Page 14 of Bianca and the Monsters

Chapter11

Pendragon

Smug. Smugger. The absolute smuggest. That’s me while watching the events in Lady Bianca’s house. Of course, she didn’t panic. Of course, she was kind. Of course, she was ready. I knew she was ready. But I also realize how important it was to wait until she committed to the life of her dreams. Leaving that festering employment was the equivalent of diving off a cliff and trusting that a cloud would catch her.

A cloud… or a giant, furry, sweet monster of many syllables.

I see now that sending the enormous living and fragrant stuffed animal to her was entirely right. I have many fine traits, but not one hair on my entire body. But I can turn any pool into a hot tub in a second, so I’m certainly skilled in ways I hope will delight Lady Bianca.

With Taran barely breathing, especially when he was mentioned, and Archie fumbling with his knitting in a failed effort to control his emotions, I feel serene. Perfectly right and infinitely at peace with everything that comes next. We watched the television for so long, searching for the person who felt like our missing piece. The one person who could unite us as a family, who would appreciate the safety, nurturing, love, and desire we are meant to share, while also granting us the gift of permanence in the life we’ve built.

From the first time I saw her, I knew that Lady Bianca belonged with us. Waiting for her to finally be ready has been the most torturous foreplay I could ever imagine. But even though I know she belongs with us, I take no liberties even in my thoughts that her place with us is certain. We must earn her trust and also bestow our trust that she will find a way forward and not return to the patterns that have kept her captive for so many years.

My reveries are arrested by Archie leaping to his feet, his knitting sailing across the room and his booming voice reverberating through the castle, “Heavens to Betsy! They’re on their way!!! I didn’t think… we aren’t ready! How can we not be ready?!”

Taran’s feathers quiver with excitement and his face has never looked so beautiful, blessed as it is with a shimmering, hopeful smile. “She’s coming.”

I lean and kiss his head. “Yes, she is.Theyare coming home.”

We both look at Archie whose panic remains at full strength.

To Taran, I murmur, “Help him. I’ll go meet them and bring them slowly home.”

Taran nods and kisses my cheek, before standing and moving to Archie. “Archie, we’ve got this, but you need to change. Let’s go—I’ll help.”

“But… but… nothing is good enough for her.” Archie glances around this miraculous room in his stunningly perfect castle like we’re in a barely furnished shack with holes for windows.

“This place is gorgeous,” I say, while standing. “Why don’t you both wait at the drawbridge? That will present a compelling image.”

Taran, now bouncing on his heels, grins. “That’s perfect.” To Archie, he says, “You really don’t want to meet her wearing a cravat that clashes with your lovely hue, right?”

Archie’s eyes widen with abject horror. “No, I can’t clash. That would be awful. Help me, Taran—I might be experiencing a tizzy.”

Taran soothes his hand over Archie’s and leads the lord of the castle away with murmured words of support. I understand their excitement and even their terror, but I don’t feel it. In a powerful way, I feel like we’re all coming home at last.

I’m also already prepared to welcome her, because I knew she was ready. My teal, satin cravat is flawless. My satin paisley print vest with a form-fitting undershirt—sharp. My pants are fitted perfectly to reveal my sinuous form. I’m as tall as Archie and Nico, but where their mass extends horizontally, I’m more compact, though not less strong. And neither of them can do that hot tub thing, so there’s that.

It’s not a contest, but everyone loves to be admired for the unique gifts they bring.

My only concern, the one I’m grateful Archie and Taran are currently overlooking, is whether Nico successfully re-enters our realm. It’s not the things we plan for that carry the most risk. It is all that fate controls, a capricious force never to be trusted. Everyone in our realm knows that. The queen’s daughter died and our entire realm descended into darkness, loss, grief, and uncertainty. Our fates are entirely dependent on the will of our inconsolable and volatile queen.

We don’t hate her for her actions. We don’t even judge her for wrecking our lives in response to losing what she loved most. We don’t even consider the injustice done to those who played no role in her daughter’s death. Because, though we weren’t part of her daughter’s sad end, the culture that took her daughter’s life was rampant and infested us all.

Paying such a steep price has fueled change in our realm, an appreciation for love above all else. If we were to harm Lady Bianca, the queen would descend on us with a fury and not even the stone castle would remain. She’s protective of all things female and now, so are we all. The result is right—no right-minded creature would disagree—regardless of the methods employed to achieve it.

As I approach the portal, the worst of thosemethodsis foremost in my mind. No males—of any species—may enter who didn’t originate in our realm, at least not without a terrible consequence to the one who brought them. The number of males in our society is fixed. If a new male enters, even if it is a worm or a bird that crosses when the gateway is open, Nico’s life will be forfeit, his soul sent to one of the many purgatory realms. Not one creature has ever earned passage back or even out of that realm. Endless torment for all eternity—the idea of sweet Nico in that place causes a shudder to work its way through me.

It should have been I who bore this risk. I came from a place that could give purgatory some worthy competition. I know how to survive, how to endure a life without hope. To outlast every tormentor on sheer will. I pray that if fate ever desires a victim, that it is I and not our Nico.

Our Lady Bianca would be worth enduring an eternity of agony, especially if she finds her home with my family. No torture could ever be absolute while knowing that my family is safe, together, and permanently situated.

I reach the portal just as they emerge, but I can barely focus on them. My eyes are locked on the butterfly that entered with them.

Nico sees it too. His eyes widen and yet his resolve only strengthens as he braces for the end.

A male butterfly?

A female butterfly?

---