I blinked, unsure if I had died yet.
And then Gary’s brother burst through the crowd, an irritated look on his face. He stalked toward Gary, eyes narrowed. Gary glanced back at Terry, then at me, then at Terry again, prancing in place like he couldn’t keep still, his Glitter Rage flowing from him.
“Just what do you think you’re doing?” he asked Gary as he came to stand at his brother’s side.
“My horn!” Gary cried. “Sam has my horn. He stole it from me, and I will crush him and then stuff his twitching remains with blueberries.”
Terry cocked his head in confusion.
“He’s allergic to blueberries. He’ll go into anaphylactic shock, his face swelling and throat closing, and then he’ll die.”
“Whoa,” I breathed. “That’s diabolically detailed. And your full name is ridiculous, FYI.”
“Sam is your friend, though I don’t understand why.”
“He wants to sex up Ryan,” I told Randall.
“Of course he does,” Randall sighed.
“But—but my horn,” Gary whined.
“I can see that. And even though he is completely underwhelming, do you really think he’d keep something like that from you?”
“I always knew he was a shifty-eyed little beast,” Kevin told a random man in the crowd, who appeared as if he was quite terrified of dragons.
“He’s got Glitter Rage Sickness,” Terry said, sounding bo
red.
“I will eat the flesh from your bones,” Gary growled at me, eyes flashing.
“Eep,” I said, because being threatened by a unicorn would always be petrifying.
“Glitter Rage Sickness?” Randall asked as if he had all the time in the world.
Terry shrugged. “It happens when a unicorn gets really worked up and won’t listen to reason. He can’t stop leaking glitter, and it’s fogging up his mind. All his good feelings and inner sunshine are buried in the stuff.”
“Unicorns are so stupid,” I said.
And then Ryan, sword drawn, came into view, followed by pretty much everyone else I knew. His gaze flew from Gary to Terry to Tiggy to Randall before it locked on me. He gave Gary a wide berth before he hopped over the railing fluidly like the douchebag that he was. Terry sighed dreamily at the sight of it, and I promised myself that if I lived past the next five minutes, I was going to have to have some words with that unicorn about stepping off from my man. I started to formulate a plan where I would somehow get Terry and Justin on a date where they’d fall in love and have what I assumed would be disgusting and tender interspecies sex when Ryan said, “Is that Gary’s horn?”
“Oh dear,” my mother said. “This certainly is a tense situation. Is anyone drawing a picture of this? I’d like a copy for my scrapbook.”
“Looking good, son!” Dad called out. “Maybe stand a little taller and look a little less like you’re about to vomit.”
“Thanks, Dad,” I said meekly, squaring my shoulders, because he was right. I was a man, and I’d take it like a man.
“Filthy creatures,” Vadoma muttered as she stood next to my parents.
“Is this what the camp is usually like?” the King asked. “Because if it is, I really missed out, being in the dungeons.”
Justin sighed. “Would it surprise you to know that it was actually pretty normal until Sam came back?”
“Not in the slightest,” the King said fondly.
“Okay, Gary,” Terry said. “Why don’t we let Sam explain why he has your horn, and if it’s for an innocuous reason, then great. If not, then we can trample him to death.”
“Yesss,” Gary hissed in a strange voice. “He has it. Gives it to us, precious.” He coughed, clearing his throat. “I mean, yes, please, Sam. Please explain why you are holding my horn before I take your life—I mean, so I can hear you out as the friend that I am.”