Chapter 23

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I guess it's time to go deeper…

Today is Friday.

The day after Thanksgiving.

Pollux and Andromeda must have been out hunting all night, because he never stopped in to say hi in my dreams.

Every bone in my body aches. Every thought in my head makes a throb rise to my temples.

I have awoken at a reasonable hour, stuck indefinitely on teacher morning body clock, which means sleeping in is a fantasy concept—quite apparently—more "out there" than the fae themselves.

Staring at the ceiling, I languish in the exhaustion that feels like it will never go away.

Maybe, if I can get away with it, I'll feign an illness and stay here until Monday when a miracle cure lets me return to school on time and not need to make up any school days.

After all, I have this month's field trip, holiday decorations, testing, and the Christmas party to prepare for. I cannot be a slug while plotting the holiday cheer that allows my littles to make it through their state assessments. I have to pull out.

Alas.

My ceiling remains so very interesting.

Chai's purring on my stomach means I can't move anyway.

So.

You know.

This is where I die.

At least if I die, everything I care about is somebody else's problem.

I trace patterns in the popcorn ceiling and debate trying to fall back asleep. Last time I met Pollux in the dream plane, he said I summoned him. I could try to do it again.

Narrowing my eyes on the white constellations above my ceiling fan, I contemplate just absolutely yoinking him from his breakfast table. Assuming, of course, he is eating breakfast. My parents haven't gotten up yet, so it's still really early. Possibly too early for breakfast. Potentially still early enough for hunting.

Which may be a kind of breakfast?

I don't know the rules for being a fear vampire.

Maybe the fear replaces one meal, but they still need others throughout the day?

It seems like they need sleep, so hunting must be an active wakefulness for them even if it brings them through the dream plane.

Science suggests that most dreams last between five to twenty minutes, even though they always seem longer.

If time warps in the dream plane, how long do Pollux's and Andromeda's days feel?

I have so many questions.

It feels like they're bursting from the seams of my mind.

And, yet, I've barely scratched the surface. These aren't even my questions about Faerie. They are just the ones related to dream eaters.

Like.

Why are they called that?

If they eat fear, not dreams, why dream eater? Kinda illogical if you ask me.

My phone buzzes in rhythm on the small table beside my bed, and I tilt my head, looking at the screen. It's an unknown number, but it's a local area code. Possibly a parent? At this hour? On break?

Reaching lamely, I continue petting Chai's head and put on my I'm a real person and wide awake and responsible and always am and always will be voice. Which involves smiling. Because science suggests people can hear when you aren't smiling, even if they can't see you. "Hello, Kassandra Role speaking."

"You're awake."

My heart thumps as my smile drops. Pollux.

"I missed the window," he murmurs.

Why is my chest suddenly so tight? "It's all right. You had to take care of hunting with Meda."

"Soon, I may let her hunt alone."

Wetting my lips, I go back to tracing the dots on the ceiling. "Kids grow up so fast."

"She has suggested that she'll maintain this form for a few centuries, at least."

"What?"

A pause. "Right. Your knowledge of us is limited. Dream eaters are malleable creatures. Essentially, we are shapeshifters with very few rules and constraints. If Andromeda wanted to, she could take the form of an adult; however, she doesn't believe she's ready to grow up yet. She likes school."

"And being doted on!" her little voice calls through the speaker. "Through a process of intent observation, I have learned that adults don't get as many cuddles!"

I blink.

"Sorry," Pollux says. "I thought she had drifted off."

"Bamboozled again," she murmurs. "Do the thing!"

"Please provide a more specific noun."

"The thing with the video. Here. Let me see."

After a few moments, a request to video chat appears. Because I can't very well look worse than how I've already behaved in my dreams, I answer it.

Pollux and Andromeda fill the screen. They're on the couch, and she's curled up on his chest.

Grinning, she says, "Hi!"

Pollux pushes her curls out of his face and lets his lips graze her forehead. "Dear one, I was attempting to have a regular phone call."

"This is better. More emotional clues."

I tuck my nose beneath my blankets and adjust my volume, so I won't accidentally wake my parents, before I say, "I thought faeries couldn't be seen on cameras. Or heard on speakers. How does your phone work at all?"

"Willow had Cael make the correct enchantments for the cameras and speakers of this phone before giving it to us," Pollux murmurs.

"Who is Willow if she's ordering the prince around?" As in, an actual prince. Not just an egotistical cult leader. But, to be fair, I would be wary of someone ordering an egotistical cult leader around, too.

Pollux's eyes close. "I believe she identifies as a threat."

Oh, okay. I respect that.

"Anyway," he murmurs, sleepily, "I was calling to apologize for missing out on seeing you and to request your schedule."

"My schedule?"

"In order to identify an acceptable time for us to meet and sort through whatever questions you have."

Chai coos and rolls over. Andromeda begins running her fingers through Pollux's hair and making it stand straight up. I watch them for a moment. Chai purrs.

Remembering myself, I say, "School ends at three fifteen week days. Next Sunday, there's a field trip." My lips purse. "A field trip that I think Meda still needs a parent signature for."

"Oops," Andromeda says. "Did I forget to forge Willow's for that? Let me check my things and see where I put it…" She slips out of the frame, leaving Pollux to wearily open his eyes.

He sighs. "Is forging signatures one of those things you don't approve of?"

"Given the…situation…I'm not certain how much it matters. Exactly how self-sufficient is Meda if she can still throw tantrums hours after coordinating the construction of an entire playground palace?"

"She is fully capable. I'm only monitoring her hunts so I can teach her boundaries and to recognize which dreams carry the scent of uncomfortable material. I want her aware of what is and isn't too far when she deals in the fear of fragile humans. I also want her to avoid seeing certain, unnerving things by mistake." He cuts his fingers through his hair and fixes the spikes. "Age is interesting for the fae."

"How old are you?"

His eyes find the screen, then flick away. "I told you a story from around 800 BC yesterday."

I bite my tongue before I swear. "The wishbone story?"

"Mm."

"Who…was the faerie you didn't want to name?"

He curses. "—Castor." Heaving another sigh, he mutters, "He is many things, but benevolent certainly isn't a trait I'd associate with him. He has raised cults out of boredom, then abandoned them to a desperation that led to horrors when they, too, failed to amuse him for long. His sense of humor has always been somewhat morbid, his manners fairly violent. He's a tornado that can tear apart the foundation of one thing and leave another entirely unscathed. We never knew what side of him we might find ourselves on."

I shudder. "Who is we?"

"Cael and I."

"Since you two don't seem to associate with him on friendly terms anymore, what was the last straw?"

Pollux's brows furrow as he mouths my words, then realization touches his eyes. "Oh. An idiom. I prefer not to talk about it. In a lot of ways, I still care deeply for the—" He swears. "When we severed the depths of our relationship, the conditions were more favorable than they have very recently become. It was an amicable split, where all parties understood clearly that our interests and characters simply couldn't align. Until a mere month ago, Cael had presented the veneer of a seelie fae. When we were still a trio, he used the fa?ade as a means to curb Castor's cruelty. Those efforts of restraint often backfired."

"So…there is a faerie war going on just out of human sight?"

"I wouldn't call it a war at this point. Castor's hurt. He always has been. Like me, he exists with less-than-favorable conditions. Unlike me, mistakes for him don't just cause moments of discomfort. They kill."

It feels disrespectful to be lying down for this, so I ease upright and let Chai flop onto my lap. "Is there anything we can do to help him?"

"Right now, I am more concerned with keeping the people I care about safe. If for some reason you come across him, just make sure you don't look him in the eye."

"Why?"

"In my presence, humans and most seelie fae can't control their feelings of fear. Castor's gaze turns people to stone."

I swallow. "He's a Medusa?"

"A basilisk."

A chill goes down my spine. "If he's so bad, why isn't he just wandering around and looking at people? Humans wouldn't know not to look him in the eye."

"That's the thing, dearest. He either is not so bad or he knows he can't be. Were he to act in such a way without any remorse, Cael and I would put him to rest. His retaliation must be more calculated. If he is planning a suicide mission, his intentions will be to leave the largest scar he can behind."

"Pollux."

"Mm?"

"This is probably a selfish question, but as your…soulmate…would that make me high on his list of targets?"

"He hates Cael more than he hates me. If you do wind up caught in the crossfire, I highly doubt he would harm you. Perhaps it's naive of me, but I still have faith in him. And, perhaps, because of that it is a good thing Cael is in charge…for he does not." Sitting up as well, Pollux swings his legs off the couch and peers down into the phone camera. "I don't wish to discuss this further. Know only that I can find the sensation of your unconsciousness wherever you are and be with you in your mind instantly."

I let those words compute, then grimace. "That's kind of creepy, dreamboy."

A touch of heat crosses his cheeks. "I'm still…dreamboy?"

"Aren't you?"

He cups a hand to his mouth. "May I ask… I know we're putting romance aside for the moment in order to situate other more pressing things, but given that you are my only soulmate, we both know there is attraction between us, and the fact that—in some ways—we are husband and wife…" He manages a breath. "Are you anticipating that we proceed in a more traditional way once you've processed the existence of Faerie? I mean to say, presently, do you foresee wanting that kind of relationship. With…me?"

Shivering, I clear my throat and ignore the warmth soaring up my neck. "Define traditional."

"Married couples generally live together. I had not yet gotten an opportunity to offer you a room in my home, but I have been preparing one. And…" He swears and moves his hand to cover his eyes. "I don't know what I'm doing, Kassandra. You terrify me, and I am unused to the sensation of my own fear. I build terror and experience the full saturation of it dozens of times nearly every night. Yet…you. You." His phone angles off him, at the chandelier on the ceiling. His voice breaks as it comes through the speaker. "You shut my thoughts off. You make it hard to breathe. I don't fear death, or pain, or suffering, but the agony of not knowing how to express myself to you in a way that could somehow present the case that I am worthy enough to be yours…scares me."

I bite my cheeks to keep from blurting something incredibly stupid. I have long since trained my inside thoughts to not become my outside regrets. But. Also. Dang. He's a woman's dream come true, isn't he?

I scare him? This man made of fear? This man whose presence without me, his cute little soulmate in a sweet little blue nightgown and matching night cap, horrifies people?

Excuse me a moment while I enjoy that.

"You want to live together," I say.

"Yes. If you'd like to. At some point. There are many things I'd like, but I require your consent to proceed on them." A shaking breath hits the speaker. "I have no idea how exactly I am meant to meld the customs you know with the ones I do. I want to make things comfortable for you. But none of this is why I called. Please do think about it, though. Are you free today for any more important questions, after school perhaps?"

"It's still break," I say. "I'm free now."

The camera refocuses on his face, and there's a spark in his red eyes that seems wholly boyish in its innocence. "Now?" he asks, tone hopeful. "Would you like me to make you breakfast?"

Yes. I would like that. However, problem. I have parents. Nosy parents. Nosy parents who are invested in us getting human married on top of accidental fae married. Lying and saying I'm heading to Zahra's is not an option.

Because lying on such a large scale is very wrong.

Silence stretches.

Caution mutes the lovely spark as Pollux murmurs, "Did I make an error in assumption?"

"I am attempting to figure out an acceptable way to inform my parents of why I won't be joining them for breakfast."

"Is there any particular reason you aren't telling them that Chai was a proposal kitten?"

Several, actually. Top of which is they will admit me to a mental ward.

Which could be fun.

A nice little vacation.

"Um…" I pull my thoughts off white coats and padded cells and school days that I'm sure I would still somehow need to make up. "I'm not sure they'd understand."

"I haven't known quite how to ask before now…but why did you accept my proposal so quickly?"

Because. It was a kitten. Because. I thought you were drunk and would accidentally kill it if I let you wander off with the tiny baby. Because. It was a kitten.

Honestly, screw the fae and their stupid rules about selling souls for thank yous and getting married over kittens. It's as though the entire culture is fashioned as an attack against me specifically.

I stare down at Chai and rub his soft little belly. Somewhere in my stupid brain a stupid worth it appears. I squash that idiot thought down. "It was an accident."

"An accident?"

"I didn't know what I was doing."

His eyes widen. "Were you inebriated? That party did carry with it a scent of alcohol, but it wasn't on your breath. I apologize if I petitioned you in a state of intoxication. That wasn't my intent."

This sweet man. I feel awful telling him I had no idea that accepting a kitten meant I was getting married. He literally proposed to his soulmate, expecting to be rejected, and wasn't. Afterward, he was so dumbfounded that I had actually accepted, he walked through a bush.

Because, as I now know, stimulants do nothing for him and he couldn't have been drunk.

Come on.

I'm not a monster.

I'm married, and we're just going to roll with that punch along with all the others. Not like I couldn't have done a lot worse when it comes to a husband. Right?

Looking off the camera, I attempt, "Maybe it was…soulmate bond impulse?"

It was concern for a tiny baby. It was one hundred percent concern for a tiny baby. Gracious. What did I just think in regard to lying to my parents? Maybe I am a monster. Maybe that's why this kind man isn't so keen on telling me exactly what type of fae I am. He doesn't want to horrify me with the reality of my own existence.

"I did wonder if you could feel our bond."

Ah, nuts. Now he thinks I can feel some cosmic soul bond between us. Why did I find myself in a hole and decide the smart thing to do was start digging?

Moving right along, he asks, "What time might I expect you if you are able to sort things out with your parents in a favorable way?"

I glance at the time in the top corner of my screen. "They won't be up for at least another hour. So maybe in two?"

He nods once and stands. "I will have things ready."

"Okay."

He hangs up.

I sag, slumping back against my pillow. My nightgown strap slips dramatically off my shoulder as I return my attention to the ceiling.

In my head, I push my shovel into soft earth and toss another load out of the pit.