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“Well. Ow.”
Ignoring the prince, Ollie swears. “You might think twice about wanting anything to do with me once you meet my brothers. And that’s perfectly reasonable.”
“No, it’s not,” Cael cuts in.
“Relationships involve the family,” Ollie snaps.
Cael twists in his seat, half singing, “Not when the family should be cut off.”
Ollie’s eye twitches.
Cael lifts a hand. “Snip, snip.”
Ollie drops his forehead against the armrest of my chair and releases the boss of all sighs. “It’s complicated. Even…even if my family isn’t the best, it’s not like…” He whispers a broken swear. “It’s not like I just stop loving them. I wish things were different. I wish I didn’t care about them as much as I still…I still do.”
My heart shatters a bit, and I look up at Cael, who is no longer smiling.
Watching a large green moth slowly flex its wings, he says, “Wolves often are renowned for their roles of deceit and aggression. Dogs, however…they’re known for unconditional love. Even though wolves aren’t nearly as malicious as the stories say, the skin one chooses to wear is telling.”
“What about foxes?” I ask.
“Friendly, curious, playful, faithful…there are many great things about foxes, so long as you don’t look to their stereotypes. Why? Are you already considering your options for when you’ve come fully into yourself, little one?”
If I possess the ability in the future to turn into any canine form, this faerie man best believe I’m choosing all of them. I shall be a Pomeranian on Wednesdays and exist in fluffy bliss, chilling my fur in front of the AC in summer, cozying up in a blanket nest during winter.
Um. Yes. I’m very excited to be tiny, cute, and soft.
Not to mention the joy of curling up as a little fox with my little fox boyfriend. Or. Well. I suppose, at that point, my little fox husband…
I don’t know.
It sounds like happiness.
Foxes don’t have jobs they hate.
They just have boopable snoots and tiny pawsies.
I chew my lip as the idea of climbing into a giant rose consumes my thoughts. Just…peace. Peace and fluffy cuddles in a soft petal bed.
It’s astonishing how ready I am to give up on society and…run into the woods until I find my pack. Welp. How strange. For how often I’ve thought that exact thing, I guess this really has always been in my blood.
Coming out of the daze, I realize I’ve been very silent for a while. Cael is playing with his moths and doesn’t look upset at all. Even though I think I’ve been ignoring him for…however long I’ve vanished from consciousness for. “I’m so sorry,” I stammer. “What did you ask me? I got lost in my head.”
“Are you already considering your shifting options?” he repeats, holding about seven moths on one hand.
The sight makes me shudder. “I want to be everything.”
“How exciting.”
“What about you?” I ask. “What are you?”
It registers about zero point two seconds too late that that is probably not an acceptable question to ask someone. It sounds distinctly similar to inquiring about someone’s ethnicity only to be met with a snapped I’m American when that wasn’t at all what I meant, and I wasn’t even trying to insinuate that wasn’t the case, but I guess it is totally inappropriate, and I might just be a horrible person. Before I can so much as fumble an apology, however, he says, “I have come to be known as an adelidae, otherwise a moth faerie.”
I glance at the pinned plumes laying against his hair, then at the surrounding bugs. “Oh. Yeah. That makes a ton of sense.” I think Ollie even mentioned it once before. I must have forgotten. “Can you turn into any moth you want?”
“For the moment, I’ve tucked away my bulky wings, but those of the Hercules moth match my hair well, so I favor it.”
“Is that…a no?”
