Page 8 of Bianca and the Monsters

I hear Archie mutter, “It can’t hurt.”

Together, we walk toward the front door, through the large courtyard, all surrounded by fortress walls. Pennie has already lowered the drawbridge and we all move over the moat and toward the thick woods. It’s only a ten-minute walk to the gateway between realms. Every large property has one, an impossible temptation for our lonely society of bachelors.

Long ago, each species had its share of females, but after the queen’s great loss, the females were sent away to lands that appreciated them better than we ever did. Even given the option to return by our fickle queen, not one did. They thrived in their new lands, and here, we can only find love if we convince outlanders of our worth. Only then do we have the right to age-old titles and property, for those like Archie who come from royalty, or for Pennie, the right to reach his highest evolutionary state, or for me, the right to finally feel whole. And for Taran, Bianca could bestow the best gift. She could claim him and no one, not even the queen, would have the right to take him from her.

But claiming a Taran is forever. If she abandoned him after, he would wither and die, with none of us able to sustain him.

I see the burden in this path for all of us, especially Bianca. It’s a heavy thing to be foisting on the person our hearts beat for, but my dreams give me the surety that this is the journey we must take.

I stare at the shimmering veil, but then turn back to my family. “I’ll see you all soon… sooner on the television. Wish me luck.”

They crowd in and hug me and then I step away and vanish from my home into the world of women, song, and all the best flavors of ice cream.

Chapter7

Taran

“Hurry,” I call, racing into the TV room, with Archie and Pennie quick on my heels.

Wings… I really wish I had wings. For all these shimmering feathers covering me, it’s truly a pity I don’t have wings too. Flight would be handy, making me more difficult to catch—but no, completelyflightless. Tarans get flightlessness to go with our designation as property, proving just how unfair and not-Taran-centric this realm is.

It rankles me more in this moment than it usually does because Nico is in danger, when I would gladly risk everything to be the one who crosses the border. It doesn’t help that I’m the reason my family is willing to risk so much. Without me to protect, they might live quite happily without risking anything more than the usual dangers of existing in a land forever punished by one woman’s grief.

But that’s not actually true—quite happilyisn’t an option for any of us. Life wouldn’t be a punishment ifhappily ever afterswere easily achieved. Denied the kind of love we seek, we actually allowed our hearts to wither, our dreams to diminish, our expectations for life to dive into the deepest part of the moat and not resurface. At least, mine did.

Tarans didn’t live well before our land entered its mandatory mourning period. Now, things are even worse for us, though there really isn’t anusanymore. We were never allowed to be together and now there are likely too few to ever find each other. I’m not even sure what to feel about our imminent extinction. Perhaps, it’s for the best.

At least that’s what I thoughtBB—Before Bianca. Seeing her for the first time changed everything for us, but especially for me. Because Tarans were never allowed to remain with our families or congregate, we have been kept ignorant about our own bodies. What I’ve learned, I learned from Pennie who traveled widely before the time of grief began. He explained to me about Taran nature, things I never knew. But seeing Bianca for the first time taught me more about my biology than Pennie ever could, because the lessons she taught occurred inside me.

I already knew of my origin feather before seeing her, but I had no idea that it would pulse at the sight of the woman I would give anything to be claimed by, owned by—in that second, I knew the subjugation of Tarans wasn’t what was meant for us. Our biology didn’t betray us. I didn’t need to hate myself anymore. I could hate the ones who took from us what was beautiful and pure and exploited it and us, denying us the lives we were meant to live and the pleasure we were meant to give.

My feathers quiver as my nerves flare, excitement, worry, and hope colliding inside me. Pennie tugs me with him toward the loveseat in front of the television. Bianca’s delightfully drunken snoring continues, as she rubs her face against her furry rug as though it’s a pet. Maybe she will enjoy cuddling against Nico as much as I do.

“There he is,” Archie murmurs, his lavender hue darkening with his spiking concern.

He’s there—Nico is actually there, standing in the foyer of Bianca’s home. He’s smiling, his fangs shining and his tail can’t seem to remain still.

“What if…” I blurt.

“Faith, Taran,” Pennie says gently, pulling me closer to his always warm body.

“I just can’t believe this,” I whisper. “I can’t believe this moment is finally here.”

“Believe it,” Archie says, as he sits much too abruptly onto a chair that groans back at him.

To us, Nico gives a furry thumbs up and then gets to work, first gently lifting Bianca and carrying her to her bed, tucking her under the covers. He stands over her for several minutes. She won’t wake… his fragrance of total contentment is a powerful thing that I’ve gladly succumbed to many, many times.

With some regret, Nico releases a breath and turns away from where Bianca sleeps, moving quickly and efficiently through her house, doing a much better job of everything she was attempting to accomplish. He unpacks and repacks all her boxes, labeling them with his exquisite handwriting. Excellent penmanship is required of his kind; the males are judged fiercely for it, and he always won great acclaim. Then he cleans her house, spending most of his time in her kitchen, which makes sense given her tendency to use every plate, pan, and utensil before instituting any cleaning protocols—Archie would do the same thing if we let him get away with it.

“Let’s help him.” Pennie reaches for his new cell phone that only dials into Bianca’s realm. “Ideas?”

Archie squints. “Flowers—no, our flowers are much better than theirs.”

“Jewelry,” Pennie says, practically purring over the word, probably imagining Bianca wearing nothing but the jewels he would provide for her.

“Your jewels are so much better than theirs.” I consider everything I know about Bianca. “Cinnamon rolls. No doubt.”

Even without Nico here to fill our home with the scent of hope, I feel it. Hope’s such a strange thing, from none when I first crawled onto Clumberton land, to enough to believe I could belong somewhere, to now when everything I want feels within reach. Hope is a funny, unruly thing, and right now, I kind of love it.

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