Page 126 of Whispers of Wisteria
“You’re taking too long,” I replied. “Every day wasted is another day where Bianca has to live in fear.”
Understanding crossed Gregory’s expression. “Revenge is not going to cure her,” he said finally.
“You can call it revenge if you want,” I said, forcing my breathing to calm. “But I call it making sure no one else gets the chance to hurt her. Besides, I know that you’re plotting with Declan.”
Gregory looked at me, unblinking, and his scent shifted. The hair on my arms straightened. I couldn’t pinpoint what he was thinking, but he didn’t deny it.
It made me wonder—what would Gregory look like when angry? I’d heard rumors that he was unhinged, even bloodthirsty. No other fae in his generation had been able to match him.
The door opened before Gregory had a chance to respond, and Jonathon Grier stepped into the room.
I frowned. The perpetually late witch had called me earlier. He was supposed to have been here hours ago, and I’d given up any expectation that he’d actually arrive.
“Oh,” Jonathon said. His carefree expression dropped as he warily watched my visitor. “Hello, Gregory.”
“Mr. Jonathon,” Gregory replied, narrowing his eyes.
I pressed my lips together as the icy mood spread through my office. So the fae wereholding a grudge against the Griers after all.
“You’re here finally,” I said, redirecting their attention back to me. I didn’t want to break up another fight today. “You’re lucky. I was about to leave. What was it you wanted?”
“Oh, right,” Jonathon started, looking away from a stone-faced Gregory. He held up a manila folder. “I saw that you were looking for Bianca’s paperwork. There’s no need to create anything new; we’ve already gone through that process. I have everything here.”
“So she does have records?” I crossed my arms on my desk.
“Of course,” Jonathon replied with a wave. “We sorted the details when we found her.” He laid the folder on my desk. I reached out, but Gregory took it first.
The older man thumbed through the documents. “They’re all here,” he said with a nod. “Good.”
“You sent her to the university without any papers,” I replied. “She can’t get a job or live on her own. She doesn’t even have a license.”
“That’s her own fault.” Jonathon shrugged. “She’s ignoring the requirements.”
The wind felt as though it had been knocked from me. “What?”
He touched his glasses and sighed. “Bianca hasn’t completed the clearances for autonomy. Until that time, she must remain under conservatorship.”
“You’re blackmailing her?” The heat rose through my chest.
“It’s not blackmail.” Jonathon frowned, unmoved, and my skin bristled. “It’s a matter of safety. She has refused to cooperate with any medical or psychological assistance. That puts her at risk.”
“A risk?” I asked. “To whom?”
“Herself,” Gregory cut in, closing the folder. “Finally, a decision you’ve made that I support.”
I let out a low breath. “She’s—”
“She’s a danger to herself,” Gregory said again. “She needs intervention and medical care as soon as possible.”
“So you’ve noticed. Do you think it’s severe enough for immediate intervention?” Jonathon asked.
“It’s severe enough,” Gregory responded. “You adopted her. How have you been working to gain her cooperation this last decade?”
“It’s been a slow process.” Jonathon frowned again. “She doesn’t trust anyone. She’ll come around eventually.”
“Not without guidance.” Gregory scowled. “Don’t worry, the fae are prepared to handle it.”
“Well, that’s your culture, isn’t it?” Jonathon shrugged.
