Chapter 41
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Growth is painful, but it’s beautiful when we do it anyway.
“You are handsome,” I say, playing with the fabric of Castor’s clothes and using my magic to form them around his body.
Even though I started in the style of his usual robes, I have swiftly lost that plot in favor of dressing him in my favorite outfits.
That is to say that, presently, he’s in a whole entire sweater vest, dress shirt, and slacks.
And I am blessed beyond measure to see him like this.
I add an adorable newsboy hat, then frown at his long hair, because it doesn’t exactly fit, does it? No, it does not.
Opting to swap the entire outfit for a tight turtle neck and a sleek trench coat, I bite my lip.
Dang.
And I thought I was hot.
“You are incredibly attractive,” I say.
Understanding the assignment, Castor adjusts the jacket with a quick tug on the lapels then begins fiddling with his cuffs. “You’re simmering, sweetheart.”
Yes, because I’m hot. Like I just said. “I’m made of fire now. Simmering is a side effect.” I plant a singeing little kiss on his cheek. “Back to affirmations.”
“Oh? Affirmations? Is that what we’re doing? I figured you were merely stating the obvious.”
I giggle. “So weird how you can be both this confident and yet…so insecure.”
“Duplicity. It’s a real gift.”
“You’re a gift.” I take a moment to play with his hair and see if I can do anything with it.
At the moment, it’s really giving put me back in my hanfu robes, or else, unfortunately.
So straight. So pretty. So silk. He fits so terribly well into ancient grace.
My modern styles hardly complement the whole of him in the way I’d like.
“Do you want me to cut my hair?” he asks.
My innards revolt at the very thought, and my hair—which I’ve been trying to keep calm and not on fire—ignites.
Like Hades. From Disney. “Don’t you dare.
” I put my hand at his back, a few inches below his neck.
“If you ever cut your hair shorter than this, I will emotionally, if not literally, molt until it grows back.”
Castor’s teeth bare in a grin. “You want to make sure there’s enough to pull.”
I smack him in the back of his pretty head, then return to my affirmation scheme. “You’re a smart, strong, kind creature.”
“Knowing you believe that means the world to me, Mine.”
“I believe you can do this,” I say, firmly. Because now that I’m fully fae, I feel him through our soul bond at a depth that makes not being married to him agonizing. I believe he can do what he must, but more than that, I believe he needs to. Soon. For my sake.
I do not know how he’s suffered existing in this as long as he has. I do not know how he’s managed to maintain restraint. I cannot sum it up to anything but a great love for me—one that surpasses mere want.
His emotions tremble, and his doubt lurks, so I remind him, “It’s summer, Castor.”
“Yes? It is.”
Stern, I lift my finger and school, “Birds don’t experience mating periods like mammals. Their breeding time is cued by longer days and sunlight. Likewise, for snakes. If we miss summer—”
Castor, dryly, cuts off my dire tones. “We’re people, love. We don’t need to confine our…mating periods…as it were…to a single season.”
Oh… Lucky us!
I flutter my cute little faerie wings, which I keep itty bitty on my back when I’m not using them, for the sake of not setting everything on fire…but also because I prefer to have them present instead of tucked completely away. “We don’t have any instinct?”
“Not like that.”
I do some quick calculations and build a new and improved argument. “According to people science, I am approaching my luteal phase. If missed, we’ll have to push our wedding past menstruation. Which could be a week or more, since my cycle is still settling.”
Lowering his face, he shakes his head, then he dips me off balance, looping an arm around my waist to hold me up. “I’ve waited millenia for you.”
“And another moment more would be agony unlike anything you’ve ever suffered?” I ask, hopefully.
He kisses my chin. “I will do my best to not keep you waiting for me.”
The flames licking inside me calm. Lifting my hands, I play with my magic in his clothes, fixing them so he’s back in his usual robes, then I spread my palms against his chest. “More than anything,” I say, “I want to fall asleep with you tonight. I want to hold you close, for hours. I want to look in your eyes and see the love you’ve shown me all this time.
I believe you can do this, Castor. I do.
If not for yourself, you will do it for me. ”
Threading our fingers together, he rights me and kisses my wrist. “There is much to do. Yet priorities persist.” Turning, he takes me with him, reciting all the many things we need to tackle today—finishing the plans for our kingdom’s food sources, meeting with Cael to discuss matters of how to run a start-up kingdom, attending an event this evening at Andromeda’s school, which is apparently why Kassandra wasn’t at movie night yesterday.
She was busy putting finishing touches on a hoard of crocheted gifts for her students.
“It’s a quarter party,” Castor says. “Andromeda tells me we have to bring a quarter to usher in the new semester. Traditionally, in order to attend, we would need to do a background check, but you no longer hold ties to your human background, and not a single one of my aliases would pass, so…”
That gives me pause as we head up the hall, toward the library. “You have human aliases?”
He stops and tilts his head back at me. “Yes, of course. I used to, at any rate. Criminal records aside, they should really all be dead by now, so there’s no feasible way to perform the background checking ritual.”
Criminal records aside.
I giggle, and we enter the library.
“What?” he asks.
“You’re charming.”
“Back to affirmations, is it?” He sighs and opens the way down to his magic study, where he wastes no time settling me in the chair at his desk and throwing open the door to his room of statues.
There—even though he’s just gone over the long list of other things we must do today—his determination stalls. The weight of the task at hand presses on him, and I can feel how suffocating it is.
“What if you start small?” I ask. “Maybe…not on any of the humans that in some way or another seemed to want this…but on something else? Something with less emotional strain?” I ponder. “Like an animal?”
“An animal…” he murmurs, then his shoulders square.
Turning away from the door, he reaches the desk before me and carefully traces his fingers across the surface until he finds a stone spider.
“This was an accident.” He lifts the creature.
“I was texting Willow…and I was facing irregular emotions…and I saw the creature…and I subconsciously gave in to what I thought was unavoidable.” Unease riles inside him.
“I must change what I believe is or is not unavoidable. I cannot allow mistakes like this in the future.”
I touch his hand. “Mistakes are normal.”
“Mine hurt people.”
“You shouldn’t beat yourself up over them forever, and if everything you’ve told me is right, you can choose when you hurt people.
I like you, Castor. A lot. I like you because you’re genuine.
You’re careful and caring when you want to be, and when you want to be, I don’t think anyone else in the world could be half as gentle.
That said, I like you when you’re rough, too.
I like you when you’re trying to show me why I shouldn’t.
I trust you. I trust you in ways I didn’t know people were capable of.
Whatever you have been, whatever you will be, you are strong.
Strong enough to face the hard things, accept them, and make a new choice if that’s what you want.
You may never be wholly good, but you are forgivable.
And you need to forgive yourself if you’re ever going to do better.
Heck, you need to forgive yourself if you intend to find peace in doing worse.
Forgiveness must be the first step, no matter where you go beyond it.
Control is yours, but you must take it.”
“But…”
“But nothing. Pollux and Cael last night proved that no matter how many mistakes you’ve made, you are worth forgiving.”
“I shouldn’t be,” he whispers. “There are a grand number of things I have done that I shouldn’t be forgiven for.”
“Frankly, Castor? That’s not your decision to make. Forgiveness isn’t about what someone deserves. In fact, I’m pretty sure it’s about the exact opposite.”
Breath leaves him, and he reaches a shaking hand toward his blindfold. “I trust you, my feather. Do not open your eyes until I tell you you may.”
Closing my eyes, I say, “I promise I won’t.”
The second his eyes open, I feel magic shift in the air. The weight of his power consumes every inch of me. His magic fills the space around us, effortlessly, and I shiver, shuddering, beneath the caress of so much him.
Hands gripping the arms of the chair I’m in, I brace myself and pray that whatever he’s trying will work and my belief may be enough for the both of us.