Lisa Shearin - All Spell Breaks Loose

Tam hadn’t expected that, but he recovered quickly and Imala found herself lifted off her feet. I don’t think she noticed.

Tam’s parents were having a similarly passionate reunion; but unlike Imala, Deidre hadn’t needed to fight the urge to punch Cyran before kissing him.

We were out of the temple and in Execution Square near the palace, surrounded by those Resistance fighters who weren’t presently occupied hunting down any and every Khrynsani they could find. The Mal’Salin palace also had dungeons, and that had been where Sarad Nukpana had imprisoned the goblin nobles who’d refused to bow down to him.

Apparently the explosions and resulting blaze had been a result of a massive wagon full of armaments with just enough Nebian black powder inside to make for one heck of a pyrotechnics display, and to blast a sizeable crater at the foot of the Khrynsani temple stairs. Witnesses said the wagon had been driven into the square and parked in front of the temple by a lone goblin, who released the wagon’s team of horses, hurled a torch on top of the wagon, and then ran like hell.

Damage to the inside of the temple had been even more extensive. The sea dragons had been big enough to break through the temple floor, but fortunately weren’t small enough to get through the front doors. Once Sarad Nukpana was gone, so was his control over the dragons, and the pair had gone back where they’d come from; that is, once all of their food had run screaming outside and out of their reach. The Resistance mages had a couple of weather wizards among their number, and they were presently exhausting themselves trying to put out the still burning crater.

Prince Chigaru and Princess Mirabai were being celebrated by their nobles as their new goblin king and queen. Chigaru was the last Mal’Salin heir standing, so that was enough for the nobles to begin sucking up. More than a few of them were wearing the same fancy clothes that marked them as having been in the temple just an hour before. However, most were the nobles who had been newly released from the palace dungeons. Their sincerity didn’t sound forced, unlike their well-dressed counterparts’. I hoped Imala had some trusted agents in the crowd noting who was dressed up and who looked like they’d been languishing in a dungeon. That knowledge would come in handy for culling the wheat from the chaff later. For now, the army officers and some newly handpicked loyal soldiers had established a heavily armed perimeter around their new monarchs and were allowing the nobles to get only marginally close and only one at a time. From time to time, as a particularly well-dressed noble was allowed to approach and bow, Mirabai would whisper in her soon-to-be husband’s ear. In response, Chigaru would scowl at the now-shaking supplicant.

Oh yeah, those two were going to clean house.

Goblin politics was a fluid thing, and goblin courtiers were, shall we say, flexible in their loyalties. Loyalty seemed to pass easily from Sathrik to Sarad Nukpana to Chigaru. I didn’t think they could help themselves. If a goblin aristocrat was breathing, they were plotting. And if they were plotting, they were happy.

They weren’t the only ones—who were happy, that is.

I had my arms around the waist of a certain Guardian paladin, and he had one arm tightly around me. The hand of his other arm still had a tight grip on that curved goblin sword, his sharp blue eyes taking in every threat within fifty feet in every direction. Seeing that we were surrounded by scheming goblin courtiers, regardless of how well behaved, I wholeheartedly approved of how Mychael was dividing his attentions.

Words couldn’t describe how wonderful it was not to have a target on my forehead or anywhere else. The Saghred was dust, and Sarad Nukpana was in whatever circle of the Lower Hells had been prepared especially for him.

No one would gain anything by killing me anymore.

At least for now.

Mychael was warm, he was holding me, and both of us were alive and breathing. Life was good. I nuzzled Mychael’s neck, then stood on tiptoe and nibbled his earlobe.

The sword promptly lost Mychael’s attention. Take that, piece of metal.

“Mmm,” Mychael murmured. Then I was on the receiving end of some nuzzles and nibbles of my own.

I suddenly sensed a pair of entirely too watchful eyes. I tried to turn and see who it was, but that wasn’t easy with Mychael still holding on. Kesyn Badru was standing a few feet away.

“You were listening,” I accused.

“Yep.” The old mage smiled, exposing his chipped fang. “And watching. When you get to be my age, you take your thrills anywhere and way you can find ’em.” He nodded with approval and his dark eyes gleamed. “You did good; I’m proud of you.”

“And thank you for being a stinky old man.”

Kesyn laughed. “Never try to be anything you’re not.” He lowered his voice. “Any sign of your magic?”

“Not yet.” I concentrated for a moment, probing around a little in my head. “At least I don’t think so.”

“Give it some time; it’ll come back.”

I nodded, surprised at the sudden realization that I really wouldn’t mind all that much if it didn’t come back. I’d done pretty well over the past few days without it.

“Sir,” Piaras called to Tam. He pointed at a figure on the palace’s garden wall.

The figure whooped.

I squinted through the smoke still coming from the now-extinguished crater. Hmm, a crater made by an exploding wagon—much like a certain exploding goblin army latrine. That explosion had been followed by a mooning from a certain goblin teenager running amuck.

We weren’t being mooned—we were getting the full frontal treatment. Well, navinem did lower your inhibitions. Too bad Talon didn’t have any of those to begin with.

Piaras got a good look at his friend and cracked up.

Talon was whooping up a storm, swinging what looked to be his trousers in victory circles over his head. I said they were probably his trousers because he wasn’t wearing any—or anything else, for that matter.

Lord Talon Nathrach, son of the chancellor to the king, heir and scion of the noble House of Nathrach, was standing above Execution Square, in front of hundreds of goblin aristocrats, buck naked, and loving it. From what I could tell, the kid had nothing to be ashamed of, and many of the ladies of the court shared my opinion.

“That your boy?” Kesyn asked.

Tam sighed. “I’m afraid so, sir.”

The old mage grinned. “Well, I think that takes care of his introduction to the court.”

Tam desperately wanted to be somewhere else as Talon leapt down from the wall and took a victory lap around the square.

“He’s all yours,” Tam told his teacher.

“Oh joy.”

The old mage’s words said one thing; the gleam in his eyes told anyone watching him something else.

Kesyn Badru lived for a challenge.

Talon was taking the last half of his victory lap. Kesyn for a teacher. I almost felt sorry for Talon. I grinned slowly. Almost.

Since there was no longer a father of the bride, Kesyn stood in. And I was thrilled and honored when Princess Mirabai asked if I would stand in for the mother of the bride.

The new goblin queen had to be the happiest-looking new orphan I’d ever seen.

It was a beautiful wedding. The throne room was lit by what had to be hundreds of candles with not a blue lightglobe in sight, filling the room with a warm, golden glow. The room was far from being full. The only courtiers in attendance were those whom the new king trusted not to put a knife in his back. Though I bet the kitchen staff loved it; less people to feed at the reception.

At the end of the ceremony, when the priest had told the king that he could kiss his bride, he probably didn’t think he’d have to ask him to stop.