I do, however, find the strength to lift my arms and wrap them around the self-righteous moth prince, who—probably, like Pollux said—has just been doing hisbest.
Chapter 39
~~~~~~~~~~~~
The future is nigh.
“What would you say if I suggested we pay your mother a visit?” Castor asks, as though he’s not been deliriously tired today and throwing his dagger at things.
The heavy sound of the blade now hitting the same wooden spot on the wall in this parlor yet again draws my attention up off my book, to my soulmate, who has just asked me if I want topay my mother a visit. “I never want to see that woman again in my life,” I say. “I have actually quite enjoyed the times when I’ve been able to forget she exists completely.”
“You wouldn’t even want to cut the skin off her bones and…” His words peter out in response to the way my emotions rile against the notion. “Sorry,” he mutters, stands, retrieves his knife, sits, and sends it flying again.
“Is progress on the cure not going well?” I ask, as softly as possible.
His lips turn down. “Get my knife.”
Leaving my magic theory book on the couch, I cross the room and pluck his knife from the wall, skating my fingers over the dozens of pricks now marring the wood. “Are you going to communicate?” I ask. “Or am I going to be left guessing? Just so you know, I’ve outgrown the desire to walk on eggshells around people, so if you aren’t ready to talk, I respect that, but I will ask that you respect me by not acting in such a way that leaves me feeling disconnected from you.”
His emotions ruffle, perishing the very thought of disconnect between us.
Assuming that means he’s willing to talk, I say, “You left the key to my cage on my pillow last night. I felt you put it there. Why?”
“Because I needed to step out and did not want to strand you if I was to be gone long.”
I turn to face him. “When you returned, you smelled like Cael’s palace.”
His back goes rod straight. “Since when do you identify things by their scents?”
I lift a shoulder. “You do. I tried and learned I could, too.”
Ripples of terse pride meet me along our bond.
“Why were you there?” I ask, toying my finger along the edge of his blade.
“To apologize.” His arms cross, and he sulks.
“Am I going to have to pry every three words from you?”
He huffs. “No.” His arms loosen and drop to his sides. “I’m…tired. Yesterday was hard to get through. I made it hard on myself. Some days, I wish I’d had a sweeter origin. A kinder one. Agoodone. Some days, I wish I were seelie. It would make things so much easier.”
“Maybe.” I meet him and offer him his knife. “But you wouldn’t beyouanymore.”
“Oh my heart and soul, beingmeis exactly the problem I’d like to avoid.” He takes the knife and traces the designs on the hilt.
“But I like you.”
“That’s cute, if naive. You do not know the me of ages past. I was a different sort of creature then, and that monster lingers in big and small ways. There is much of me I must deal with that I pray you never will.”
“Without the you of the past, you’d not be the you of the present, and I like the you of the present, so even if I wouldn’t have liked the you of the past, I appreciate the strides you’vetaken to get from there to here, and I believe that effort is commendable enough to deserve recognition and grace.”
He settles, and even his emotions fall quiet. At last, he murmurs, “Sometimes I forget that you are a dancing flame, a brilliance unlike anything I’ve been blessed to witness before. Your light casts into my darkness, warming the freezing pieces of my heart. Tell me, my darling, do you believe in me?”
What a positively vague question.
Smiling, I kiss his forehead. “Yes.”
“Would you look into my eyes and risk becoming stone?”
