“Castor, don’t kick my husband,” Zahra says, lulling Ash back to silence.
That makes Castor huff. “I’m being bullied.”
Pollux links a hand around Castor’s head and pulls his face against a broad shoulder, second only to—sigh—Billy’s. “It’s a sign of affection, and you’ll probably get used to it.”
“Gah,” Willow declares, startling Ollie and Brittny awake in their fuzzy little cuddle pile. “Affection. Gross.” She grabs the remote and turns on the TV. “Everyone shut up now before this gets way too mushy. It’s movie time.”
As the found family finds itself settling in to watch a movie about finding family, I find my mind drifting from name to name, yet settling nowhere at all.
?
Hand in hand, Castor and I wander the long way home, through the woods dappled in vibrant hues of purple and red and the most unassuming little bell clusters of white. Since Frelsi went on ahead, it’s just us. Here. In the quiet. In the dark.
“Still struggling to find a name that feels right, my feather?” Castor asks.
I sigh. “Picking a name is stupid. I wish the universe would just give me one.”
“It has. It’s just a matter of finding it now.”
“Well, then I wish it hadn’t put it under a rock.” I poke a single white bud as I pass. “Maybe I should try meditating again. Like Cael suggested. Listen to my soul and what not.” A brilliant idea consumes me, and I turn to mysoul’s mate.
“Oh dear,” he murmurs.
“What? What’s that?Oh dear? Why would you say such a thing to me?”
He lifts his shoulder and turns his face from me, as though he can hide his smile now—he’s not stopped smiling since we left Willow’s. “I just have a feeling you’re about to suggest something impossible.”
How rude. “You’re mysoulmate, which means you’re part of my soul, and you don’t use your eyes, which means your hearing should be better than mine. What, fair lover, does our soul tell you my name is?”
His smiles stretches, ever more. “Alas, my darling, my sweet, my angel and heart…the sound of my tainted soul calling yours mine overpowers all else.”
Melting into his arms, I relax, despondent. “If onlyyourswere a name that others might share, I’d claim it now and take flight.”
“My poor feather,” he murmurs into my hair. “Such misery could be avoided, if you commit your life to me alone. Then your name can beMinefor all eternity, never uttered by another as long as you live, content, within the safe bars of my ribs.”
His caged bird.
How romantic.
And concerning.
But, whatever.
I’m well past the point of caring, and I find myself once again baffled that I’m not unseelie. Being a monster with him instead of a bird made of light seems far more fitting for the life I’ve led. I’ve grown up grounded, wings clipped, in the shadows, treated harshly even as I was treated with utmost care. My body was left preserved and perfect, while my mind and innards found themselves mutilated.
Resting my chin on Castor’s shoulder, I stare at the spackling of white dancing through the forest.
Such a pretty flower.
Pure and lost in this land of char and monsters.
“Castor?”
“My love?”
“What are the little white flowers that grow here called? Are they the same ones you keep in your garden?”
“Yes, though here they can only spring up a few at a time. In my garden and in the human world, the bunches they grow in are far more dense. They’re heathers.”
