Page 21 of Whispers of Wisteria
“Kieran never said anything,” I explained. “And…” My words trailed off as my thoughts fumbled for the language. “When I m-met people at the next place, they—they were human… I thought. But I—I guess they were shifters. My adoptive parents never mentioned it either. I d-didn’t know this world existed.”
I looked at the fireplace. “I—I just thought I was weird and could see ghosts. Now Brayden is helping me learn, and gives me books, and I’m trying. But there are things I still don’t understand, like how to tell what people are, and controlling how toblink, that sort of thing. I don’t think Ifeelthings the way other fae do.”
“I see,” he said finally, voice lower. “The problem lies with everyone else, not you. You weren’t ‘weird,’ you were unrooted.”
My breath hitched. “But, l-like, biologically, and physically, is it supposed to be different now?”
“You are fae, Bianca.” His blue eyes had grown darker, and his voice was steel. “Not because you were raised in it, but because it’s in your blood. That cannot be denied. Therefore, you know you are fae by your very existence.”
“Oh…” My skin grew warm. It was strange, but maybe I did feel a little more fae-ish now. “Thank you. I knew it was a good idea to talk to you.”
“Pardon?”
The reason I wanted to talk to him in the first place. He was old, so he’d had life experience. And he seemed educated, indicated by his very presence in this secret room. Plus…
“You’re the only fae I know who doesn’t expect something from me.”
He went still and his gaze sharpened. He didn’t speak for a full minute. Then he narrowed his eyes and said, “Is that what you believe?”
Oh…
I looked away, put my hands in my lap, and began to fidget with the hem of my skirt. “I…” My voice wavered. “I think so. I mean, everyone else… Like—like Brayden means well but he wants me to meet Declan. Bryce…”
Actually, before, I’d have said he wanted me to fit his version of what he thought I should be. But now….
“I’m actually not sure what he wants yet,” I admitted. “But there’s definitely something. So does everyone else. You, though—” I looked at him again. He was sitting back, watching me with a bored expression. “You don’t care about me.”
“Then why am I still here?”
I froze, then narrowed my eyes. This wasn’t good. I needed him to be unfeeling and heartless.
“Say something mean.”
“No,” he replied calmly.
Darn it. “Why not?”
“Because you want me to,” he said with a sneer.
“Well, I-I did whatyouwanted,” I pointed out. I pushed my toes against the floor and glared at the table. “So that’s not fair.”
“What did I want?” He seemed genuinely confused.
Didn’t he remember?
“You told me not to tell anyone about this place,” I told him, and he stopped tapping his finger on the arm of his chair. “And I didn’t. Not—not even Bryce!”
He frowned and the air seemed to grow heavier. “You obeyed?” he asked. He was leaning forward in his seat again, forearms to his knees and fingers laced.
I leaned back. Why was I in trouble?
“You—you asked!” My voice squeaked.
He was studying me in a way that made my fingers shake. What was he thinking?
“You have been conditioned,” he said finally, something in his voice putting me on edge.
“What do you m-mean?”
