Page 10 of Reflections of Peonies
Mu was an optimist. He always encouraged me to see the best in others, had an uncanny intuition, and maintained an unshakable faith that everything would work out. He was confident in his knowledge and certain in his actions. And no matter what happened—even though it always annoyed the rest of us—he’d had the utmost faith in humanity.
But Bianca… She was different.
There was a darkness in her thinking that had never existed before. She, the one who befriended the masses, was afraid of people. And she, who thrived on affection, was terrified of intimacy.
And now I knew why.
I… What was I supposed to do? How could I make this better?
I needed her.
She… she deserved more than we could give.
My ears buzzed as I fell back, and my gaze lingered on my bloodied fists. Dimly, I was aware that Brayden had helped Bryce up, but I could barely stand to look at him.
Julian moved to help Bryce as his medical training took over, but Bryce held out his hand to stop him.
“No,” Bryce said, and my anger was not appeased even though he was wheezing. “Forget about it.”
“Bryce—” Julian stood as he did, but the fae stepped back, rejecting further help, while Brayden came to his side. The necromancer stayed in silence as the two fae left the room.
“Julian?” Miles looked between us, and the devastation was clear on his face. “What do we do now?”
Julian looked back at me, and I could see the unspoken question in his gaze. My chest was still heaving as I struggled to catch my breath, but I finally noticed the aftermath of the destroyed room and the broken window.
Titus was missing—he must have escaped while I was distracted. I only needed one more moment, just a second longer, to gather my control.
3
Bianca POV
I hadno idea how many days I’d been here, but it felt like forever.
Dr. Reed visited frequently. So did Julian. But it also felt like he hadn’t come in a while.
I still wasn’t sure what was expected of me, but as time passed, Dr. Reed seemed happier. My neck and shoulder were healing quickly, but it was the bruises on my arm that’d cleared the most.
But just like before, I was treated differently than other patients. Nobody interacted with me except to do the most basic aspects of their job. The aids brought food, and sometimes a change of clothes. The nurses brought my medication.
I took it. Because if I didn’t, I knew they could force me to. That much had been made perfectly clear.
The hours lagged, and I was staring, once more, at a bare wallwhen a knock sounded through the room. My attention snapped up in time to see Julian closing the door.
His eyes briefly met mine before he glanced at the untouched tray at the foot of my bed.
“Darling,” he said, frowning. “Why didn’t you eat again?”
“I can’t,” I told him.
Tasteless prison food held no appeal, and I didn’t trust anyone not to try to kill me. Death by food would be a poetic way to die. It was becoming apparent I would have to take poisoning lessons from Bryce.
If I would be allowed to leave.
Darn it, I was even starting to misshim. Glaring at Bryce had been such a fulfilling pastime. And things would be better between us now. He had submitted. I could order him around to my heart’s content. It would be great.
I was losing my mind.
The bed dipped under Julian’s weight as he sat. He paused, slightly hesitant and watchful, before finally putting his arm over my shoulders and pulling me to him.
