Page 118 of Reflections of Peonies
“—and we realized that in all the confusion, neither of us had thought to go over the basics.”
Oh. So he planned to lecture me? “The basics of what?”
Brayden sat on the bench beside me. “We completely forgot to tell you about our family. You didn’t even know about our mother.”
The last of my annoyance faded away, and my hands twisted in my skirt. It was a wonder I wasn’t shaking.
“But, Bianca, if you wanted to know, why didn’t you just ask?” Brayden’s face turned sad, and he touched my hand.
Bryce stood, his expression expectant. Meanwhile, Brayden watched me, his gaze unwavering. Sympathy swirled in his gaze, and it caused a shameful heat to fill me.
“You know,” Brayden began. “Dad wants to—”
“I don’t want to talk about him,” I cut him off.
Brayden’s expression tightened, and he glanced at Bryce.
“Tell me about my mother,” I said. Usually, I’d be too shy to seek out this information on my own, but now they were here, trying to reach out.
This, I could handle.
“What do you want to know?” Brayden asked.
“Everything.”
“Um…” He looked at Bryce again.
“Her name was Alyssa Titania Dubois, née Stephens. Her older brother, our uncle, is Arthur Stephens, and her parents, our grandparents, are Oliver and Marianne,” Bryce said.
I bit the tip of my thumb as he spoke. He watched me closely, then continued, “She loved music, art, and plants. She made all sorts of home remedies. She was soft-spoken, gentle, kind—she embodied feminine grace.”
Warmth filled my heart, and the room seemed to brighten. I could picture her now—so elegant and poised, just like a fairy princess.
Brayden let out a laugh.
“What?” Bryce frowned at him.
Brayden gave him an incredulous look. “Are you serious?”
“She was all of those things!” Bryce insisted. “At least to me!”
Brayden rolled his eyes, took my hands, and turned to me.
“Ignore his theatrics,” he said. “I don’t remember much about her, but Bryce isn’t wrong. She was all that. But from what I hear, she was also rebellious—”
“Don’t encourage it!” Bryce interrupted.
“Shut up,” Brayden said, continuing. “Mom was a terrible cook and loved playing pranks. And while it took a lot to make her angry, when she’d finally had enough, she didn’t hesitate to kick some ass.”
I blinked at him, too stunned to speak. But he wasn’t finished.
“Gloria was her godmother, and Mom spent her summers here, always trailing after her. She loved solving mysteries and getting into trouble. Grandfather hated it.”
That sounded kind of fun. “Why did he hate it?”
“She was only allowed out because Grandmother and Gloria are best friends. It’s dangerous for a female fae in this world,” Bryce interrupted. “You’ve seen what can happen!”
Brayden shot him a scathing look, but I was too absorbed in my thoughts to care.
