Chapter 29

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Tell no one . But. Castor is my new father figure.

At my side, Alexios vibrates, his perfect hair tousled in ways I've never witnessed before. Strands that have escaped from his braid hang in disarray while he takes deep breaths and clings to my hand like a lifeline.

The hand-holding is interesting.

But I'm allowing it.

Together, we make it from my bike garage toward the house while he aimlessly pushes hair away from his face with his shaking free hand.

"Are you good?" I ask, casting a glance back at him.

His eyes jet toward mine, and heat fills his face. He wets his lips. "That was…a unique experience."

For both of us.

I've never ridden with a passenger before.

Having someone gripping me from behind for dear life was a whole new level of touch .

He could have taken advantage of the situation before I ever started the engine. It would have been so easy to play copping a feel off like an accident. I probably would have believed him, too, and been too startled to realize whether or not he'd said he was sorry.

The fae can only apologize if they mean it, after all.

It would have been so, so very easy…

And, yet, he didn't even put his own hands on me.

He spread them for me and told me to place them wherever was most comfortable.

In some ways, pulling his body to mine did worse things to my brain than his misplaced hand might have.

We've never been so close for so long before.

Even sleeping together, I might mess with his bunny ears for a moment or hug him for a minute, but I always squarely distance us before I fall asleep watching Ash through the bars of his crib.

Now that I'm thinking about it, Alexios has never abused sharing a bed, either.

Maybe he can't. Maybe it's all tied up in his consent promise.

Or maybe consent and care and kindness and consideration never needed to be a promise for him.

Maybe they are just who he is.

Shaking my head free of stupidness, I grip his hand tighter and stop on my porch, beside my swing. "Was the experience a unique good or a unique bad ?"

"A unique may we do it again sometime ? A unique were you serious about teaching me how to drive ?"

I scan him.

He is physically trembling.

"Those were both questions, so they don't hold you to any truths. Did you like riding a motorcycle, or not?"

"I did not hate it."

Well. That certainly doesn't mean he liked it.

His lips part again, and he murmurs, "I…enjoyed being close to you." Losing much of his tenderness, he cocks his head back and lets a foul expression twist his lips. "Even if you said that I did not need a helmet because flying off the vehicle would hardly harm a faerie."

"Alana met Cael when she hit him with her car. She told me he was totally fine."

" Surviving such an impact does not mean it did not hurt ."

Making a mental note to order a helmet for homeboy, got it.

Laughing, I push inside my house and find Castor in my living room with Ash.

The second we approach, Castor's entire demeanor brightens. "Xios. Razah." He presents Ash's little swaddled body. "Is he smiling? He hasn't cried for an hour. Do you think he's coming to like me?"

Ash…looks constipated. His little face scrunches the second his eyes lock on Alexios and I, then…a few whimpers turn into wriggles and sobs.

Castor's smile disappears. "Was it all an elaborate hoax? Have I been played by this infant, my feelings tugged around like a ship in a storm?"

"Seems so." I pat Alexios's hand. "Do you need a moment, or can you give us a moment?"

Releasing a massive sigh, Alexios treads dramatically forth and sweeps Ash away from Castor, settling him instantly. "That's right… Daddy's here." He taps kisses to Ash's sweet forehead while sweeping out of the living room, toward the kitchen. "You like Daddy better, don't you? Mm. Yes. Is it because Daddy's cuter? Probably? Good boy."

Hands tucked together beneath the long sleeves of his elegant robe, Castor mutters, "How actually dare he…"

How dare he indeed…

I keep telling him he's yet to achieve father of my child status. Nonetheless, something about the sight breeds peace inside my aching chest.

"What is it?" Castor clips. "You've something weighing in your mind. How does it involve me? In case you weren't aware, I have been behaving myself phenomenally well."

Am I ever going to get used to the fae's advanced perceptions?

No.

Probably not.

Stomach souring, I cross my arms. "Castor. Xios tells me you two had a discussion while I was ill."

"Yes? What of them? I visited periodically, helped with the chores, and we talked about the injustice of canceling LARP day."

Really? My brow arches, and I scan the evil villain prince in all his lavish attire.

Then I recall I have seen him cosplaying as a blind ninja and move my expectations for villainy all the way to the ground.

Forging on, I grip my nails into my flesh. "He told you about my father, and what happened."

"Ah. That discussion. He made me promise beforehand not to share whatever it was he told me, so I cannot discuss this with you."

"My father—" My throat closes, stopping me from reaching what I'm trying to say. It hurts to even think about him. I spent so many years after what happened terrified of being alone with him ever again. I screamed at God every night when I couldn't fall asleep, knowing a monster was in my house. Shaking, I listened to the voices of unseelie fae gather around me, spilling nightmares into my skin, and while I never could mention what had happened to my mother, I did tell her about those voices.

I hoped, maybe delusionally, she might save me. I hoped she would prove that she loved me enough to assume the devil was attacking her innocent child, and she would fight with me against him.

That is not what happened.

I release my air. Force myself to speak. "Have you already paid my father a visit?"

Moments pass, stretching like hours.

At last, Castor says, "Yes."

The wicked convoluted bombardment of feelings that hits me sends my mind rolling. There's sick, twisted satisfaction in knowing I tried to be good , but God had already allowed retribution to happen. I croak, "How did you find him?"

"I know your name. I know where you work. It was simple enough to get your social security and unravel your birth records. Barely took me an afternoon."

My lips press together. "You…didn't even use magic?"

"I used a bit…to break into the school employment records. But, beyond that? No. Not really."

Awful curiosity plagues me. "What…what did you do to him?"

Castor dips his face, draws his hands from his robes, and pushes the curtain of his hair back. Softly, he says, "I did not do anything to him, Razah."

When I swallow, it's sharp. "Why…not?"

"Because, sweet girl," Castor murmurs, "he was doing enough to himself."

Tears threaten. "Is he… Are they okay? Did you see my mother?"

"They are alive."

"You know what a human means when they ask if someone is okay , Castor." I choke on my air. "Please, don't complicate this."

"Unfortunately, Razah, life is complicated. How do you want me to answer your question? I have already alluded to the fact your father is doing poorly. Are you interested in details of his suffering? Or…does something inside you want me to clarify that, somehow, what I've said already doesn't mean what it sounds like and that they are doing better than they deserve?"

Icy sensations wash over me as I squeeze my arm, close my eyes, and try to dissect his question. Emotions swirl, messy, and I don't know what to do with them or how to read them.

A good Christian would want the latter. A good Christian would concede to a revelation that they don't actually wish harm on anyone, not even their greatest enemies.

Sir…

I don't think I'm a very good Christian.

"Is he really suffering so much that you did nothing , or are you not so invested in avenging anyone other than yourself?"

Castor reaches for me, and my muscles constrict, but all he does is pry my nails out of my arm, letting me crush his hand instead. "Your father reeks of death. Everything inside him is a bog of festering cessation. He spends his days drowning in whatever might distract him from the inevitable. His heart beats, but his mind is vacant and destroyed, steeping in false ideas as it rots. There is little I could do that he would register as anything of consequence. He is too far gone for torture to be anything different from his daily affairs."

I feel…sick.

When my knees give way, Castor helps me to the couch and sits beside me. He remains during a long quiet as my thoughts rampage.

The tears I've fought overflow.

I whisper, "My mother…?"

"She retains life, but lives joylessly. Her confusion, guilt, and feelings of abandonment follow her in every moment. She does not know what she keeps doing wrong, what she ever did to deserve the lot she has. Sincerely, that household is void of hope." Castor squeezes my hand in return, murmuring, "Truly…it was a nostalgic experience."

For both of us, I guess. Devoid of hope is exactly what I remember growing up with.

"Can you…help them?" I ask as my body feels like it's caving in on itself.

"I'm sorry." Carefully, Castor wraps one arm around my shoulders in an awkward hug. "I am an omen of unhelpful things. I bring death and chaos in my wake."

"Could I help them, if I were fully fae and found someone willing to share abilities that could save them with me?"

"Child…" Castor murmurs, freeing my hand and using his sleeve to dry my face. "It is not your responsibility to face them ever again."

"But, I have to do something."

"You don't."

"But—"

"I understand our beliefs clash. You aspire to live selflessly. I hold too much spite to care about such things. But, listen to me, you believe in armies that rise up at your request. You believe in forces that far exceed the powers of the fae. You believe in a different Father than the one who tainted your home. Do you believe, after everything, that Father would ask you to return to these specific front lines? Or…is there a chance…all He expects of you is to give this to Him and let his armies take care of it?"

Sniffling, I bite my cheek and battle for breath. "You make a horrible evil prince, Castor."

He smiles. "I do prefer to think of myself as a villain over an evil prince , Razah. Only some definitions of villain would claim me as evil. Most suggest I merely stand in opposition to a hero. And we are on the same side, are we not?"

Clenching my fist, I glare down at my lap. "Xios has already told you. We aren't taking sides."

"Pity, seeing as I find myself taking yours." Releasing me, Castor rises. "I am here for you, Razah. If there is anything I can do, you know where to find me."

※

Once upon a time, there was a city so evil, God sent a man to warn it that it might be destroyed if all the people did not repent. Once upon a time, that man ran from God, hating that city while knowing his God's great love would spare any—no matter how terrible—if they returned to Him.

It goes on to show that the main character cared more for a tree giving him shade than a city full of people.

The entire book about it is only four chapters long.

So I read it before bed, and then I pray—not for the city and not for the tree. I honestly haven't made it far enough to reach either…

Right now, I just need to stop running long enough for the pain to heal.

Maybe then, I'll be able to give my hatred away and rejoice in the fact that there is no sin too great for God to forgive, so long as we sincerely repent.