Page 32 of Whispers of Wisteria

Oh, okay.

“And you,” she said accusingly, though I wasn’t sure why she was angry. “You’re notjusta fae, are you?”

I blinked.

Well, no, I guess. Maybe?

I was theirruler. Or I would be, one day.

I glanced at Ms. Protean, unsure how to respond.

“Dr. Sartore.” Gloria sighed. “This is Bianca Dubois. She’s Bryce’s wife.”

“Bryce’s wife,” Dr. Sartore repeated, narrowing her eyes as she inspected me. She didn’t appear to believe the story.

Which was nice, in a way.

“What’s that about?” she asked.

Ms. Protean shrugged. “It’s Dubois business. You know how they are.”

“Fine then, I’ll go to Xavier.” She looked back at Ms. Protean.

MyXavier?

He should be in French class. I opened my mouth, but she brushed past me, addressing only Ms. Protean as she looked back. “I’ll come back later.”

“Please don’t,” Ms. Protean responded airily.

Without another word—but with one last, side-long glance to me—Dr. Sartore left with almost a dizzying, yet inspiring, speed for someone in such high heels.

I had so many questions, but first and foremost, “Why is she looking for Xavier?”

Ms. Protean rolled her shoulders. “Probably to ask about you.”

I shut the door and turned back to Ms. Protean’s office without the distraction of the hyena Alpha.

I hadn’t been back since I’d trapped Uncle Caleb. The space seemed… different.

There was a pile of books in the corner, and her desk, which had been so organized before, was covered with notebooks and pieces of yarn. Four coffee mugs sat abandoned in the corner, stacked two by two.

Ms. Protean, too, seemed off. Her hair was long and loose around her face. She must have seen me staring because she pulled out her hair clip and freed the rest of her ash-colored curls.

“What is it?” she asked, smoothing her hair again and twisting it into the clip.

“Oh.” I’d lost my train of thought, and my face warmed. “Why would she go to Xavier to ask about me?”

“Becauseyou’re a Dubois,” she replied, finishing up with her hair. “Bryce and Brayden wouldn’t tell her anything about you. But Mr. Renouf is in her quintet, so he might talk to her.”

“Why, though?” I asked. “She seemed to think this was strange.”

“Two reasons.” Ms. Protean pushed a pencil behind her ear. “First, you’re not Bryce’s usual type. Second, she’s probably never seen a female fae before.”

“What?” I wrinkled my forehead. That couldn’t be. “Just how many of us are at this school?”

“Two,” she replied, stirring her tea. “Including you.”

“Two?” Who came up with the idiotic idea tohideme here? I stuck out like a sore thumb!