Oliver hates insta-love in books except when they’re about queer people. He can skip the slow-burn romance and instead race straight to marriage and fighting over which Hogwarts House onesie their kid will wear. But this cover feels like a breath of fresh air. The Swordsman is white or white-passing like Oliver with a crystal saber, and the Boy-King is brown like Winter with a big gold crown that’s sitting crooked on his head. The Swordsman and the Boy-King are flirting with their eyes as the sun sets over a kingdom that Oliver couldn’t wait to enter.

“Sunny enough for you?” Winter asks in a dry voice.

“You’re an actual wizard,” Oliver mumbles. “You straight-up conjured this book.”

Winter laughs. “Not a lot of people know about this one, but it’s one of my favorites. I wish I could show you the Spanish edition I bought when I was in Argentina visiting family because it’s so beautiful.”

Oliver would make a total ass out of himself if he tried to string together a sentence in Spanish right now to impress Winter. He’s so jealous of everyone who talks about how they learned a language simply because their parents spoke it around the house while they were growing up. His mothers are always speaking to each other in Spanish, but when they brought him to Puerto Rico last summer to see the town where they first met and fell in love, Oliver wandered away at one point and got lost under the stars and felt powerless when no one understood him. He’s still indebted to this lovely local, Mariana, who helped him find his way back to the hotel; best believe he’ll honor his promise to name his firstborn after.

“I wish more people actually bought the book,” Winter says. “I hype up the plot and they’re sold on the quest to solve the murder of the Boy-King’s father but then they see the cover and—”

“They put it down,” Oliver finishes.

“Exactly.”

It’s totally okay for Oliver to read every book about every heterosexual hero, but God forbid someone be a good enough human for long enough to see what it’s like on the other side of the street. He turns back to the book and sighs, shaking his head. “People are the worst. I feel like this cover was made for me.”

“Same,” Winter says. “I dressed up as the Boy-King last year for Comic-Con and Halloween.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Not everyone knew who I was, but it’s not every day I see someone who looks like me on a fantasy cover.”