Gary narrowed his eyes. “I can tell when you’re being sarcastic, Sam Haversford. I’ll have you know that big hair is in this spring. Everyone has it.”
“Gary, no one else in this room has it.”
“I would have big hair,” Mom said. “But I don’t have the lady-balls to pull it off.”
“I have lady-balls,” Gary said. “I’m a fierce fucking princess.”
“You look like you pooping snowmen,” Tiggy said.
I laughed until I cried. Which, on a day like today, I sorely needed.
Gary glared at me.
I laughed harder.
It felt good.
So when the knock came at the door, I was as ready as I could ever be.
My mother fussed with my dress robes, brushing off invisible things so she could calm me (and most likely herself).
She leaned in and kissed me on the cheek. She whispered, “We get through today and then we’ll move on to the next. I am so proud of you, my son.”
I hugged her close.
Pete waited for us on the other side of the door. He smiled quietly at me, his armor shining, the decorative sword and scabbard fastened at his side. “Morgan and Randall are waiting for you in the lobby. The ceremony will begin shortly.”
I nodded and let the others out before I followed. I looked back at Kevin. “They’ve opened the Great Doors to the gardens,” I told him. “There should be more than enough room for you there.”
“Should I light something on fire?” he asked. “Like Justin? Or the wedding party?”
“No fires,” I said. “This wedding is going to go smoothly and then we’ll get drunk and I’ll be sad and then tomorrow, I’ll wake up and start again.”
“I am also proud of you, my son,” he said seriously. “In addition, your ass looks great today.”
And that was something I would never get used to. “Ew, and you’re still not my dad,” I called out, closing the door behind me.
I could hear the thrum of people seated in the throne room. The King’s Court, the heads of state, dignitaries from across Verania. At last count, there was to be over a thousand people attending the wedding of Grand Prince Justin of Verania to Knight Commander Ryan Foxheart. They’d all been seated earlier, waiting for the procession. The King would speak, Randall would speak, and we’d all sit in stifling heat wishing for death. I could hardly wait.
I descended the staircase to the lobby and saw my family waiting for me. Morgan looked stately, his robes a deep burgundy, his beard newly trimmed. Randall looked like an ancient pimp, his robes a bright green that I was sure Justin was going to take great offense to. He wore a large hat with a wide brim. A purple feather stuck out the top of it. I thought it was awesome.
“About time,” Randall grumbled. “You’d think it was his wedding day by the way he was dallying.”
“Hello, Randall,” I said. “Make sure your women give you your money so you don’t have to pimp slap them.”
Gary snorted. It came out violet and chartreuse, and I thought it paired with the flowers in his mane very well. Only a gay unicorn could match his uniquely visible sarcasm to his floral accessories.
Randall narrowed his eyes. “And what foolishness do you speak of now?”
“Nothing,” I said. “Tell me, Randall. What str
eet corners are yours, because I don’t want to overstep my bounds.”
“I’m onto you, boy,” he said. “You think you’re being clever, but I’m onto you.”
“Ah,” I said sympathetically. “It’s hard out there for a—”
“And this is probably indicative of how today is going to go,” Randall said with a sigh.