Page 122 of Falling in Love with A Tiny Bat

Alexios’s expression crumples with disgust. “That’s a HIPPA violation.”

“Faeries don’t have HIPPA.”

“How would you know?”

“Because when I visited Pollux, I said, ‘I know it’s a HIPPA violation to ask for someone’s medical records, but assuming Xios is my married spouse and I have health care decision making authority…I should be allowed to access your chart of my husband’s food restrictions.’”

Alexios deflates. Like a sad balloon. “And he looked at you like he had no idea what you were talking about?”

I kiss my little boy’s curly head. “And his face scrunched upbefore he said, in the most oblivious grumpy man tone ever, ‘What do hippos have to do with Xios’s food spreadsheet? I thought you’d be by a lot sooner.’” It was adorable, honestly. Kassandra has an excellent soulmate. Beaming, I say, “In other news, I noticed hippos weren’t on yournolist already, so I made some. Along with alligator and snake. Do you think maybe you haven’t branched out into enough meats?”

Poor, poor Alexios bestows a pitiful look of sheer turmoil upon me. “You might be a sick, sick woman, Zahra.”

“Gratitude. I know.”

After all, here I am, on a perfectlygrandTuesday, worried sick. Since agreeing to the deal with Castor yesterday, I’ve torn pages out of Ollie’s book in an effort to maintain my sanity.

Stress cooking.

It has a kick to it.

I think the worst part about the agreement yesterday—beyond having made it at all and trusting Castor around any of my emotions—is that the payoff will take weeks. Anything could happen in a singular seven-day period, never mind multiple.

Why couldn’t magic have been effortless finger snaps?

Why does it have to be at all a realistic, difficult, or delicate process to tamper with the unseen elements of nature?

How dreadfully upsetting.

“The sooner you start, the sooner you’ll finish,” I say to Alexios, because for some reason bullying him makes me feel better.

A mix of horror and dread gleams in his eyes, which he fixes on me, despondent-like. “I… You intend for me tofinishall of this?”

“Absolutely.” Not even remotely. I am literally distracting myself from my worries by tormenting my soulmate.

God isnotproud of me. Not at all. He’s probably shaking His head at His petulant daughter, who happens to be using herhusband’s disabilities to tease him. God is saying,How dare you do this, My child. I told you to be the salt of the earth, not the scum of it.

And to that I say,Sir, Your child struggleth. Allow her meager delusions today.

In a miraculous turn of brain damage, I bat my lashes. “We can playfully banter-flirt with every bite.”

“Heinous nixie,” Alexios murmurs. “Mayhaps the spirit of your origin was misguided. Hath ye, as a true descendant of the stars, brought me to a precipice, overlooking an ocean of distress, and intendest that I drown?”

“Okay, why is the playful banter leaning into Shakespeare’s era? I’m not mentally in the zone to respond with Early Modern English.”

“Pox,” he snips, pouting cutely.

“My, Xios, your jutted lower lip looks almost kissable.” I scoot a plate with an assortment of nuts his chart says he hasn’t tried before his way. “Start chewing.”

He selects a macadamia, with such marvelous disdain. “I would so rather sample you, my love.”

My heart hits my ribs. “Whoa, slow down. You just went from zero to eighty in negative point two seconds.”

“As I suffer, so shall you. Find yourself bombarded with my affection this day.” He inspects the nut, finally trying it. He chews for a long while, per usual, then he arches a brow. “That was…not terrible.”

“Really?”

“Truly.”

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