Chapter 26

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How exactly does one be fae responsibly?

Sandwiches.

I am on the verge of having a breakdown over sandwiches, while I listen to a lover's quarrel, and stare at giant moth wings, which happen to be attached to a person. I don't think I've contacted my parents to let them know that I'm running later than expected, but maybe I have. My brain is busy grappling with this idea that I'm surrounded by powerful creatures, and I'm supposed to be one of them.

It's a lot to take in over cucumber on rye, which is what I made for myself after letting Willow and Alana know I was vegetarian and would, unfortunately, not be partaking of their Thanksgiving rooster. They did not understand I was attempting to politely escape. They just emptied everything in the kitchen that could be made into a sandwich onto the kitchen table.

"You should have called me the second you saw him," Zylus mutters as he pissily constructs his sandwich from the various ingredients in front of me.

"Alana's stronger than you," Willow informs him, merciless.

"Alana is less trained than I."

Willow sips hot chocolate, daintily, out of a glass teacup. "She's also friends with the poor lonely villain boy whose villain arc is somewhat dependent on a lack of acceptance, as far as I can tell. Shoving him further away from the hope that friendship is magic doesn't help anyone."

Zylus slaps some plain mayo onto his bread. "He kissed your cheek."

"I know. Now I can mark starting a scandal with a villainous rake off my bucket list."

Zylus glares.

Willow takes another little sip.

Alana adds an obscene number of corn chip scoops to her sandwich before pressing the pumpernickel slices together and cutting them in four small triangles. "Castor isn't bad," she says.

"You have no idea what he's done." Zylus lets his shoulders sag as he softens his expression. "He acts without remorse, and his reckless abandon has caused so much harm."

"He's fae," Alana says.

"That is no excuse."

"It may not be an excuse, but it can be a reason. All of us were human once, and we are in an environment that promotes care. I've gone with Cael to other environments in Faerie. I've seen wilder places and darker schemes, even among the seelie. On some level, I know what it feels like to have a scream caught in your chest and no one around to hear it or help." Alana bites into her sandwich, chews, and swallows. "Castor isn't bad. He's on the verge of breaking. The people he trusted to understand him didn't. The person he looked up to the most kept things from him. He is fae, so he is different. But he met those like him during an age when they feared the differences he wanted to embrace. Instead of teaching him how to safely be himself, he was taught to subdue what he was. That hurts. Even when it comes from a place of good intentions."

That hurts. Even when it comes from a place of good intentions.

My thoughts wrap around those words as I find Alana's eyes.

She smiles at me. "Are you well, Kass? You've been processing, and you're welcome to continue, but your voice is ready to be heard when you are ready to share it."

Something akin to dread settles heavily in my chest. I try to force a new smile and assure her I'm fine, really. Totally okay over here. But…I can't.

I started this excursion with questions I didn't know how to correctly broach.

And I've done nothing but hold them inside as more and more compile.

Asking any of them feels like the start of a child's why, why, why train, and I've never once been able to reach a satisfactory conclusion whenever I tumble down that spiraling path.

Near every time I've spoken what I'm really thinking, I've learned that my voice is not ready to be heard. I am far too much for the average person to handle. So I bottle myself up into bite-size pieces.

Maybe being around Alana and Willow is what it's like to choke on something that hasn't been tediously chipped down. I barely know what to do or how to respond to all of the beautiful things that are…them.

"Pollux told me about how you were all human once," I whisper, looking toward Zylus. "How long has it been for you?"

He catches my eye. "I don't quite remember. It's been centuries since I shed the humanity I once claimed."

"How…did you all cope with so many changes? How can you be so calm in the face of danger?" Putting my sandwich down, I wipe my hands on a napkin then fold my fingers in my lap, against hundreds of tiny sewn bumblebees. "I'm a teacher. Part of my job is to create a safe environment for my littles. How can I do that if there's so much threatening everything around them? So much unknown that I can't even warn them of?"

"What are you talking about?" Willow lowers her cup. "There's always unknown. This is just a new collection of options inside that never-ending mass. At any given moment, without warning, a tree could fall on top of us. You never know when a bad person might decide you're the next target. Brittny was nearly assaulted, raped, and kidnapped at a Walmart a few months ago. By humans."

Alana coughs, choking on her own hot chocolate. "My baby sister was what now?"

Willow waves the question off. "It's fine. Ollie took care of it. The point is: unknown bad stuff is all over the place. You prepare for it just like you prepare for anything else. There's a different issue making it hard to breathe right now. What is it?"

My heart thumps as Willow looks through me, dark makeup framing piercing gray eyes.

Breath sticks in my lungs as I feel her physically peeling me apart.

"Darling," Zylus murmurs, cautious.

"Hush. I'm wearing her down."

I force my attention to the other half of my sandwich. Somehow, I know she isn't wrong. I'm a teacher in a small town at a small school built upon Christian standards. Despite that, I've seen and heard so many horrible things in my sheltered bubble it's depressing. What is the real reason making me feel like my entire world is coming to an end? I'm not scared. These feelings aren't fear. There's worry, and concern, and unsettle, and exhaustion,but not fear.

Concern and worry make you compassionate.

Fear is entirely unhelpful for others.

So I think…I think I got rid of it along with everything else that was inconvenient for those around me. It's this sensation—this knowledge—that I've chipped pieces of myself that belonged to a different universe off that makes me feel subtly nauseated right now.

I have flushed so much of myself down the drain in an effort to appeal to strangers.

I have become a husk with the sole purpose of making others around me safe, and comfortable, and happy. I was taught living selflessly was the correct way. The right thing to do. I was taught that harmless parts of my character were wrong.

So now I'm tired, and my cup is empty, and I'm just angry. All. The. Time.

Whether I let myself show it or not.

Whatever I do now that has the appearance of kindness no longer comes from the heart.

It comes from my systems, and my standards, and the fa?ade I use to portray whatever it is someone else wants to see.

I swallow the bitter taste of iron on the back of my tongue. "I don't know how to handle this suggestion that everything I've been taught to believe is a lie." I press my hand to my mouth and close my eyes. "I know I can't have both the life I've put so much effort into, and this new one. But which do I choose when one is everything I've ever known, and the other…might be everything I wish I knew?"

Willow hums. "We're not raised to be ourselves, Kass. You realize that, don't you?"

As though it weighs a hundred pounds, I tilt my head forward in a nod.

"I'm not accusing you, but do you think a part of what's messing you up so much is the fact you've been in a position that feeds that concept to kids? Parents and society want a certain type of child and they charge teachers with enforcing it. Feeling wrong sucks, but you can fix it. You can recognize that you are in control of your own self and get to the bottom of it with enough time and care. Feeling as though you've pushed the wrongness into others, though…"

My throat closes as I open my eyes and find Willow watching me. It hurts to swallow again, and the taste of iron has grown thicker.

"Know better; do better," she says.

I swear I've heard those exact words somewhere else recently.

But what Willow doesn't seem to understand is that I am not at liberty to do better without permission. Parents and society will continue to demand their children present themselves in a certain way. It's the only way they'll succeed in this messed up world. The truth doesn't matter if it stands in the way of function.

This world does not value the truth.

The system is broken, but too many things would need to change in order for its destruction to lead to something better.

Knowledge is a burden because it charges us with doing better, even if we can't.

"I'm exhausted," I whisper, and my voice breaks. "Every day. I pretend not to be. Because I thought that was how it worked. I thought everyone felt like this. I thought it was normal. How many children have I taught to be exhausted, too? How many kids who are more fragile than Meda have I guided away from their beliefs because I didn't share them? Because I've been taught not to share them? Because they weren't what society told me was valued? What am I supposed to do with this information?" I look around the table, from Alana, to Willow, to Zylus. "How do you take responsibility for more power than you ever thought would be within your reach? How do you use it to make something better if it still isn't enough to change the world? How do you find the balance between accountability and abuse?"

Alana and Willow glance at each other, then Willow clears her throat while Alana presses her lips together.

I search for answers in their expressions, and come up dry.

Zylus murmurs, "They won't have the answer you're looking for, Kass. They regularly abuse the powers they've been given access to."

"Are we bad people?" Alana asks. "I feel like we might be bad people. Is struggling with a vast moral dilemma how we were supposed to encounter magic? Was replicating Barbie dress transformations instead…wrong?"

"No, no." Willow plants a hand at her chin. "If Castor isn't a bad person, we're obviously delightful."

Alana mimics Willow's position. "You present a valid point that does seem to be a reasonable assessment."

Zylus shakes his head and smiles tenderly at his wife as he addresses me. "No one person is responsible for fixing the world alone, Kass. No one person is ever granted that kind of power. Focus on what's in reach. There are lives you can change without crippling yourself." He turns his attention to me and smiles. "Sometimes, that life only has to be yours. People care about you. If all you can manage is taking care of yourself, you will still be making a brighter world for the ones who want you to thrive."

Alana slaps the table. "Exactly. Sometimes the best we can do is stay alive. And you wanna know something?" Her gaze bores into my soul. "That is more than enough."