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Chapter 27
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The most unlikely of chaperones.
“I really appreciate this,” I ramble as I walk beside Willow through town. “I don’t know if it’s a good idea to not tell Ollie I’m visiting my sister, and I don’t know if I’ll even be able to hide it despite the fact you’re being kind enough to let me use your shower when we get back. I mean, who am I to know when I’ve scrubbed off someone’s scent, right? Well. At least I don’t know yet. In another four days I will.” A shiver plunges down my spine. “I’m getting married in four days. Basically three because of the plans today, and that’s basically two because the third day is the actual day—” I’m hyperventilating. I’m on fire. I’m a meteor, blazing on my collision-path with earth. No oxygen. Only flames. “What’s it like getting fae married? Can I ask how it was with you and Zy? Is it scary? Oh, heavens. I’m still basically a teenager. How am I going to be a wife?”
Willow sips her iced chai for a long moment, then says, “For us, it kind of just accidentally happened in the kitchen one day. Took about four to seven months before husband and wife stuff also kind of just happened, too.”
I blink. “Huh?”
“We didn’t participate in absence-of-clothes activities until like seven to nine months after we were married.”
I flush, deeply crimson, a different sort of on fire to add to my meteor analogy. “I don’t…understand.”
“Getting married for the fae is an oath. You speak a vow to one another that binds you in commitment and love. Neither of those things means bedroom Twister. If you’ve already decided to do this, all you’re stressing over is saying the words.” She takes another long sip. “Oh. And also maybe learning how to deal with the ability to turn into a dog. I’m sure that will come with a lot of sensory stuff. Zy’s told me some of what he remembers after his change, and, in short, loud.” Another sip. “Did you already quit your job?”
“I have two more days…” And, likely, about seventy emails after that if the after-work text messages I’ve been getting are any indication. It’s nice to feel like what I’ve been doing with my life mattered, but I hope I’ll find something I enjoy more that provides a better sense of fulfillment in Faerie.
You know. Without my feeling like I need to sacrifice so much energy I never promised to anyone.
Right now, Ollie and I have been so busy organizing what we want our home to look like, how long it will take before we can move in, and how much money we have in savings that we’ve neither been able to check out land in any mystical woods nor peruse the infamous job board.
The good news is there’s no hard deadline. Ollie’s income from his music could keep us comfortable where we’re living right now for a good long time if it needed to. If we want it to.
Put plainly, the man is loaded, and he hasn’t even sold his songs.
The great algorithm gods seriously smile upon his pretty spackled face when it comes to ad revenue.
Even if Ollie says I don’t need to worry about being useful, it still would be nice to know whether or not I have the skills needed to complete any of the available job board tasks. I don’t want to freeload in the magical realm. That wouldn’t be very protagonist of…
I come out of the daze to find Willow turning onto the cracked sidewalk of a dilapidated manor that feels only vaguely familiar, dreamlike. Or…nightmarelike. Is this where the trod leading toward South Carolina is located? “Where are we?” I ask.
“Oh. Right. You weren’t claimed last time we came.” She references the haunted house, the broken windows, the faded paint, the overgrown yard. “This is where Pollux lives.”
I straighten. “I’ve met Pollux?”
“Yep. ” She mutters, “Ollie didn’t appreciate it.”
“Why? He told me he respects Pollux just over a week ago.”
“Being around Pollux is unpleasant, and our mates don’t like the concept of us facing anything remotely distressing.” Her eyes roll as she knocks on the door. “Overprotective louses…” Waiting a moment, she knocks again and scowls. “Is he really not home? I’m used to more theatrics when I approach this place. Where’s my on-brand drama?”
A disembodied giggle rises from beyond the closed door.
My stomach drops. “Why are we here? I thought you were going to help me find the right faerie paths so I could see my sister one last time?”
“I need a trod map that outlines which paths don’t take us through lamenting swamps or briars of no return or whatever else lies in the grand beyond. The seelie aren’t the only ones who influence the terrains of Faerie, and I’d prefer not to navigate unseelie domains without a nanny. Pollux is the kind of person to have a map around those parts so we can tra la la off to your sister on our own.” She clears her throat, steps up on her platform tiptoes, and tries to peer through the murky glass window in the front door. “He’s also, you know, the kind of person who won’t tattle on us for traveling so far unsupervised.”
“Is he now?” The grumble sounding from behind nearly sends me crashing to my knees.
I whip around and find…Pollux.
I remember.
The red eyes.
The dark hair.
