Page 30 of Whispers of Wisteria
Did he really want to know? “Page one hundred and five, second paragraph.”
“Whatareyou talking about?”
“Faery Homelife and the Family.” I held the phone between my ear and my shoulder as I picked at my fingernail.
“Oh, for the love of…” Uncle Gregory began muttering again. “Don’t tell me this is an act of belated teenage rebellion?” When I didn’t respond, he sighed, “Come here, and we can discuss this like rational—”
“No,” I interrupted, ignoring the stares thrown in my direction. “You’re on mymaternal side, so you have no authority over me. You tried to trick me.”
“Not really.” The false patience in his voice didn’t fool me. “That’s not how it works. Besides, even outside of that, I’m still your Elder Er Bashou and your magical guardian. Be reasonable. You do not have my permission to work with Gloria.”
“Why?” I asked, my heart racing with both fear and adrenaline. I wanted a reason. Otherwise, I could only assume that he was trying to keep an eye on me.
A tense second passed, and I could hear him breathing on the other end of the phone. I hoped that, maybe, he’d give me an answer.
I didn’t feel this had anything to do with Ms. Protean being his ex.
“Fine,” he said finally. “I’m calling Bryce.”
My eyes narrowed as annoyance caused my hand to tighten around my phone. “So?” I asked. “He can’t—”
“Page one hundred and seven,” he replied.
Why did it sound like he was smirking?
“Since you want to go down this route, let’s keep in mind that ours is, foremost, a patrilineal society.”
“Did you justcross-referenceme?” I wanted to scream at him, but my voice was a squeak instead.
Besides, who just kept a book like that at theirdesk?
He didn’t dignify me with an answer. “Let’s ignore the fact that Bryce is your ‘husband.’ He’s also the Dubois heir. By your own admission of your understanding of the rules, you are obligated to obey him.” My mouth opened in silent protest, but he wasn’t finished. “Do not work with Gloria. You will be putting both of you at risk. I look forward to your cooperation.”
The line went silent, and the call disconnected.
I held my phone in front of me and glared at the ‘call ended’ screen.
Howdarehe?
Now, there wasabsolutelyno way I wouldn’t be working with Ms. Protean. I’d love to see Brycetryto stop me.
Ms. Protean wasin a meeting when I arrived—or rather, an argument that was so loud even I could hear it through the cracked doorway.
“You have a responsibility; it’d be inhumane just to abandon it!” A woman’s voice drifted through the air.
“Don’t be dramatic,” Ms. Protean replied. “This is normal. Maybe if you’d announce your visits, you’d be more pleased with the outcome.”
“But that ruins the surprise,” Ms. Protean’s visitor sulked.
I peeked through the crack in the door.
There was a tall, short-haired woman in a beige suit and high, maroon heels, pacing around Ms. Protean’s office.
I’d only ever seen such masterful control of stilettoes during runway shows, and instantly, I was jealous. But my envy was short-lived when she stopped suddenly and pointed at me.
“Is that okay?” she asked Ms. Protean.
I stepped back, my skin flushing, before creaking the door open.
