I snorted. “That’s certainly not true.”
“It is to me,” he said and godsdamn him and his awesomely devastating sentimentality. It made me want to make promises I didn’t know I could keep.
But I said them anyway. “We’ll get him back.”
He pulled away and smiled at me. “I know you will. And when you come home, you’ll be here to stay, okay? I have half a mind to lock you up in a tower as it is to keep you safe.”
“I’m not a princess.”
He shrugged. “Close enough.”
I loved my King very much.
WE STOOD at the castle gates, a large crowd of well-wishers gathered around us.
The sun was shining overhead. Fat clouds dotted the sky. There was excitement in the air. We felt young and alive and things were happening.
Pete said, “Don’t die.”
“Thanks, Pete. I can now go with my head held high.”
“No, but, like, for real. Don’t die. I would be sad.”
“Your sincerity is heartwarming.”
“It’s what I’m here for. You better be strolling triumphantly back here as soon as you can, you got me?”
“I got you.” I glanced back at my merry little band of travelers. A hornless gay unicorn. A half-giant. A knight who was a jerk but that I wanted to have for breakfast.
“And let the adventure begin!” I crowed and the crowd cheered. Streamers fell and flags flew and people shouted our names.
“Wait,” Gary said, and the crowd stopped cheering. “Sorry, sorry. I forgot to pack my scarves. We can’t leave yet.”
“Why do you need scarves?” I asked.
Gary glared at me. “You know how my mane looks when it gets windy. I refuse to have a bad mane day just because you can’t hold your horses.”
“Oh my gods.”
“Was that racist?” Ryan asked. “Hold your horses. That was racist. Am I right?” He elbowed Morgan. “Right. Racist.”
We all slowly looked at him.
“What?” he said, sounding defensive. “Whatever. I don’t know how the whole horse racism thing works!”
“That much is obvious,” Gary said, voice dripping with disdain. “And I bet you would be just fine with me having wind-rape hair!”
“Wind-rape hair?” Ryan asked my parents.
“It’s a thing,” Dad said.
“Gary’s very sensitive about it,” Mom said.
“Pete, can you go get his damn scarves?” I said. “He’ll never let me hear the end of it if you don’t. I can only imagine how the next six months will go.”
“Yes, Pete, be a dear would you?” Gary asked. “I surely wouldn’t want to be a bother to Sam. I’m only carrying his possessions on my back. I’d like the
one with the star pattern, the silk one we got in Forakesh, and maybe the Hydanic one. But heavens, that one is more of a fall scarf, and we certainly wouldn’t want me to wear fall in the spring—”