Page 41 of King’s Kismet

“That’s it?” he repeated.

“What more do you want, kid?” I challenged.

“I’m not a child,” he told me.

“How old are you?”

He narrowed his eyes. “Seventeen.”

I scoffed. “You’re a child.”

“No—”

“I saw the rise and fall of gods,” I cut in. “Everyone in this park is a child to not only me, but my grandson as well. When you’ve watched civilizations peak and disappear from history, perhaps then you can argue with me about it.”

“Fuck,” he drawled. “You are old.”

“Thank you,” I replied with no small amount of sarcasm. “Now. Are we going to Caplin’s house or not?”

He nodded, though he didn’t move. “Why are you helping me?”

“Because you’re lost, and you need someone to show you the way.” I wobbled my head. “And probably a mentor or schooling or something.”

“I’m going to university next fall.”

I rolled my eyes, knowing I was too old for the action, but it was a bad habit I’d picked up from Sloane. “You need a mage academy to help train your magic. And I know just the place.”

“What?” he argued once more. “No.”

“Not now,” I muttered, rubbing my forehead. “Come on. We have things to do.”

He ruffled his hair. “This is how half the murders in the seventies started. Yeah, Cian, get in the car with a stranger. That sounds like a great idea.”

“We’re not getting in a car,” I commented, walking away again. “And if I was going to murder you, I could have done it at any point over the last week. You would have never known I was there.”

“Right.” He laughed without humor. “Was that supposed to make me feel better?”

“No,” I dryly remarked. “That was the truth.”

“So how are we getting to Caplin’s house?” he asked, racing to catch up with me. “It’s across town.”

I nodded and held my arm out. “Put your hand on my forearm.”

“No,” he replied quickly.

“We’re traveling through the void,” I explained. “Don’t be a child about saving your mother.”

“Either I’m a child or I’m not,” he declared.

I grabbed his arm and pulled him into the void, chuckling when he gasped at the frigid air rushing around us. We stepped out in Caplin’s yard, hidden by a towering fence of bushes.

“Was that so difficult?” I chastised.

Cian glanced around, his brow furrowing when he could see nothing. “Where are we?”

“Caplin’s house.”

“What are we going to do?”