Chapter 35
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At last, movie night.
“My love,” Castor says, hand crushing mine as we stand before a home that is incredibly active at the moment.
Lights glow in the windows, warmth rampant, laughter trickling out to meet us.
“Mayhaps a different night we shall indulge in theft, hm? I’ve many other knives, none my favorite, but they are sharpened and shall make swift work of me.
I even have an array of swords. You could skewer me entirely. Wouldn’t that be fun?”
“What’s this about skewering people?” an oddly familiar voice behind us asks with some amount of apprehension.
Castor stiffens as we both turn to find a woman with long brunette hair in a butter yellow dress and…Doliver. From dolivers_not_trending, the insanely popular music channel on both YouTube and Leopard.
My eyes widen as my mouth falls open. Doliver…is a faerie. That’s wild news. But I suppose his patch-worked vitiligo skin does present a beauty that leans remarkably toward fantasy. He’s always been gorgeous, just like his voice. It almost figures he’s not human.
Nerves nip at Castor so roughly it drags me back into the moment. Awkward, he greets the couple, “Brittny, Ollie. Nice to…cordially meet you both. Before I ruin everything, allow me to say I enjoy your art.”
Ollie’s brows shoot up his tan-and-white forehead. “Our…art?”
Castor nods, worrying his thumb over my knuckles.
“Your music.” He directs his attention toward Brittny.
“Your book. I got an audio copy off NetGalley and finished it last week. Very brave, smearing the details of your relationship so publicly. I respect the nerve. I enjoyed the writing, too. Expect a five-star review from me to appear just as soon as gets its life together and posts it.”
Brittny’s lashes flutter. “Oh, um. Th—”
Ollie claps his hand to her mouth. “Careful, sunshine…remember yourself.”
“Right, sorry,” she whispers, flushed. “I’m used to only humans complimenting my work. I’m not really sure what to…um…say.”
“You should consider expanding your publishing rights. Faeries do so love a touch of something as whimsical as your story. I’m certain queries would go over well on this side of the realms.”
“I’ll…consider it.” Brittny glances at me, at our joined hands, then at Castor’s face. A small smile lifts her lips, but the silence proceeds, practically deafening.
Castor notices, so he points at the covered dish Ollie’s holding. “What’s that? Smells delectable.”
Ollie clears his throat. “Cinnamon rolls. I got carried away earlier doing some time at a bakery, so they made me bring the excess home. This is…not all of it.”
Brittny laughs. “Not even remotely.”
“Doing time?” Castor asks, then he clicks his tongue. “Ahh, yes. The insipid little job board of Cael’s, no doubt.”
“Job board?” I ask.
“A method in Cael’s kingdom that divides tasks among his subjects. We shall need to devise a system for our own eventually…perhaps sooner than later, in truth.” He winces, bites his tongue, and steps past the couple. “Anyway, this was a grave error. Goodbye.”
I dig my heels.
Castor flinches. “Darling…”
“Pollux is in there,” I say, pointing past Ollie and Brittny.
“Yes, and?” Castor asks, s hissed.
“Maybe we should…you know…” Be in there, too? See what might happen? Assess if what Pollux knows about our rising kingdom has been shared with anyone here already…? “Do recon?” Have happy friend-and-family time, together.
Castor inhales, slowly, letting the breath leave him in a quivering exhale.
“I…really…would rather…not.” His chin dips.
Nauseated sensations trip to me. Worry. Fear.
Hurt. He still hasn’t processed the news Pollux laid on him last week.
I know that. I know that fully. And I’ve seen how hard he’s been working to consolidate his emotions about it whenever Alexios has come by to continue helping with our building kingdom.
He loves Alexios.
He loves Pollux.
He treasures and values them so much it hurts to know the same emotions aren’t reciprocated at the level he faces every single day.
I don’t budge.
“I’ve kidnapped several people in there,” he whispers.
Ollie interjects, “Well, we’re gonna head in. And if you decide to join us, I’ll make sure Meda doesn’t eat all the cinnamon rolls before you get a chance to have one, okay?” Ollie then promptly ushers Brittny behind him, toward the entrance, where he walks right in without knocking.
In the void of their presence, I step closer to my mate. “You’ve kidnapped how many of the people in there?”
“Two.”
“So I might be able to make two whole friends based on a commonality? You’d rob me of the chance to mingle and bond upon similar experiences?”
“Danielle…”
“Five minutes,” I say. “If we hate it, we can just go home, right?”
“Danielle…”
The door behind us creaks open, then, “Uncle Castor?” comes sweetly up the walkway. Pouting, a child with dark skin, beautiful curls, and blue eyes that match Pollux’s in the way the whites of them are black stares at us. “Aren’t you coming in?”
Castor’s jaw locks.
“There’s popcorn.” The child sniffles, pitifully.
“And trauma,” Castor mutters, but he turns on his heel to face her. “Whose brilliant idea was it to send you out here to guilt me?”
“Daddy’s.”
“I might actually despise him,” Castor mutters.
The child’s expression turns feral. “No, you don’t. Hence the might.”
You tell him, kid.
Love is all he’s feeling beneath his own terror that he’s going to mess everything up, all over again.
If he does, though, I’ll still be there.
But I don’t think he will. I don’t think, from what he’s told me, that he is anything like the person he once was.
The Castor I know is broken in different ways.
And I believe that, sometimes, when we are truly bad and we have done truly unforgivable things, the only way beyond them is to break.
We must reach the desperation that results in change.
Castor is someone else now.
They’ll either see that, or they won’t, but it’s up to him to take the first step. It’s up to him to believe that there are people who can forgive the unforgivable in the name of loving him.
Squeezing my hand, he says, “Five minutes. That’s long enough to have a cinnamon roll, isn’t it?”
It certainly is.
?
Castor
The infamous weekly movie night.
I’d be lying if I said I have never once come and stood on the edge of Willow’s woods, listening to the distant sounds of the found family gathering. I’ve come. I’ve stood. I’ve lived vicariously through the laughter. I’ve been angry. I’ve been sad. I’ve been grateful and jealous and…lonely.
I’ve never pictured myself being in here, joining them.
I’m half certain Brittny was sick knowing I’d read her book. Ollie was obviously wary and protective of his soulmate in my presence. Kassandra is currently hyperaware that Andromeda is so close to me.
I ruin things.
It’s what I’ve always done.
And right now, I am ruining the picture. The family. I am breaking everything with the stress my mere presence causes.
But I cannot leave yet, because it has not yet been five minutes.
“Here!” Andromeda bursts, shoving a book onto my lap and taking my free hand to press against the paper. “Textile. I like this picture. Do you like it?”
Do I… I feel the picture. It’s… “Little lamb, is this matted crayon?”
“Yes!” Tone light, she says, “I really packed it onto the page. It’s blood, organs, and entrails. Can you tell?”
Blood, organs, and entrails, she says.
Mm, delightful.
I turn my attention toward Pollux, offering those darned olive branches out like sweetened hard sugar. “Your child amuses me.”
“She amuses everyone,” Pollux grumbles. “Amuses them right into calling Child Protection Services.”
“Rightfully so,” I say, opting to joke back in this great big happy parry of wit and humor we’ve merrily entered. “She was very easy to kidnap, which is possibly a side effect of poor parenting.”
Silence.
Ah.
I…shouldn’t have said that.
I see now, yes. That was not a joke. That sounded more like a thinly-veiled insult. My mistake…
Before I can begin counting to five minutes again, though, my sweet soulmate giggles.
“Poor parenting does lead to kidnapping, Pollux. Do better, lest she wind up kidnapped again by someone she falls in love with.” My angel sighs, forlorn, and lifts my hand to her lips for a kiss. “It’s a real risk these days.”
The state of the air in the room settles. Or perhaps it doesn’t. Perhaps I’ve been the tense one all along. Perhaps I’ve settled.
“Alana would be so proud to learn that you kidnapped your soulmate properly and got her to fall in love with you,” Brittny, Alana’s sister, notes in my direction before shifting the direction of her voice toward my mate. “What’s it like living in a dark romance?”
Willow cackles, sitting up to reach for a pastry on the table between the couches and the TV. “Yes. Details. Tell us everything.”
Bright as licking flames, my love says, “There’s a lot of sensory play.”
I release her hand in order to cover Andromeda’s ears. “Danielle, there’s a child here.”
“Oh.” Surprise laces the exclamation. Genuine surprise.
Girl.
“That’s a real child?” she asks.
“Yes, this is a real child,” I state. Does Andromeda not scream real child to her? This is the most real child I have ever encountered in my life. And she is, also, in some ways, my niece, so kindly don’t pollute her sweet little mind with our romantic escapades.
Willow, feral, says, “The real child can handle it. Elaborate.”
“Polly!” I snap.
Pollux offers no parental assistance whatsoever. “She’s at least four now. That’s probably old enough to hear about unhealthy romance.”
“Kassandra?” I ask, hopefully.
Voice lightened by the presence of a smile, Pollux’s mate says, “I’m sure Danielle won’t be too graphic.”
All things considered, I don’t believe she can be unless she blatantly lies about what we’ve done with our time. But still.
I keep Andromeda’s ears covered as my angel elaborates, “He set me on fire this one time. That was fun. Scary. But then not scary anymore. And just…nice. He’s got major insecurity issues, too, so he’s very possessive about me.
Which is also always fun. I keep waiting for a touch her and die situation to pop up again and mourn the fact I didn’t take full advantage of the one that occurred when we first met. ”
“What a dreadful shame,” Willow says, humor dripping off her words.
“He kicked a guy off his chair, then later mentioned disemboweling him, I think.”
“Hot,” Willow notes.
I bristle.
My darling soulmate plows on, merry, “He is really big and bad dark romance, for absolute certain, but does anyone here know how cute he is?”
I bristle. Again.
“I do,” Pollux mutters.
I lose my grasp on his child’s head. “You…what?”
Pollux says, “I know how cute you are.”
Surely not. Absolutely, completely, surely not. I am cute now. I was not cute once upon a time. Specifically in the once upon a time when my path crossed with Pollux’s.
Danielle, merciless, continues, “He’s really so very cute, isn’t he?”
“Yes,” Pollux confirms.
Light as a feather and bright as a sun, Danielle eagerly scoots toward him. “Do you have any cute stories you can share with me, in the spirit of lover’s family showing girlfriend baby photos?”
I am balking, appalled, distressed! And…yet. Lover’s family. My family.
I cannot find the strength in myself to utter another word.
“Tor’s always been dramatic,” Pollux begins. “Whenever he’d get upset but not mad, he’d cross his arms.” The man lifts his finger, pointing at me. “Like that.”
My crossed arms tense.
“He’s sulking. And it’s adorable.”
Danielle strokes my hair. “He’s dealing with big feelings right now, but I think these ones are good for him.”
I huff. Feelings are never good for me. Never ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, e—
The child gets me a cinnamon roll. Placing the plate in my lap, she says, “Here, Uncle Castor. Ollie-nii-san makes the best treats.”
I snort, but it exits me more like a scoff. “Ollie-nii-san?”
“It means big brother in Japanese,” Andromeda clarifies. As though I don’t know this. I’ve had ages to travel this world and learn countless languages. What amuses me is that I am dubbed uncle while Ollie gets brothered.
“What is Zylus?” I ask, purely curious if this is based on personality or age. As the other ancient here apart from her father, Zylus should surely also be an “uncle.”
“Mom!” Andromeda cheers.
I lose my composure.
Willow dryly concurs, “I am, also, mother, in case you wanted to know that.”
I did. I very much did. Shaking, I curl over my plate of cinnamon roll as laughter fights a losing battle inside me. Danielle’s joy pours around me, in response to me…in response to mine. And I realize with stark confidence that she is happy because I’m happy.
That very notion causes something to swell within my chest, bringing me from laughter quite nearly to the brink of tears.
“Someone needs to draw the family tree for me,” my mate says. “I feel like I need a chart to help clarify everything I’ve missed.”
“I have a family tree!” Andromeda blurts. “I can text you a picture.”
“Is it covered in blood and entrails?” I query.
Delightful and sweet, Andromeda says, “Nooo.”
I wouldn’t be inclined to believe her tone if she were human, but given that she’s fae, I am uncertain whether she’s mastered the art of partial answers on top of sarcasm and misdirection, or if she’s telling the truth. A no on its own, after all, is not truly a lie without more clarification.
Perhaps Danielle does need a clear chart to depict and explain how exactly everyone here is connected. I recall rambling the details at her once, but I’m unsure whether or not they managed to stick. If I had to guess, I’d say there’s approximately five books of content she’s behind on.
Five…stories, rather.
With that harrowing thought, my mood mellows moments before Willow declares that it’s time for the movie to start.
The second a nearly robotic voice begins describing the opening credits, my stomach knots and my chest clenches. Breath escapes me, and I remind myself that it has been five minutes. Five minutes, but I’ve yet to touch my cinnamon roll… Five minutes, but—
Andromeda scoots herself up on the couch between me and the armrest, slotting snugly into place before leaning against my side.
My throat closes.
When the first wave of laughter in response to the movie fills the room, I still haven’t touched my cinnamon roll, and when the last wave rises and falls, I find myself taking the blasted thing home with me, alongside the clear invitation that…next week…I’m welcome to come to movie night again.