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Ollie drops his attention, staring for a long moment. “I’m unfamiliar with that idiom.”
I finish half my grilled cheese and try to keep myself from choking on a laugh. “Sorry. It’s not an idiom. I made a joke reference to a game.”
“A…game that is unethical?”
“Kind of. When you think about it.”
Ollie rubs the back of his neck. “I don’t think many seelie fae would like it, then.”
I’m really all over the place now, but it feels like the excitement in my chest is going to burst if I don’t just keep talking. “Seelie. Unseelie. Willow and Alana have brought those terms up before. What’s the difference?”
“Birthplace.”
“Birthplace?”
“Seelie fae are born from inherently good places aligned with positive emotions or nature. They include benevolent human-borns, like Zy who was turned, and the generations that follow. Unseelie fae stem from inherently bad places. Wicked emotions. Cruel motives. Both seelie and humans can find themselves tainted and turn unseelie if they allow their hearts to want such a thing genuinely.” Ollie’s gaze darkens. “However, that genuine wish may be their last sincere act.”
I pale. “Wait…so…anyone can just become an unseelie fae?”
“It is accepting to plunge from grace, and it is not simple.”
“What about an unseelie becoming seelie?”
“Unseelie who find themselves burdened with conscience may be allowed within Cael’s domain, in accordance with his judgment and the presence of some specific and rather binding oaths.”
“But they don’t become seelie?”
Ollie shakes his head. “Not to my knowledge. It is impossible to whiten black. The best one can do is try to cover it. Adding darkness will always be easier than taking it away.”
My chest tightens. “So…that’s what Pollux is? An unseelie fae that Cael has allowed?”
“Yep. Pollux is a boogeyman born from an unselfish fear. Boogeymen, generally, are flimsy unseelie born to craft children’s fears into nightmares. They vanish once the children wake. A nightmare can’t exist without a boogeyman to facilitate it, but Pollux goes a step further. He’s a fear that was so potent and consistent he evolved into a dream eater, which gives him control over many subconscious things, not just nightmares, and spares him from vanishing in the absence of his original fear. He is increasingly powerful.”
I shudder. “And…Cael’s okay with him? He’s under oaths that make sure he can’t use his powers for evil?”
Ollie, very reassuringly, shrugs. “I have no idea what oaths he’s under. That’s between Cael and him. But, if it puts you at ease, I’m okay with him. Pollux is great. Sure, being in the same room as him is uncomfortable, but I deeply respect him. It is not easy being the black sheep, as the humans say, and he has no place neither here nor there to fit in.”
Put that way, it sounds almost tragic. “So he’s all alone?”
“It is not unlikely.”
“I wonder if Willow’s invited him to movie night.”
“I would not be surprised.” Ollie frowns. “Willoughby visits him regularly, even though it puts Zy on edge. She treats him like a therapist, believing that one day she’ll run out of fear and be entirely unfazed in his presence.”
Blurry almost-memories collect like a sludge in the back of my mind, hardly discernible and impossible to wade through. “Is that possible?”
“Hard to say. Sometimes overcoming a fear doesn’t mean getting rid of it so much as it means not letting it stop you.” With a sigh, Ollie murmurs, “That’s where I am right now. If you don’t change your mind by the full moon, I will have to face the fear I’m ruining your life by making you mine. I won’t let it stop me out of respect for your decisions, but I will nevertheless remain terrified that I am doomed to watch any love you say you have for me turn into resentment as the years come. I feel odd at the moment. I am, quite frankly, in shock that you have said you love me.”
We are responding to the same situation in such marvelously different ways. I’m going to explode, and he’s going to shut down. Smiling, I say, “That’s just it, Ollie. This is my decision. Whatever happens afterward isn’t your fault. And I would hope I’d recognize that well enough to not hurt you on the days when I miss Alana or my parents and the way things were when I was human.”
“Protecting you, loving you, looking out for you, putting your needs before mine, all of that is what it means to have a mate.” He extends his hand, leaving it open, and I set my palm against his, letting his fingers close around mine. He continues, “You are a gift. My responsibility to care for what I have been blessed with is not something I take lightly. Okay?”
Standing from the table, I step up to him and use my free hand to push back his hair. I kiss his forehead. “If that’s what having a mate means, I think you might be overlooking something important.”
“What’s that?” he says softly.
I meet his eyes. “You’re my mate, too.”
