Page 207 of Whispers of Wisteria

I scrunched the fabric in my fist. “W-what?”

“After you were taken.” Uncle Caleb wasn’t looking at me now. “Declan came from Alyssa’s deathbed, expecting to see you, but you’d vanished before he could even name you himself. He never would have let you go. He tore the door from the hinges first, then moved to everything else. The family heads were also not informed until after you’d gone, and then the rest of us. Outsiders thought you’d died—as Bailey. Declan was so upset that he didn’t talk to anyone while he waited. They said there was a plan. It wouldn’t be long.”

Dots were swimming in my vision. “I didn’t ask—”

“But Kieran never arrived at the safehouse. You’d disappeared. After that, Declan officially abdicated his position as the Dubois heir,” he continued as if I hadn’t spoken. “And he spent the next eighteen years chasing rumors. But it was like following air, which worried us further. A fae needs a solid place and a family to survive. You were never to live on the run. You were never meant not to behere.”

I brought my fingertips to my lips. “I—”

“Declan, Bryce, and Brayden never stopped living like you were about to walk through the door.” Uncle Caleb wasn’t finished. “Every year on October thirteenth, they’d make a honey cake. They weren’t sure what flavor you’d like, but all fae love honey, and they still wanted to celebrate you.”

My stomach cramped.

“Every Christmas they’d put out a stocking,” he continued. “And when they bought those silly matching pajama sets, they’dinclude one for you. I can give you more examples, but the point is that no one ever gave up.”

I blinked, trying to clear my watery eyes.

“So in answer to your questions, all we expect is you.” Uncle Caleb still wouldn’t look at me. “You’re exactly what we want.”

“I didn’t live on the run,” I whispered after he finally stopped. My head was spinning. I…

I didn’t know what else to give him other than this.

His eyes snapped to me.

“We—” My heart was beginning to race. This was what I’d promised never, ever to tell. Otherwise, everything would be broken. “We stayed in one place until…” I bit the tip of my tongue. What happened to Sorcha was my fault. It was my fault we’d left. “We had to move when I was almost five. Kieran took me somewhere else and left for a while.”

“He left you to be found by Eric Richards?” Uncle Caleb’s expression was a mix of disbelief and anger.

“No.” I shook my head. “This was b-before. It was a nice place. They taught me stuff. Kieran came back. There was a fight, and then everyone was gone.” My voice broke at the end. Nobody ever stayed.

“What did you learn?”

I sniffled and wiped my eyes with the back of my arm. Typical.

He was still obsessing over my lack of education. He only ever constantly brought it up.

“Things a-about emotions,” I answered, tightening my grip on the rabbit’s foot. “Plants. How to talk to ghosts. Singing.”

Uncle Caleb straightened. “You sang,” he said in a flat voice. It almost sounded like a question.

My throat closed, and I watched my knees. My voice was strangled when I croaked out, “N-not an-an-anymore.”

He didn’t respond.

Why was he even angrier?

“Is—” I touched my mouth. “Is that a problem?”

“No,” he replied instantly. “You’re fine. You just need to stop running. You can begin by learning your roots.”

“I guess—” I pressed my lower face behind my knees. It was hard to think past the roaring in my head. I’d given up believing anyone was even looking after my first week at Mr. Richards. The concept only existed, sometimes, as a faraway fantasy. “I can try.”

“Don’t just try,” Uncle Caleb snapped. “Otherwise, whatever Osian was plotting is gone to waste.”

I sat up straight.

Osian.