The Lightning-Struck Heart (65 page)

And unfortunately, I was a part of that magic.

I didn’t have to do much. My job was to stand up in front and look pretty next to Morgan and keep my mouth shut. The King would speak, and Randall would speak, and then the ceremony would happen and everyone would live happily ever after.

I might have put far more puce than was actually necessary.

The King must have seen my artistic outlet for what it was and asked, “Are you okay, Sam?”

“Of course,” I said.

“I’ve known you a long time.”

“You have,” I agreed.

“I know you very well. Better than most.”

“You do.”

“I’m glad you agree. So then maybe you can also agree that I can tell when you’re lying.”

“Drama king,” I muttered.

He turned to look at me.

“Stop moving!” I snapped at him. “You’ll ruin the painting and no one will forgive you because this is a masterpiece that will be treasured for generations.”

“Normally, I would only feel the need to encourage any pursuit you feel is necessary,” he said. “I don’t know that art is one of them.”

“You say that only because you haven’t seen this yet.”

“How many breasts do I have in your painting?”

“Three.”

“And how many do I have in real life?”

“What? You don’t have any—oh, I see what you did there. It’s called artistic license.”

“Sam.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not. And it’s okay not to be.”

“Thanks. I wouldn’t have known that otherwise.” I winced. “Sorry. That came out wrong.”

His lips twitched. “You could be pooping in buckets for taking that tone with me.”

“Yeah, yeah. You’re the mighty King and all that.”

“I could even have your head.”

“Sure. Because
that’s
a thing you do.”

“Could see a return of it. A good old-fashioned beheading in the courtyard.”

“My blood would cause a revolution.”

He smiled, looking far less regal and all the more awesome. “Of that I have no doubt.”

He watched me and waited. He knew me very well.

I sighed. “I’m fine. Or, I will be.”

“Will you?”

I put down the paintbrush. “I will. Because there’s no other alternative.”

“There is,” he said. “You can be not fine. That is something you’re allowed to do.”

“Is it?”

“Yes.”

I took a step around the easel so he wouldn’t come toward me and be able to see the work in progress that would be hailed for centuries as a modern marvel. He watched me approach with curious eyes. He was smart, my King. “I have to be.”

“Why?”

“Because if I’m not, I’m of no use to anyone. And if I’m of no use to anyone, then I might as well be back in the slums.”

He shook his head. “Sam, how can you possibly think it’s not okay for you to
not
be okay?”

“Because I’m Sam of Wilds,” I said, though it was beginning to sound like an excuse. “I’m always okay.”

He stepped down from the platform where he’d been posing for me. His hands came down onto my shoulders and gripped me tight. He said, “You’re Sam of Wilds. But you’re also human.”

“I know.”

“You don’t have to have the answers to everything.”

“I know.”

“Do you?”

I rolled my eyes.

“I worry about you, sometimes,” he admitted.

“Why?”

“Because you’ve built up this shell around yourself. This exterior made up of sass and wordplay. You wear your heart on your sleeve, but you’ve disguised it so that only those that are close to you can ever hope of seeing it. You show so much without actually showing anything at all.”

I swallowed past the lump in my throat. “That your expert opinion, doctor?” I asked, cringing as soon as the words left my lips.

“Sam,” he admonished lightly.

“Sorry,” I muttered, looking away.

“I would fix this for you if I could.”

“Would you? Because that would be at the expense of your son.”

He looked troubled at this. He appeared to choose his next words carefully. “I don’t know that Justin is in this for the same reason you are.”

“I’m not in anything. That much has been made clear.” I almost told him about what Justin had said at the dragon’s keep, about feeling he was trapped in the shadow of his father and myself, that he’d felt forced to make a decision. But it wasn’t my place. I could not speak for the Prince. Whatever issues there were between them were just that: between
them
. Not me. The King had already told me he could do nothing to break the oath Ryan had sworn to Justin, much like no one else could break the oath that Ryan had to the King.

I really fucking hated oaths.

The King said, “I don’t—”

“Did you
paint
this?” an incredulous voice asked from behind us.

I turned and looked over my shoulder.

Ryan stood in front of the easel, looking horrifyingly amused as he studied my painting. I hadn’t seen him since the night of his bachelor party a few days before. His hair had been cut in advance of the wedding, looking more regal and coifed versus his usual floppy mane. He still appeared exhausted, but he was biting his bottom lip and I realized he was trying not to laugh.

I narrowed my eyes at him because the last time I checked, he was
not
an art critic.

“Yes,” I said. “It is a work in progress. You can’t judge it until it’s completed.”

“Oh,” he said. “I’m not judging.”

“Uh. Hello. I have eyes and I can see your face. You are so judging.”

“No, no,” he said innocently, eyes wide. “I would never think to judge something of this… caliber. There’s a lot of… red.”

“It’s called puce,” I said.

“Ah. Because that makes it better.”

“Don’t be jealous of my talent. It’s unbecoming of you.”

He looked up at me, unable to hold back the smile any longer. “I don’t know that jealous is the right word. Horrified, maybe.”

“Horrified?” I said with a scowl. “There’s nothing horrifying about it!”

“You gave the King breasts,” he said. “Three of them.”

“Yes, well. It’s commentary on the state of postmodern feminism.”

“Uh-huh. And the chest hair he still seems to have?”

“He’s very manly.” I looked back at the King who was gazing back and forth between Ryan and me with a thoughtful look on his face. “You’re very manly,” I told him.

“Thank you,” the King said. “I don’t know if I want to see the painting.”

“Traitorous lies,” I said.

“So he’s a manly feminist?” Ryan asked.

“That’s a thing,” I insisted. “Everyone knows that’s a thing.”

“I don’t think that’s a thing,” the King said.

“You don’t get to have an opinion,” I told him. “You’re just a king of an entire country who has an infinite amount of responsibility and a wealth of knowledge far beyond my own and are pretty awesome. You wouldn’t know anything about it.”

“How I treasure you,” the King said, smiling quietly at me.

“The feeling is mostly mutual,” I said. “Art appreciation notwithstanding.”

“Is he toppling Meridian City?” Ryan asked, still studying the painting. “While shooting fire from his mouth?”

“It’s me taking a strong standpoint against consumerism,” I said.

“You’re profeminist and antiestablishment.”

“Exactly.”

“By having the King being a three-breasted monster shooting fire.”

“See, when you say it like that, it makes me start to regret my life choices.”

He didn’t stop the laughter that time, the smile now as wide as I’d ever seen it. “
That’s
the thing that causes you to regret your life choices. Nothing else.
That
.”

And it hit me then. How close this was to being like things once were. When I could harbor my secret love in my secret heart and banter back and forth for hours on end. My magic was an underlying current that was saying
yesyesyesyes
and
moremoremoremore
. It felt good. It felt right. I felt whole.

And I couldn’t have it.

It’s why the avoidance had been key. But somehow, Ryan had wormed his way back in.

And gods, how I loved him for it.

How I hated him for it.

I said, “Opinions aside, you’ve encroached upon a private discussion. Perhaps you should find someone else to bide your time with until your nuptials instead of wasting mine.”

It was as if I’d slapped him. There was shock on his face. Then pain. Then anger, whether at me or himself or the situation, I didn’t know. I told myself it didn’t matter. I had to do what I had to do to protect my head and heart, and if it meant being crueler than I ever thought I could be to Ryan Foxheart, then so be it.

He took a step back.

I turned away from him in what was obviously a dismissal.

He said, “Sam.”

I said nothing.

I heard his footsteps echo in the throne room as he fled.

The King watched me for a moment. Then, “I told you something once. On the night of his promotion ceremony.”

“You told me many things,” I muttered, ashamed of the way I’d just acted. Ryan deserved it. Maybe. But that didn’t mean I needed to act like he did.

“I told you he doesn’t smile. Not a real one, anyway. Not one that’s not forced or for show.”

I remembered that. I remembered because I’d thought how odd that was as I’d seen him smiling several times that day alone.

“Until you,” the King said, sounding as sad as I’d ever heard him. “I don’t know why I didn’t see it before. Especially since it was right in front of me. But anytime he smiles, anytime it’s real, it’s because of you. He lights up brighter than anything I’ve ever seen.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” I asked, unable to keep the bitterness out of my words.

“No,” he said. “I don’t suppose it is.”

“Fix this.”

He looked stricken. “I can’t. He made the oath of his own volition. He’s a knight. It’s what’s expected of him.”

I nodded once and turned to walk away.

Before I got two steps, he said, “I tried.”

I stopped but didn’t turn around.

“I tried, Sam.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I asked Justin to release Ryan from his oath.”

“Why?” I managed to choke out.

“Because I wasn’t lying the day I told you that I thought of you as a son. And my heart breaks for you. Your pain will always be my pain, and it is sharp within me. I wanted something better for you, but I’ve failed. I’m so sorry, Sam.”

I spun back around and threw myself at him. His arms came up and he held me close.

I couldn’t find the words to say how I didn’t blame him. I couldn’t find the words to say how much I loved him. I couldn’t really find any words at all, so I just held him for a very long time and hoped he understood all the things that were not said.

A Brief Interlude

I
GLARED
up at the stars while I lay on the grass in the secret garden.

“You’re fucking jerks,” I told them all. “Seriously. What the hell.”

The stars didn’t reply. But then, they were stars, so. Pretty much expected.

They still twinkled like assholes, though.

“I hope you all blow up. You know what? You probably are
already
blown up and it’s just taken your light thousands and thousands of years to reach here. So ha fucking ha. You’re dead now and all I’m seeing are your last gasps.” I sighed. “I’m sorry. That was rude.”

Because it was. It wasn’t their fault Ryan was getting married tomorrow.

It was Ryan’s fault. And Justin’s. I mean, who makes an oath to a prince to honor a dead and cherished mother?

Rude.

And very sweet. And beautiful. And lovely. And just like the selfless bastard.

But also rude.

I scowled at the sky.

“It’s cool,” I told the stars. “I’ll find someone else. And it’ll be awesome and I’ll be all, like, Ryan who? I’ve got a new cornerstone. His name is Juan Carlos and he’s an exotic accountant. Or something. Mental note. Think of better exotic jobs in the future. Like… actuaries. Dammit. Why can’t I think of something exotic off the top of my head? Exotic. Exotic. Go! Juan Carlos is going to be an exotic mortician!” I groaned. “That doesn’t even make sense.”

“Who’re you talking to?”

I squawked like an indifferently tall man.

Ryan laughed quietly to himself.

“Dude,” I sighed. “Seriously. The stalking.”

He stopped laughing. “I wasn’t. Not this time.”

I looked back up toward the stars and cursed them in my head. “So you admit to the other times.”

“Mostly.”

“You can’t mostly stalk someone. You’re either all in or not.”

“Ah. Well.”

“Stalker,” I muttered.

“Not this time,” he said. “I didn’t know you were out here.”

I snorted. “Yeah. Okay.”

“I didn’t. I just needed….”

“Needed….”

He sighed. “I needed to get away. For a little bit.”

“Okay.”

“You don’t want to hear this.”

“You’re right. I don’t.”

The silence that followed was awkward. Him standing above me while I refused to look at him was awkward. Everything about this was awkward.

Of course, I couldn’t keep that to myself. “You’re awkward. This is awkward.”

“I know.”

“It’s like you’re my ex that I’ve seen for the first time since we had our really bad breakup.”

“Is that what it’s like?”

“Sure,” I said. “But it sucks because it’s like we’re exes without having any of the benefits of not having been something before we were exes.”

“Benefits?”

“You know,” I said. “Butt sex.”

He choked.

“Or other things,” I said quickly. “Because it’s not all about butt sex.”

“Thank the gods it’s just not all about butt sex,” he said faintly.

“But you see what I mean? Awkward, but no benefits of having gotten there.”

“I suppose that’s my fault.”

I laughed. “Yes. I suppose it is.”

“I don’t expect you to understand.”