Chapter 22

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The nightmare continues.

"Pollux seems very sweet," Mom says as we tag team the dishes. "If a little awkward. Poor thing."

I barely register her words while I stare into the basin of soapy water and scrub the same plate five hundred times. After that snap, Pollux's eyes were like my dreamboy's for a moment. My stomach hurts, but not even I can convince myself it's because I ate too much.

Chai circles my ankles, purring, and he may be holding onto the last thread of my sanity.

I don't want to think about anything.

I want to turn my brain off and sink into an abyss of thoughtless nothing.

"Meda desperately needs a mother, though."

Brow furrowing, I realize the dish is the cleanest it has ever been and get another. "What do you mean?"

"She was very rude."

"What?"

Mom hums. "It's clear she's been raised by a single father who dotes on her. There was no discipline. He let her have whatever she wanted however she wanted it. Not once did he remind her to sit still. She interrupted conversation whenever she had something to say. And did you notice how she told her father he was talking too much?" She sighs as she wipes a serving bowl and tucks it into the cabinet. "Honestly, she reminds me of you when you were little."

I turn to my mother, if I can even still call her that. "Um. Ow. Are you saying I was rude? I thought I was a good kid."

"You were. So is Meda. But if nothing changes, things will be hard for her. You were my baby, and I spoiled you. I let you be hyper and ramble. I thought you were so fascinating when you were little that I didn't want to curb your spirit. It was only after you started going to school and other mothers were constantly telling me how rude and controlling you were that I realized I may have messed up."

"Controlling?"

"You'd make up elaborate games and then orchestrate them. When the other kids didn't play right, you'd throw fits. You never really got along well with people your age. Even when you were practically a baby yourself, you wanted to help take care of the other babies and talk with the adults." Mom pushes a few curls over my ear. "I like Meda, but she needs a mother who can help her so she doesn't turn out how you almost did. Sweet, but spoiled a bit too rotten for her own good. Also, I think Pollux likes you…so…"

"Mom. No."

"I'm just saying."

Heat crawls up my neck as the slew of facts I'm still coming to terms with battle for purchase in my brain. Pollux is most likely a faerie. I am…something. And, you know, we're soulmates. So that's fun. I don't even know what that really means. All I know is that I feel nauseous, and I can barely stomach what my mother is telling me right now even without all this date and marry him garbage.

"He's beautiful," Mom notes.

"I know that," I mutter. I bet all the fae are beautiful. Actually, I know all the fae are beautiful. I had a movie night with a bunch of them, and they were all pretty. Heaven help me.

"You have so much experience with kids, and when it comes to being a parent, your father and I can help you. Pollux didn't mention Meda's mother at all, so I doubt you need to worry about living up to his first relationship. It most likely ended for a good reason."

I mean, actually, Andromeda claims to have two mothers, and one's a guy, so. Not sure how I can live up to Willow and Zylus. Who knows what Willow is, but a vampire cat is kind of a high bar. "Mom, please…" I murmur. "I'd rather not talk about this."

"Didn't you see the way he looked at you?"

"Yes." I close my eyes, try to take a calming breath, but it's impossible, because all I can see is the way he looks at me. In my dreams.

"Is there something I don't know about?" Mom asks.

Yes. So much. "I think you're just a little biased because he brought you flowers."

She laughs. "They're beautiful. And you know something?"

"Hm?"

"I dated a lot in my teens and twenties before meeting your father. He was the only one who brought my mother flowers." She nudges me. "The way men treat mothers shows how they'll treat a wife. Respecting all women and not just the ones a man is attracted to says a lot about their character. I like him. Do with that what you will."

Well. Fantastic. Chalk that up to something else I have absolutely no idea what to do with…

?

I don't make it up the sidewalk before Pollux is stepping out into the cold and closing the door behind him. My stomach dips low as I stop in between the tall, brown grass in front of his haunted manor. A chilling breeze rushes between us as I bundle myself up in my coat, arms crossed tight over my chest.

It's late.

I couldn't sleep.

While I tossed and turned, Mom's words after dinner replayed in my head a thousand times, and my stomachache got worse, and I wanted to cry.

I was like Andromeda when I was little.

Too hyper.

Too loud.

Too much.

And other parents cautioned my mother about me how she cautioned me about Andromeda.

Well-meaning words in order to snuff out the light so it won't blind people who don't understand. Well-meaning words that carry a singular message of conform.

And I did.

I conformed so well I hardly know who I am anymore. I built an entire life around the conformation and exhaustion. I built it so well that I don't have a clue how to undo it without losing everything.

Pollux steps forward, toward me. "Kassandra—"

"Stay there," I whisper.

He goes still. "I'm sorry."

"Show me who you really are."

His eyes close, and pain creases his brow, but when he looks at me again, his eyes are red. The whites are black. He forces a grimace that shows off sharp teeth.

"Where's the rest of it?" I ask.

He threads his fingers through his hair. "This is the form I normally take outside the dream plane. It's the most comfortable for me and others. The…claws can get in the way of everyday activities."

I grip my hand around my arm, bury my fingers in the fabric of my coat and the sensation of my muscle beneath it. "Last time we spoke, in the dream plane, you didn't want to give me hard proof so soon. What changed in a week? My parents are human, aren't they? Why couldn't you just let Andromeda say thank you to my mother?"

"Because," he grumbles, "those words are precious to us. We use them sparingly, for the only one we trust with our soul. Andromeda has never thanked a single person. One day, she will get to say those words to her soulmate and no one else. I would not ask her to sacrifice that moment for the meaningless comfort of a useless social expectation centered around a feeble concept of politeness." Rubbing his jaw, he lifts his attention skyward. "Forgive me, Kassandra. When I kept her in this world, I made a commitment to protect her. Even if you would reject me, even if it risks your security, I must put her first." His voice breaks. "No matter how painful it is to see you hurting, she's my little girl."

My heart thuds. The tension in my shoulders releases.

Pollux lowers his face, and his damp eyes find me a moment before an ink-dark tear falls down his cheek, hits the sidewalk, and dissipates into a curl of steam. "Are you well? Can I do anything to help?"

Pressing my lips together, I watch him. The entire drive over, my mind felt blank. I didn't even know what I was expecting to gain from this. I'm embarrassed. Ashamed. I'm so tired, lost.

I feel like an idiot.

"We're soulmates?" I whisper.

"Yes."

"Is that why you think we're married?"

His head shakes. "No. We're married because you accepted my proposal."

"Your proposal?"

"The kitten. I had intended it as a marriage kitten."

One dot. Two dots. Three dots.

My system crashes.

I cover my mouth. "Oh." I accepted a faerie proposal. I'm fae married. What an unwelcome turn of events at the end of a long road of corkscrew U-turns. Gracious, what a delightful cherry atop this glorious disaster. I'll mentally compartmentalize that at a later point. "Well then. We're married. Moving on." Dropping my arm, I clamp my hands together in front of my skirt. "I have boundaries."

"Of course."

"And a lot of questions."

"Naturally."

"I'll start with my boundaries tonight, because I don't think I have the mental fortitude for the questions at this hour."

He nods once.

"First off, everything that has happened between us in the dream plane…hasn't happened."

His brow furrows above those dark, blood red eyes.

"I'm a skank. Let's agree to never bring it up again."

"I don't think you're a—"

"Next thing, you're not allowed to claim me without my permission. This is a lot to take in. I need to make sense of it and reclaim who I am before we proceed romantically in any way." I free a breath, close my eyes. "I'm sorry so far for leading you on. I didn't know what I was doing."

"I promise I will not claim you without permission. A fae's promise is binding."

I search his eyes. "I appreciate it."

"Is there anything else that will bring you comfort tonight?"

"Zahra. Some faerie needs to talk to her and explain why she can hear what she can't see."

"I imagine it's because she's part fae as well. Unfortunately, I cannot tell you what kind or provide further information. Humans who are unable to perceive Faerie go insane if they are brought into that world. There is nothing I can do for her and no answers I can provide that would make anything better."

"Can anyone you know tell her what she is?"

"I do not recommend seeking out the only person I know capable of classifying strangers."

My eyes narrow. "But there is someone?"

He sighs, almost defeated. "Castor."

From what I've heard about Castor, I don't think I want Zahra around him, either. From what I've gathered, he's currently lurking in this town, ready to take revenge on Cael for hurt feelings. Letting Zahra talk to the evil prince Andromeda has brought up time and again is not a good idea. Setting the matter aside for the moment, I forge wearily on. "Me."

"You?"

"You know what I am. How come?"

He grunts. "The bond of soulmates gives me a unique access to the sensation of your soul. I can taste what you are on the tip of my tongue."

I shiver. "Well?"

"At this precise moment, it is more important that we discover who you are prior to revealing what."

"Why?"

"For all the same reasons I have been cautious thus far. You have delicately woven barriers in your mind and constrained your actions in order to present a more palatable fa?ade for the environment you've found yourself in." He lifts his hand, offering. "Allow me to educate you in the essence of Faerie in an effort to ease you into my world. I love you, Kassandra. I want to take care of you. I want to learn more about you. I want to see you free and breathtakingly happy. If you have trusted me enough to come here tonight, please believe that you are safe and in control. With your permission, all I ask is that you let me be your guide."

I flick my gaze down to his hand, then back up to his eyes. "The fae can't lie?"

"Correct."

"Not even the darker ones? The unseelie ones, like you?"

"It is a law that does not discriminate. Every word I will ever speak to you must either be something I believe that has no contradicting facts or the simple truth."

I take a step forward, then another, and another, until I'm standing inches from red and black eyes. I settle my hand in his and watch his pupils dilate. "You really love me, don't you?

"So much more than I can even comprehend."

"How can you love someone who doesn't even know who they are?"

"I adore the potential of whatever you might become. A love based on anything that can be quantified is fickle. People grow. They learn. They incorporate new knowledge into their characters." Bending, he touches a kiss to my fingertips. "My love is not a conditional sort you will ever need to concern yourself with losing as you adapt and find the person you want to be."

It's a beautiful idea.

I squeeze his hand, and he lifts his attention, but not his head.

Our eyes meet.

My jaw clenches. "I am glad you're not actually abusing your daughter, or in a cult."

"I'll not quibble over it, but the cult thing was definitely outside my wildest expectations," he mumbles.

"What else was I supposed to do with the statement we believe in the fae? Why would you even say that and assume it wasn't going to concern me? It makes you sound like an insane person! An insane person who is taking one of my littles off into insane land!" My voice pitches.

"In case you haven't noticed, Kassandra, my social abilities where human mentalities are concerned happen to be severely lacking."

"Yeah," I huff. "I've noticed."

"The humans speak an incredibly different and roundabout language. It confuses me. I apologize for the emotional strain I have caused due to it." Rising to his full height, Pollux looks down at me, lifts his free hand, and draws one knuckle across my cheekbone. Unwelcome heat rises in the wake of his touch, and the corners of his mouth soften. "All is well, dearest. You are taking this better than my worries had convinced me you would."

"Don't you dare…"

"Dare to what?"

I pull my gaze off him. "I don't know," I mumble. "Seduce me like that."

He turns his hand and caresses the pad of his thumb around my ear. "Is that what I'm doing? It's not intentional."

"Somehow, that makes it even worse."

"How come?"

"It's a pride thing. When people are aware they're attractive or smart, it's annoying, but if they're oblivious, if it's just natural for them, it's beautiful."

"I suppose the strangeness of humans shouldn't surprise me at this point. I have spent many years coloring dreams into nightmares with little certainty on what exactly sets the horrors of each apart. And, yet, this concept that humans find an absence of awareness attractive baffles me."

"Pride is irritating. Confidence can quickly become cocky. I know. I've watched and learned."

"I would appreciate it if you unlearn what you have watched. You are smart, and beautiful, and I at least am not offended if you act like you know it."

I try to step back, but his hold on my hand remains firm; the tickle of his touch against my cheek stays present. "Please release me. I think I'm going to go home now."

"In a moment."

"Wh—"

"Dearest…it is important to me that I tell you this before you go."

I swallow. "What?"

"It isn't inappropriate or wrong for you to desire affection. As someone who has never before been the object of such desires, would you consider for a moment that it might hurt to learn you are not proud of wanting me?"

My lips part as his words—the sincerity and directness of his delivery—gut me to my core. "I'm sorry. I didn't…"

He touches two fingers to the center of my chest, slightly to the left. "Your feelings matter. The ones you've been taught are unsavory have purpose. We do not shame beautiful things like too much love or excitement. We even have a high tolerance for too much mischief. The only things we must reassess are the ones that harm. Wanting me does the opposite of harm." His head cocks. "Okay?"

My mouth goes dry, and I don't know how to respond without making a fool of myself, so all I can say is, "Will I see you again tonight? When I dream."

"If I can, I will stop in to see you."

"If you can?" I whisper, hating how desperate I sound.

"Meda's sleeping for a little while right now since today's event exhausted her. Once she wakes, I need to take her out hunting."

"Hunting?"

"We feed on fear from the nightmares we craft. We hunt for humans who need them. It is my understanding she calls our hunts work in front of you in an effort to soften the concept. We have learned to be careful with what we are and how that affects others."

I say, "Who would need a nightmare?"

"Scientific studies show that nightmares are one of the brain's many ways of managing stress. Not all the things people need are pretty. Sometimes, humans need a reminder that there's a problem worth processing, addressing, and correcting. Because, dearest, even fear is an emotion worthy of attention, no matter how it might inconvenience someone else." He lets my fingers slip from his as he takes a step back. "Suppression only helps other people, and too often those other people are unworthy of that particular help. Sleep well." Pollux turns toward the front door.

My heart jumps.

I don't know why, but I trip forward, grab the hem of his shirt, and stop him.

Beautiful, dark, and monstrous eyes glance at me over his shoulder. "Yes?"

"It's gonna be okay, right? Everything is gonna be okay, right?"

"It is going to be better than okay." Facing me, he lifts my chin and kisses my forehead. "Do not worry, Kassandra. You are loved."

I drive home with Pollux's words on repeat in my skull. They're a gentle pound that overrides the things my mother said to me. They're strong enough to fill my chest with air and guide me to rest once I find my way back to my bed.

The idea that I'm loved isn't foreign.

After all, I didn't grow up in a cold world like Zahra.

But…something about the way Pollux said you are loved feels different.

Like, for the first time in my life, being loved relies on nothing.

For the first time in my life, all the weight of an expectation to play a role…is gone.