

“I can vouch for that,” Gary said. “I have never seen Sam punch a baby.”

“Thank you, Gary,” I said.

“But,” Gary said, “I’m not with him all the time, so for all I know, he’s a secret serial baby puncher and I’m protecting a madman who commits unthinkable crimes.”

“I will put my foot up your ass,” I growled at him.

Gary’s eyes went wide as he pranced beautifully behind Tiggy. “Everyone, watch out! His baby-punching rage is forthcoming. Hide your children! Keep them safe!”

“This is the greatest day ever,” Justin said, looking rather pleased at the situation. I knew that, as my best friend, he would totally defend me, but as the Prince of Verania, he had to listen to his people and they came first. So of course he looked happy about this. He had to front, even though it was probably tearing him up on the inside.

There was a crowd starting to gather around the protesters, people whispering to each other, pointing at us. Though I suppose we weren’t very inconspicuous, seeing as we had a thirty-foot dragon standing behind us, wings folded at the sides so he didn’t scrape against the brick of the buildings that lined the streets. It probably didn’t help either that I was shirtless, my skin still covered in Vadoma’s runes, which were now smeared and flaking, my hair sticking up every which way. I probably looked like I’d just come from a sacrificial orgy where I’d punched at least seven babies and taken four virginities to sate my carnal cravings.

Ryan squeezed my arm and went to the outskirts of the crowd, saying something that I couldn’t hear over the din of the protesters.

“Fuck my life,” I muttered.

“Indeed,” Randall said. “I concur. Fuck your life, because this is getting ridiculous.”

I couldn’t even disagree with him. That was the sad part.

“I thought everyone loved Sam,” Kevin said. “Isn’t it supposed to be one of the biggest complaints about him? That he can charm even the blackest hearts until they are tripping all over him?”

“Yes,” Gary said. “That and the fact that he never shuts up, is immature, and makes everything a joke that usually revolves around sex. Okay, I just realized that describes me, and since I’m amazing, Sam must be too. Sam. Yoo-hoo! Sam.”

“What, Gary,” I said through gritted teeth.

“You’re amazing.”

“Thank you, Gary.”

“You’re welcome. Gosh, I feel good. Don’t you all feel good and in love with Sam again?”

“Hey, hey, ha, ha! Let’s go punch Sam in the jaw!”

“Oh,” Gary said. “That was unfortunate timing.”

“Hey, hey, he, he! Shoot an arrow into his knee!”

“They’re so violent,” Gary said. “Gives me the tingles in my nether regions.”

“Hey, hey, hu, hu! Let’s go kick him in the tooth!”

“That didn’t even rhyme,” Gary said. “But at least they’ve run out of vowels now.”

“Hey, hey, har, har, put his heart into a jar!”

“Apparently they don’t need just vowels,” Gary said.

Ryan came back, clutching a piece of parchment, brow furrowed in that way he sometimes got when he wanted to kill something or someone but couldn’t find the thing or person he wanted to kill. I called it his murder eyebrows. I thought it was adorable. He didn’t think it was funny that I equated his eyebrows with death.

(But it was.)

“I’ll find you something or someone to kill,” I said, because I loved him so. “Like a deer or an assassin. I know you need to feel the sweet release of stabbing something with your sword.”

He scowled at me. “Stuff like that is probably the reason these people are afraid of you.”