5. Caly
5
CALY
A fter scouring the land that surrounded the cave to no avail, we came to the conclusion that Eli must have woken up and decided to go on ahead to Lake Sheridon. At least that was what Mendax continued to tell me to reassure me. How could I let that happen? How could I be so insensitive and careless to have done that right in front of Eli?
We left the cave after deciding that we would be smartest to meet him at Lake Sheridon, assuming that was where he went. Where else would he go? What must he be thinking right now? How awful that must have felt to wake up and find Mendax and me having sex. His best friend and supposed fiancée fucking his enemy right in front of him while he slept. It was bad enough he had already seen Mendax and I together once before, no thanks to faerie mead.
I would never want to hurt Eli in any capacity. I had worked tirelessly since we were little to make sure he never got hurt, and now I was the cause of it.
Loving them both was hard, but trying not to love each of them with harder. My only crumb of hope was in knowing that with the tie, Eli could feel some of what I felt and knew I was helpless in fighting those feelings. Everything with Mendax was that way. I seemed incapable of staying away from him. We were like magnets, and the farther apart you pulled us, the more we needed each other.
My love for Eli was not slight in comparison; on the contrary, more parts of me loved Eli. The parts of me that were calm and safe and reliable, they leaned on him. The parts of me that I trusted and that I knew were best for me, those were the parts that loved him. It was just a different kind of love: all-consuming in a comfortable way. I couldn’t imagine a life without Eli in it, and I knew more than anything, I didn’t want to. He had always been the only one who made me feel safe, the one I knew I could rely on no matter what.
Seeing his handsome and familiar face all grown up after we hadn’t physically seen each other for all those years added a bit of attraction into the confusion. I’d always loved him, but after Mendax, I knew I didn’t love him in the same way. But I still loved him in a way that I don’t think many people ever get to experience.
The reality of what would take place today settled in like the last stage of poisoning: one of them would die tonight, in Moirai, because of me.
Mendax and I trudged on in silence, occasionally stopping to collect mushrooms or snowberries to eat. The snow was thick and silent. It seemed like the forest of the in-between went on forever, and in some aspect, I suppose it did. Several times, I had accidentally gone off course, and Mendax had to correct my direction. Apparently, as well as devastating good looks, fae also had a natural sense of direction that a human like me could only dream about.
Wintery stillness suffocated the icy air as we walked, so much so that a crisp breeze startled me. It lifted and carried a dusting of snow up and into the air and back onto my face. The snow brushed against my already chilled cheeks like bits of sandpaper. I wiped my face with my sleeve—well, Eli’s sleeve. Subtle notes of happy citrus remained with me after I pulled the shirt from my nose. Worry filled me. What if he had stepped out of the cave and something had happened to him? What if he hadn’t gone ahead?
He didn’t deserve any of this—not from his mother, not from Mendax, and most assuredly not from me. He was the best person (besides my sister) that I’d ever met. My mom was wonderful as well, but she had secrets too. Now, more than ever, I was certain of that. Looking back, there were always little idiosyncrasies about her, things that I’d give anything to be able to go back in time and ask her about, like her chest tattoo—an ethereal-looking skeleton holding a ring full of old-fashioned keys. It had never seemed to fit her style, and she had never spoken about it. Of course, there was also the fact that she had two children with a near god and never spoke about him other than to tell us he had left us all behind. No stories, no explanations.
My eyes snagged on a small imprint on the snow.
“Wait!” I shouted at Mendax.
A rounded triangle and four little toe prints depressed in the snow. I nearly screamed with relief. It was no wonder we hadn’t seen Eli’s size-thirteen footprints breaking up the snow; he had shifted, which, without a shirt, was likely far more comfortable in this weather, even for him. I wrapped my arms around myself and felt the warm fabric of his shirt. He shouldn’t have had to travel alone.
He deserved better.
“Eli’s tracks,” I said with a smile, pointing. “He must’ve?—”
My thoughts were cut off when something moved in the crevice of one of the snowy toeprints.
There was no way that was what I thought it was.
My knees pressed into the snow as I dropped down to get a better look.
“I know your human tracking methods are mysterious, but if you lick that snow, Calypso?—”
“It is—it’s a glasswing!” I looked at Mendax in disbelief.
The fae’s only reaction was to stiffen his jaw and stare at me.
I hadn’t seen one of these since Adrianna was alive.
I carefully lay down on the snow to get a closer look at the magnificent winged creature. Cozy nostalgia blanketed me as I watched it move its little antennae before fluttering up into the air and away. I sat up and watched as its clear-as-a-windowpane wings carried it off into the snowy distance.
Mendax clasped my hand and pulled me back onto my feet before he helped dust some of the snow off my clothes. Thank god this snow and weather weren’t as cold as human snow, or I would probably have frostbite by now. Was that how butterflies could survive in this weather? But wait?—
“How can the glasswing butterfly survive in this weather, but the luna moth and monarchs can’t?” I questioned Mendax.
He squinted as if I’d offended him. “How should I know? I’ve never seen one before, at least not that I recall. Also, it’s small. My luna moths could easily destroy it.”
I stared blankly at him after his masculine response. “The last time I saw one of those, I was with Adrianna, my sister.”
“You miss her quite strongly for only seeing her as a child a long time ago,” Mendax stated.
I opened my mouth to tear him apart but then stopped myself. Sometimes he was so caring and full of tenderness that I forgot he seemed to lack the ability to feel that way for everyone. “Yes,” I replied simply.
“I miss Walter, and I miss my mother.”
His confession surprised me. I don’t know why. It had always been obvious Walter was a cherished friend, though a part of me doubted he even realized how much until after Walter had died.
“I miss Walter too,” I added, reaching out and squeezing his hand. “And unfortunately, you will find you’ll miss Walter more as time goes on, not the other way around.” I nodded solemnly. “I suppose at least I am human. I will only miss them another forty years, if I’m lucky. You—you will miss them for the rest of your long preternatural life.”
“Or perhaps only another few hours,” he replied with a grin.
I didn’t return it.