A Destiny of Dragons (Tales From Verania 2)

I looked at him.

His eyes were wide as he leaned in close, breathing right onto my face. I almost went cross-eyed. “Do I have your attention?”

“Yes, Gary.”

“Good. Now, should I pose like this when I meet the queen of the gypsies?” He froze in the middle of the hallway, nostrils flaring, chest puffed out, one leg up off the floor and bent, a ridiculous smile stretched across his face. He looked like a manic unicorn clown on mushrooms. “Or like this?” He flipped his head back, shaking his mane, the white hair dyed with red stripes because didn’t I know that crimson was in this season, was I a charlatan, honestly, Sam, you are just a living, breathing tragedy. His eyelashes fluttered, and there was a hint of sparkles in the air, shimmering ever so lightly around him.

I stared at him.

“Bah,” he said. “I don’t even know why I ask you. Gods only know that you wouldn’t have even landed yourself a man if it hadn’t been for me. You used to dress like a freshly outed lesbian, not that there’s anything wrong with being a lesbian. I love lesbians because they get me. We are kindred spirits. You, however, are useless to me! Useless! Tiggy, oh Tiggy darling. I need your assistance. You must tell me how I should stand when I meet the queen of the gypsies.” And he was off again, that whirlwind of sass and sparkles that I loved so much I couldn’t even muster up the strength to strangle.

“What’s this all about, you think?” Ryan muttered next to me.

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “She…. I’ve never met her.”

“But she’s your grandmother?”

“Right.”

“So why wouldn’t you have seen her?”

“Because my mother fell in love with my father.”

Ryan frowned. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“It’s part of their culture,” I said. “Gypsies are betrothed to gypsies. Loving someone outside of that is frowned upon. My mother was given a choice. She could renounce my father and marry her intended or love him and be shunned from her clan.”

“And she chose your father,” Ryan said, looking up at my parents, who walked in front of us. Dad’s arm was around her waist, holding her close as he whispered in her ear. Her shoulders were tense, but she was nodding to whatever Dad was saying to her.

“She loved him,” I said with a shrug. “She’s told me that she couldn’t imagine a world without him in it. That even though the choice meant losing part of herself, she would rather that than lose him.”

“I know the feeling,” he said, then immediately blushed.

I stopped. He made it another step or two before he turned back around to see me gaping at him. The flush crawled its way up his neck, splotching his cheeks.

“You do?” I managed to say.

He reached up and scratched the back of his neck, gaze darting everywhere but me. “I, uh. Okay, so, the thing is—”

“Sam? Ryan? What’s the holdup?”

My eyes were wide when I turned to Morgan, who was waiting for us at the end of the hall. He must have seen something on my face because he sighed that sigh usually reserved for me. “Now? Really?”

“I am about to have so many feelings,” I told him. “And I will probably kiss my boyfriend so much that it looks like I’m eating his face. Unless you want to stay and watch that, you should leave right now. Unless you do want to stay and watch. Then we’ll n

eed to have a conversation about boundaries. Really, Morgan. Learn some propriety—”

“Five minutes,” he said. “If you’re not in the throne room in five minutes, I will send you to Randall tomorrow and make Ryan stay here.”

“But… but feelings.”

“Five minutes, Sam of Wilds.”

And he was gone around the corner.

Since I didn’t want to scar some unsuspecting maid with some good old-fashioned homoerotic face sucking, I grabbed Ryan by the hand and pulled him toward the nearest door I could find. I opened it, shoved him inside, followed him in, and closed the door behind us.

It was a broom closet.