Chapter 39
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The future is nigh.
“What would you say if I suggested we pay your mother a visit?” Castor asks, as though he’s not been deliriously tired today and throwing his dagger at things.
The heavy sound of the blade now hitting the same wooden spot on the wall in this parlor yet again draws my attention up off my book, to my soulmate, who has just asked me if I want to pay my mother a visit.
“I never want to see that woman again in my life,” I say.
“I have actually quite enjoyed the times when I’ve been able to forget she exists completely. ”
“You wouldn’t even want to cut the skin off her bones and…” His words peter out in response to the way my emotions rile against the notion. “Sorry,” he mutters, stands, retrieves his knife, sits, and sends it flying again.
“Is progress on the cure not going well?” I ask, as softly as possible.
His lips turn down. “Get my knife.”
Leaving my magic theory book on the couch, I cross the room and pluck his knife from the wall, skating my fingers over the dozens of pricks now marring the wood.
“Are you going to communicate?” I ask. “Or am I going to be left guessing? Just so you know, I’ve outgrown the desire to walk on eggshells around people, so if you aren’t ready to talk, I respect that, but I will ask that you respect me by not acting in such a way that leaves me feeling disconnected from you. ”
His emotions ruffle, perishing the very thought of disconnect between us.
Assuming that means he’s willing to talk, I say, “You left the key to my cage on my pillow last night. I felt you put it there. Why?”
“Because I needed to step out and did not want to strand you if I was to be gone long.”
I turn to face him. “When you returned, you smelled like Cael’s palace.”
His back goes rod straight. “Since when do you identify things by their scents?”
I lift a shoulder. “You do. I tried and learned I could, too.”
Ripples of terse pride meet me along our bond.
“Why were you there?” I ask, toying my finger along the edge of his blade.
“To apologize.” His arms cross, and he sulks.
“Am I going to have to pry every three words from you?”
He huffs. “No.” His arms loosen and drop to his sides. “I’m…tired. Yesterday was hard to get through. I made it hard on myself. Some days, I wish I’d had a sweeter origin. A kinder one. A good one. Some days, I wish I were seelie. It would make things so much easier.”
“Maybe.” I meet him and offer him his knife. “But you wouldn’t be you anymore.”
“Oh my heart and soul, being me is exactly the problem I’d like to avoid.” He takes the knife and traces the designs on the hilt.
“But I like you.”
“That’s cute, if naive. You do not know the me of ages past. I was a different sort of creature then, and that monster lingers in big and small ways. There is much of me I must deal with that I pray you never will.”
“Without the you of the past, you’d not be the you of the present, and I like the you of the present, so even if I wouldn’t have liked the you of the past, I appreciate the strides you’ve taken to get from there to here, and I believe that effort is commendable enough to deserve recognition and grace. ”
He settles, and even his emotions fall quiet.
At last, he murmurs, “Sometimes I forget that you are a dancing flame, a brilliance unlike anything I’ve been blessed to witness before.
Your light casts into my darkness, warming the freezing pieces of my heart.
Tell me, my darling, do you believe in me? ”
What a positively vague question.
Smiling, I kiss his forehead. “Yes.”
“Would you look into my eyes and risk becoming stone?”
“Yes.”
His fist clenches. “Why?”
“Why? What do you mean why?”
“What have I done to deserve such unfaltering loyalty? What have I done to make your devotion make sense? I stole you. I’ve been rough with you.
I’ve pushed and prodded, just like I always do.
I hurt people. I lash out. Why does anyone forgive me?
Why does anyone still bother to care about me?
Don’t any of you know that I don’t deserve it? ”
“Maybe we see something you’ve blinded yourself to.” I let my forehead rest against his. “Maybe we see more to you than you can. Or, maybe, it doesn’t matter what you think you deserve. Maybe loving you is meant to be enough.”
“Our soul bond muddies your sense. You are addicted to me. It’s unavoidable that you would think well of me. My attention in any respect ignites you.”
“I relish the addiction. I revel in the peace you bring me. For the first time in my life, Castor, I feel loved. However twisted that affection is or isn’t, I adore being set alight.
Every day I’m here with you, building something beautiful together, I find myself feeling whole.
I am safe to ask you for anything—even the things I know you’d rather not give.
I am blessed to learn so much about what I can be under your guidance.
I am growing fearless because of you.” I kiss his cheek.
“I cannot recall ever being this happy before. You have set me free.”
“Yes,” he mutters, self-deprecating, “that’s why you’re regularly in a cage.”
I harden my tone. “We’re both in cages, Castor.
I left mine last night and peeked in at yours, because I could, because I was curious.
For whatever reasons, we’re both locked up.
I suppose I’ve just come to learn that if my warden will let me out whenever I ask, I’m not actually imprisoned…
If yours won’t do the same, which one of us needs to worry more about their cage? ”
He stands, throws his dagger at the wall, and takes my elbow.
Struggling to keep up, I follow him as he drags me from the parlor, down into the belly of his magic study. There, he brings me to the door on the other side of it, weaves a key, and opens a large chamber full of…
Bodies.
Stone bodies.
Words sharp, he says, “I stuck them in here before I got you. I didn’t want you to see them and be scared. I used to keep them dappled about. Cruel reminders. Terrible warnings.”
Hundreds of people. Men, women…a handful of children.
Stone faces.
Stone…tears.
“These are the statues Pollux mentioned,” I whisper.
“Yes. An account of my crimes. Each of these people came to me of their own accord. They bumbled their way right into Faerie and begged for a release from the weight of life. They asked that my nothingness might consume them. I obliged.”
My attention catches on a small boy, delirious eyes wide above a crooked smile.
He continues, harsh, “Regular humans do not fare well here. The magic gets to them, infects them, drives them to insanity. I gave them the void. On the brink of Faerie turning them mad, I turned them to stone. And this is what has happened…as far as I knew until recently…to anyone who has met my eyes.”
“As far as you knew until recently?” I ask.
“Pollux claims to have seen my eyes once. I don’t remember him doing so, but it is not as though he can lie.
And, as you know, he isn’t stone. So.” Castor sighs, leaning against the doorjamb.
“There was also Pila. That’s two people I would not want to turn…
who didn’t. This entire power of mine is apparently something I can control.
I simply by no means trust myself with it.
Until I can undo this—” He tosses his hand out toward the room.
“—I will not take the chance that I may turn anyone I love into stone. But I have tried to undo it, to no avail. I spent all last night after returning from Cael’s trying.
I do not yet believe myself able, so that belief writes my reality.
In that way, the cure remains in reach…yet too far to grasp. ”
“Could my powers fix them?” I ask. “Could I use rebirth?”
“Probably,” he murmurs, “but unless I can fix it myself, I would maintain not to look at you, still, for fear I might lose you and the key to healing this in an instance of error. Death for you would not be an ending, but apparently this is not death. So it very well could be.”
Death for me wouldn’t…be death? I say, “Could you…explain that?”
“Explain what?”
“How could I die…but not die?”
His head tilts. “What do you mean?”
“I feel as though my question is self-sufficient?”
He arches a brow. “I had thought tales of what you are were common amongst the humans.”
I stare at him.
I press my lips together.
I droop and sigh and go to my mate. “Castor?”
“What?” He stiffens, tone tense. “Why are you saying my name like that?”
Cupping his cheeks, I murmur, “Love…you haven’t told me what I am.”
His mouth opens, and closes, then he fully deflates. “My darling…why have you not asked or mentioned it before now?”
“Women love a little mystery, I guess.”
As though hundreds of statues aren’t silently filling the space all around, Castor finally offers me the barest hint of a smile. “Shall I let you revel in your mystery, or shall I tell you?”
I contemplate those options for a second, and come to the obvious conclusion. “You may tell me.”
“As you wish, my feather.” His fingers trace the shape of my cheek. “You…are a phoenix.”
?
“So I actually do have wings hiding in my back?” I ask, as I—poorly—knead the lump of dough Castor divvied up for me. He’s busy shaping his seventh roll. I’m still messing about with my first.
“Yes.”
“I thought I was a salamander. You know. So we could both be reptiles.”
He chuckles. “No.”
“I’m a bird. You’re a snake. Doesn’t that mean I eat you?”
His lips curl. “I’d not be opposed, but I’m fairly sure depending on species, birds and snakes eat one another.”
My face heats. “Mind your manners, Castor.”
His smile broadens as his cheeks also tint. “Forgive me my foul mind.”
I don’t think I will. I am, in fact, quite certain that I will be enjoying it to the fullest within a matter of days.
Which reminds me. “What do we need to plan for our wedding? Should we let the group know at movie night tomorrow? Since we have a solution in sight, we can get married as soon as you learn to control your power. I suspect that likely will take about three days.”
He ruffles. “You believe I’ll have myself together enough to have unlocked the ability to undo my stone curse within three days?”
I finally get the stupid roll to sit right and add it to the pan. “Well, yes, Castor. If marrying me is being dangled like a carrot in front of you, I have genuinely nothing but faith.”
His mouth opens, but he doesn’t say anything as he shakes his head and scrubs the back of his hand over his crimson cheek. “You know what, my dear? I believe you have made the most remarkable of points. As it is, I consider your role in this whole thing to be, plainly, my motivation.”
That is a role I can do very well, I think. “I know you said that the marriage itself is generally private, but do we plan a reception with our friends?”
“Not normally. To my knowledge, you just find out one day that two soulmates you know decided to get married. Most often, marriage is assumed.”
Interesting. No public display. No public party. You just make the decision, swear it to one another, and then you’re done. That really means that the only thing we have to do now is figure out how to undo the stone statues.
I gasp.
Castor startles. “My love?”
“The only things we have to do now to get ready for marriage are figure out how to get you confident enough in yourself to control your powers, and cut my wings out.”
He stiffens, baffled. “Cut your wings out?”
“Of my back. Break them free.”
“Oh.” His tone is…interesting. Not as yes, of course I’m going to do that for you as I’d hope.
“What?” I prompt.
Castor provides me with another ball of dough as he finishes up his tenth or fifteenth. “My apologies. I was not speaking literally the other day. I needn’t cut your wings out of you. To free them, you must simply become fully fae.”
Become fully fae. That sounds far more romantic and far less painful. Mm. Yeah, I’m a fan.
I ask, “How do I do that?”
“Cast off your humanity. Accept a tongue that can’t lie. Embrace everything you are.” His expression softens. “Make the decision to be reborn yourself.”
My mind parses over that one, and I wince. “So I need to die? Or I need to cast rebirth on myself?”
“The second option.”
Oh, thank goodness. If standing in fire was a horror experience for quite a good portion of it, I don’t know how I’d work my human brain past a suicide. Now the only problem is that I don’t think I’ve ever quite intentionally cast rebirth. It’s sort of just…happened. By mistake. “Castor?”
“Yes, Mine?”
“How do I do that?”
He finishes his last roll and settles it into its place on the large tray. “How have you cast rebirth on other organic beings?”
Well, mostly it involves a lot of regret where it concerns misgendering and…
Oh.
Castor recognizes the shift in my emotions and smiles. “That’s how.”
I need to choose a new name.