Chapter 42

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The cruelest thing one can leave a villain with is hope.

Standing on my toes, I pace on the edge of my dream island, feeling my sanity flood away like all the sand pouring off. Pollux tried and failed to kiss me, because kissing me would claim me, and claiming me would give me the ability to perceive Faerie and handle the magic now invading my flesh.

Prior to that attempt, however, he had wanted me to jump.

I glance off the island at the vast nothingness swallowing sand.

Right now, I can't control anything. I already tried to mend the cracks and push the sand away, but it is too angry. It shoved back against me until I had to scramble to stop myself from falling. The solution can't be to jump off. How do I even know that was really Pollux? How do I even know this is really one of my dreams?

If I can't control what's happening anymore, maybe I'm stuck in an enchantment of Castor's devising.

Under that context, jumping off would mean giving him what he wants. And I won't do that. I refuse.

I refuse all of this.

The moment I think so, my world turns black.

Then voices drift into my ears—Andromeda's…Castor's.

"Why are you doing this, Uncle Castor?" Andromeda demands. "You know it's bad for her. She can't be here right now. Daddy hasn't claimed her yet."

"Little lamb, if you do not stop calling me Uncle Castor, I may grow fond of you."

Andromeda huffs, tiny and protesting. "That's the intention, you ding dong."

Castor laughs.

"Let us go home before Mrs. Role snaps."

"Do you know how many humans I've seen snap, little lamb?"

"Hopefully zero, or else they'd turn to stone."

Castor hums. "I did not bring you by my collection. Would you like a tour now of my lonely home of statues?"

"Absolutely not. That doesn't sound age appropriate."

I'm on something soft. I can feel my clothes, just like I can feel the pressure in my skull, the sand streaming through an hourglass in my ears. The scarf I was wearing seems to have been tied around my head…so since I doubt Castor would take that precaution, Andromeda must be in a place that can reach me. We haven't been separated.

She sounds okay.

"Age appropriate…" Castor murmurs somewhere deeper in whatever room he has us in. "Pollux truly has raised you in tame waters. Let's play a game."

"What are you doing?" Andromeda whispers.

"She's awake," Castor says.

My heart jerks—cold, hard fear running like ice into my veins.

Andromeda's voice hardens, impenetrable. "Mrs. Role, he's taken his blindfold off. Keep your eyes closed in case he takes your scarf off."

"Please. Would I really do something terrible like that?" Castor chuckles. "I can say it's nice to have a role reversal now and again, isn't it, Mrs. Role?"

Cautiously, limbs trembling, I dare to sit up on what might very well be a bed. I'm not bound in any way, so I lift my hands and tighten the scarf. "Why did you bring us here?"

"I only needed Andromeda. You refused to separate yourself from her. But, well, it's still all working out in the end, isn't it? Clever of you to call Pollux through the cracks in my barrier. How silly of me to put them there…no?"

Stomach swirling, I feel my way across the comforter, toward Andromeda's voice and a dip in the mattress. I find her, and her small hand grips mine. I ask, "Why did you need Andromeda?"

"Because she has a little bit of your magic on her, doesn't she? Shame she's buried it in her body, isn't it?" Sounding entirely unbothered, Castor says, "Alas, alas, my plans surely aren't going as smoothly as I hoped, are they?"

The phrasing prickles somewhere deep in me, raising all sorts of red flags. "Why are you speaking in questions?"

"Whatever do you mean?"

"Is this exactly going to plan?"

"Are you suggesting that I, after centuries and centuries of existence, made a plan involving one of the two people I know best in this entire world, and it's going exactly how I expected? Now, don't be silly, child. I have said already I did not mean to bring you. That is a deviance from the plan in and of itself. However…you could use this opportunity, if you so desire."

So. This is going exactly to plan, and depending on his definition of opportunity, I don't know if I should even be asking. "What do you mean?"

"You could end this. You could be strong enough to take Andromeda away with you. You could slice open the world and step through to wherever you want. You are capable of bending reality and creating your own personal trods. The only thing stopping you is the human parts you cling to. Your salvation from my grasp is accepting that you are meant to be fae. Your salvation is casting off the burden of your humanity."

"Burden?" I hiss. "What makes you think my humanity has been a burden?"

"Because," he murmurs, "I've been watching you since shortly after Andromeda found you and Cael's betrayal came to light. Humans love to share poetic stories about what makes them human. They love to pretend it's their desire for connection, or their capacity for love. Do you know what really makes a human, human?"

"I'm sure you have a definition that doesn't align with mine."

"Likely. Unlike you, I have not found myself inundated with the propaganda of humanity's glorious conquests. Humans are mistakes bound together with selfishness. Every sacrifice you have made to fit into the community stems from a deep-seated desire to be accepted. To want acceptance is greed. Humanity is wicked. It is humanity's need for salvation that makes it human. Therefore, to be human is a burden that someone must bear."

His words roll over in my brain as I attempt to ease the unfamiliar panic in my heart. "That's…an oddly Christian point of view, Castor."

"There's too much guilt associated with that term for my liking. Christianity in this modern world too often has become a lifestyle of sanctified judgment beneath the banner of the One who says I am judge. Damnation never changed the heart. Fear of punishment leads to actions based only on preservation. Preservation, at its core, is selfish. Yet again, the human nature reigns supreme. It is why your Scriptures say unto death you are loved and only into death can you accept that love."

Maybe it's just the horrible headache crawling up my neck and beating a drum into my ears, but it is getting harder for me to be upset with Castor. Which, of course, is a simple enough thing for someone well-versed in manipulation to achieve. Believing truths doesn't mean he abides by them.

"Anyway," Castor murmurs, "the point is, you lose nothing by accepting what you actually are and getting rid of your humanity. It may not save your soul on some cosmic scale, if that is what you believe, but it will free it from the burden of many appearances. At the very least, the fae are more upfront about their sins."

"And," I mutter, "as a bonus, I could get us out of here, right?"

"Precisely."

"What's in it for you?"

"At this point in time? Nothing. Care to know why Pollux thinks Cael would seek to confine you if you come into yourself too sharply?"

"If you can state what you assume clearly and plainly, sure."

"You are capable of destroying the reality of this world and creating a different one. Without control of that ability, you can break yourself and the minds of everyone around you. Polly worries Cael will respond prematurely. Pollux has grown much too soft in Cael's world. It is his instinct to overwhelm and consume, but he hesitates to hurt you. He, of all people, should know that pain is an unfortunate side effect of life."

My free hand clenches into a fist against my thigh. "You're wrong. He knows that growth isn't always comfortable. His mind is incredible, and I trust fully that he has thought every action where I am concerned through countless times."

Castor laughs briefly. "Child, that's called overthinking. And, yes, Polly is great at it."

"Ultimately, I don't trust why you want me to embrace becoming fully fae, if I can even figure out how to. I trust whatever reasons he has for being cautious."

"Kassandra Eve Role," Castor says, as though it's common knowledge to know my full legal name. "I do hope you will take these words to heart—sand is overwhelming, yet it makes a terrible long-term foundation. Your powers are overwhelming to perceive and dangerous if you toy with relying on them to fix what you don't like. You have the ability to control more than mortals should, but having power does not justify its abuse. Even under a context of righteousness, power that forces another's will completely should not be used."

"Mrs. Role is…" Andromeda begins, so softly I can hardly hear her.

"Shh." Castor sighs, going silent for several moments. "We are respecting Polly's wishes. That is the least I can offer an old friend as penance for the trouble I've caused today."

My throat closes. "Meda." I squeeze her hand. "You know what I am?"

"Yes."

"Can I really get you out of here?"

Her fingers tighten around mine. "That isn't why you should accept becoming fully fae, Mrs. Role." Her hand unravels from around mine, then the indent of her weight slips out of my reach.

"Meda," I hiss, reaching blindly.

Her voice rises from nearer where Castor's has been drifting. "Uncle Castor, please. I promise I'll sit here and wait for you to come back if you take Mrs. Role home to her parents' house and let her be after this."

"An interesting proposal. I'll have to decline."

"You just said that a power that forces someone against their will should not be used. If you keep her here for too long, she'll be forced to either break or adapt whether she wants to or not."

Castor drones, "Little lamb, where in this entire event did you decide I abide by some higher moral code?"

"Daddy still believes in you. Daddy still cares about you."

"Yes, well, that would be his undoing, wouldn't it? Care to know something about your daddy and yourUncle Cael? Between the two of them, one carries their morals in an unless fashion, the other a regardless one."

"What does that mean?" Andromeda asks.

"Cael holds to his morals unless something happens. He would have found a way to torture me within an inch of my life daily if I'd intentionally kidnapped his moth princess recently. Pollux, above many things, craves peace. He hates pain. He hates death. He is soft. He relies too entirely on his presence being a threat, because he is not emotionally prepared to lift a finger without consent. Wrongs are wrong to him, regardless. My wrongs do not make any he could commit right."

Andromeda sniffles. "Daddy cares so much about everyone. It's not kind to use his care against him."

"When have I ever claimed to be kind?"

"Please," Andromeda whispers. "Mrs. Role is hurting, and I can taste her fear. She's never been scared in front of me before. Please."

"Do not worry. Even if this event allows her to regain the ability to access the full range of her emotions, it is not her absence of fear that cancels the presence of yours. It is the foundation of her character, which seeks to create a safe space for everyone around her. In spite of herself."

"I'm not worried about that." Andromeda's voice shakes. "I'm worried about her."

"She will survive. It takes humans days to go fully mad even without the precaution you've taken in covering her eyes. I anticipate we have perhaps minutes before your father reaches us."

Pollux would be here in minutes? Does that mean I get to sit pretty like a damsel in distress and wait for him?

I am A-OK with that.

I just wish I could still reach Andromeda. And that my head didn't feel so clouded with sand.

The origin point of Castor's voice changes, getting closer. "As we do only have minutes left, I'd regret having you waste the energy and agony of this opportunity." In another moment, before I understand what's going on, weight settles behind me, and my scarf is ripped away.

"Castor, stop!" Andromeda shrieks.

"One wrong look, and you're stone, little lamb. Stay where you are." Castor grips the back of my head and firmly positions my face forward, away from him. "That goes for you as well, Mrs. Role. Fight me at your own risk."

I keep my eyes firmly closed and trace, trace, trace the star on my skirt. "Why are you doing this, Castor? Even if I become fully fae, I won't help you hurt anyone. And, if I am as powerful as you say, I will not rest until I know you can't hurt anyone else."

Castor heaves a sigh. "Woman, calm down."

My teeth grit. "That's, like, the number one thing you don't say to a woman."

"My apologies, then. In case it isn't clear, I'm very bad at people.Still, it pains me to watch you sacrifice your existence to fit into places you were never meant to be. You are not made of plastic smiles. You were not born to make everyone else comfortable at the expense of yourself. You are more than that. I believe you are capable of facing the truth, surviving it, and then thriving in the brilliance of all you will come to create. You are smarter, and wiser, and kinder than that. You are ready. Open your eyes."

Chest burning, I refuse. "I don't trust you."

"I wouldn't ask you to. Open your eyes."

My head thunders. "Tell me what you get out of this. Will you get your hands on my power if I turn fully fae right now?"

"I already have what I need of your power, silly girl."

"What?" I croak.

"I had it before I asked. Don't you think I'd know better than to genuinely petition permission from someone? Face it, you have no idea what I am up to. You cannot hope to outsmart me. Yet, I will offer you the plainness of these statements: I am not going to hurt you. And I am not going to force you. I am merely giving you the option to become what you were born to be and making sure you know where a safe place to look is."

"I do not trust you."

"That is your prerogative. But I cannot lie, and I am feebly attempting to help you."

Everything hurts. "Your ideas of help may not be mine."

"Right again, yet I have respected your wishes of ignorance by not telling you what you are. Do not do me the dishonor of ignoring my sincerity when I am very capable of prying your eyes open or feeding so much stress into your bloodstream the only options you would have left is to adapt or perish."

"If you actually won't force me, and if you actually want to help me, do you know about Zahra?" My chest is tight. Filling inexplicably with too much sand.

"Your assistant? Yes, I know of her."

"What is she?"

Castor sighs. "Zahra is an asteriai."

"An…" My brow furrows. "How do you spell that?"

"I'm not the teacher between us."

I snap, "Well, I'm not the ancient faerie man who knows what the heck an asteriai is."

"It's a star nymph," Andromeda says. "Zahr-Zahr is a star nymph, just like Pila is a tree nymph."

A star nymph. That makes too much sense.

"Kassandra Eve, while I respect the depth of your affection for your friend, these moments are not about her. Focus. If you do not take care of yourself, you will be unable to do anything for anyone else."

The ache in my head grows, blooming. The longer I resist, the worse the pain gets—as though it's begging me to give in. Softly, I say, "You aren't trying to trick me?"

"I am not trying to trick you. I am not tricking you, as trying removes all meaning from the line. Even Pollux in his moment of panic for your suffering asked you to take the leap."

"The…leap?" My heart skips a beat. "Off the island in my dream? Why could you see into my dream?"

Castor's breath coasts across my ear. "Because, I had to let him in so you could bring him here."

"Why do you need Pollux here?"

He chuckles. "What makes you think I need Pollux?"

In the next moment, a crash forces me to instinctively open my eyes.

Magic beats into my skull as the vague outlines of the room, a door off its hinges, and a woman I've only seen in one picture appear. Furious, Pila's eyes are fixed behind me, over my head.

"Daddy!" Andromeda shrieks from where she's standing in a pool of misty world. "Be careful. Castor doesn't have his blindfold on!"

"I know," Pila says, voice wavering as though it's both here, and not.

Everything around me, everything inside me, feels half real.

Castor swears, releasing me. His weight fumbles off the bed as he swears again, louder.

"What happened?" Pollux fights past branches filling the doorway and holds his gaze low. "Meda. Kassandra. Are you both well?"

His voice settles the pain inside. It…ebbs.

Pollux lifts his arm, hand open, shaking. "Can you come toward my voice?"

I stare at him, the openness of his stance, the fear he's expressing when fear is all he has known for so long.

"Please." His voice breaks. "Please tell me you're well."

Standing before me is someone who loves me. For me. Encompassing whatever I am now, and whatever I will become.

Tension pours out of my limbs as clarity streams from him, painting solidity into the world. My repressed fears calm. The subdued moments of my childhood—all the pieces that I locked up—ease gently into the forefront of my mind.

When the world once rejected who I was, now I accept that this is who I am.

Too much for too many.

But the perfect amount for some.

"I'm well," I say.

Warm relief fills him. Then he growls, "Did Castor hurt you or Meda?"

Castor, currently, is crumpled in the corner by the bed in this lavish, dark room. Curled up on himself, he swears, apologizes, and grips his fists in his long hair.

"Um," I offer. "No. I don't think so. Are you…doing something to him, Pollux?"

Filling her chest with air, Pila marches. "He is not," she states when she stops above Castor.

Castor goes quiet, then hisses, "You…"

"I'm well."

"But I…"

Pila hums, cheerily, an instant before the sound of flesh hitting flesh echos in my ears.

I do not dare to look toward them, even though Pollux's eyes widen. Hesitant, he meets Andromeda in the center of the room, scoops her up in his arms, and presses her face to his chest. "Kassandra," he murmurs, locating me. "Come here."

He doesn't need to ask me twice. I slip off the bed and find my way to the safety of his outstretched arm. It curls around me, and he holds both Andromeda and me tight for several breathless seconds. Kissing my forehead, he says, "Let's get out of here."

"But…" Andromeda begins to pull her face away from him.

Pollux doesn't let her lift her head. "I think Pila can handle this."

"How?" Castor's voice shakes. It darkens, "How?"

"As my friends would say, I'm built different." Ire drips from Pila's every word. "And if you mess with my family ever again…"

"Pila," Pollux warns.

"Do not try to spare him. He took my Meda away. He ought to know better than to offend a child in the presence of an expecting mother."

Pollux's lips graze my forehead. Painfully cool and calculated, he says, "Tor."

"Don't Tor me," Castor hisses.

Pollux's silence fills the room, makes the branches pouring through the door shiver. It presses in my lungs, filling them with liquid steel. At last, Pollux breaks the strain and turns. "Pila, I can't get out."

Pila's footsteps stride up to us, and she waves her hand to part the branches filling the doorway.

"That's it?" Castor yells. "Intimidation? And then you cast this entire event aside? I took your soulmate. I stole your daughter. And a few moments of difficulty breathing is all you have to leave me with?"

"I loved you," Pollux says.

My mouth drops open. Dude. I'm standing right here.

"I never told you that," he continues. "You were precious to me. My closest friend, for years. I forgave you over and over. I spoke on your behalf to Cael time and again. You meant so much to me." His voice darkens, lowering until it threatens to make my knees go out. "And…yet…if you ever try something like this again, I will destroy you. Am I clear, old friend?"

After many moments without a response, Pollux grunts, and plows ahead.