Page 76 of Bianca and the Monsters

Bianca

Before we reach the gorgeous, multicolored, stained-glass doors, something in my peripheral vision causes me to pause and glance over the far side of the balcony. The sight takes my breath away, an ocean, massive and seemingly unending. I wonder where it leads, what lives beyond the water, and whether someone over there knows how to help me if the queen won’t.

A sound draws my focus back to the doors and our mission. Through the narrow opening of one slightly ajar door comes the unmistakable proof that inside this tower room, a woman weeps. But wait. A woman? A female monster? I didn’t actually ask what the queen was. If all the monster women were sent away, why did this monster woman remain? Or is she something else altogether?

Bastien’s worries flutter inside both of us, but he remains beside me, his hand in mine, awaiting my decision about what we do next. But for me, there is no decision to be made, or rather, I already made it.

I push the door open and step inside. “Your Highness, we mean you no harm,” I say softly but without hesitation.

Her sobbing ceases instantly and her body stills where she sits on a brocade chair, hunched over, her back toward us.

The room is just as colorfully ornate as the doors, and yet, a shadow seems to have taken residence and refused to leave. Thick drapes cover most of the windows, fabric screens segment the space, and though opulent, nothing looks tended.

“Thewomanwho recently arrived in this realm already thinks she can change it—changeus.” Her voice is laced with scorn, defined by its suffering, and yet she’s clearly not surprised to find me here. “I can’t give you what you want, so why don’t you go back down the side of my castle the way you came? Perhaps I should call my knights and expedite your fall, without your safe landing place this time.”

She hasn’t moved, not an inch, and in the infinite gloominess, I can’t make out any defining features. All I see is the back of her gold satin robe. But then, very slowly, she stands, still facing away from us, and I realize what her hunched posture concealed. Two large, spiral horns, one on each side of her head.

I can’t help but shudder at the sight and at the memory of a fairy tale villain, but then I feel completely stupid for reacting that way. I love monsters with horns, tusks, feathers, fur, and burning coals. What’s a couple more horns in my life?

The queen turns toward me and I’m suddenly trapped in her tortured gaze, a black hole of grief that stares me down and dares me to challenge its right to rule us all. The satin robe covers her lean body, revealing only the skin on her face and hands, both weathered by age and cruelty. Other than her imposing, dark horns, she looks fairly human, though much older than any normal human would live.

“Your hair is a mess, and your tiara’s askew,” she mutters dismissively. Her own white hair is pulled back and severely bound in a bun that sits between her horns.

I brush my hand over my unruly mop. “If you’d let me in through the front door, I could have stayed allfancyfor you. Should I curtsy? I’m new to this whole royalty thing.”

She scoffs. “Curtsying after invading my tower seems inconsistent.”

“I’m really sorry about that, but please, let me tell you why I need Nico back.Please.”

Her jaw clenches and her nostrils flare, but she inclines her horned head just a bit.

I feel Nico close as I gush, “He’s wonderful. He came through the portal, risking everything, to give me the chance to come here and meet my true family. And even knowing what would happen, he crossed the portal again and saved my father’s life, bringing him here to share in my adventures.”

My throat tightens as my emotions break free. “Nico is noble and good. He’s a hero. He doesn’t deserve to be tortured for loving me enough to sacrifice himself to protect my heart. Please, I need him back. My family needs him back. If you care about the suffering of women, and creating a world where women aren’t harmed, then help me. I’ll never be okay as long as he’s gone.”

Her blue-grey eyes squint, their hostility almost singeing, but that might just be her default setting. “He sacrificed for your happiness and you would have me steal his honor from him?”

Oh dear, my stink eye is spooling up. “Uh,yeah, because sacrifice shouldn’t be forever. He shouldn’t have to payforeverfor doing something selfless and decent.”

“Why? Why shouldn’t he suffer?” She waves her hand at me. “You’ve only just arrived. You have no idea how cruel these monsters have been in their pasts, how only my presence here has arrested their darkest impulses. That task and that task alone is why I endure this abomination of an existence, oneInever had the freedom to choose.”

The queen sniffs at me, her resting bitch face seriously impressive. “You are young and I believe yourfeelingsfor your monsters—however incomprehensible to me—are genuine. I can tell the difference.”

Her disgust flits toward Bastien at my side. “You’ve claimed a Taran and are now trapped in this land. For that, I pity you, because having options is a far better thing than no options at all.”

She glances in the direction of the balcony and the sea beyond it. “There are wars on the horizon—always—and you won’t be able to escape them. Your monsters can be conscripted to fight, along with your future children. So many never return. You and your Taran will descend into unmitigated grief, because that’s the only end that awaits us all. The sooner you understand that, the better.”

The queen shakes her head, her pity for me turning my stomach. “Love is the answer that so many seek without ever asking the right question.”

“What question?” I whisper.

She stares above my head at something behind me. “A perfect life isn’t one with soaring peaks and deep valleys. It’s a steady progression on a level field. To aim for the peaks is to live the fall.” Her voice becomes more guttural and bereft of any warmth. “Love is nothing but a cruel drug infecting our veins with the dreams of those heights, while a chain slithers around our ankles to ensure that any elevation we reach is fleeting with an excruciatingly abrupt end.”

“I think you’re wrong,” I blurt, but my confidence wavers. The impenetrable wall in her eyes seems to be closing on my hope like it’s just garbage in a compactor. Fear flickers to life inside me. Failure to win Nico back. Loss. Unendurable, never-ending grief.

“That’srichcoming from you,” Bastien declares with surprising force, directing his words at the queen.

Her shock is potent, as though her dog suddenly spouted poetry after licking its butt for an hour. “Excuse me,Taran.”

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