Page 6 of Whispers of Wisteria

I sucked in a breath and crossed my arms as my stomach cramped. He’d said something like that once—an offhand comment about my resilience.

“You’re talking about the b-boys? A-are girls…” I stared at Dr. Stephens’s hands. The muscles in his fingers went taut as I spoke. “Are they the same, or…”

“The female fae,” he said, and something in his voice pulled my focus. His eyes were sharp and angry. “are not placed in harm’s way under any circumstances. What happened to you is our failure.”

“Oh…” My breath was tight. “You—you don’t need to take the blame. I lived.”

He scowled and the room grew darker. “That’s not the point.”

“Plus,” I continued, twisting my hair around my finger, “I’m Mu—so I’m different. You—you were just following o-orders.”

Dr. Stephens didn’t respond. Instead, he watched as I fidgeted.

Finally, I couldn’t take the silence any longer. “What?”

“You would have been raised inWhisperwindhad all gone well,” he said.

I almost didn’t ask, he might make fun of me. But I was too curious not to. “What’s it like?”

God, I sounded pathetic.

“The air is quieter there,” he replied, but his voice was softer now.

He was actually answering me! I held my breath and pulled my fists to my chest.

“The estate sits on a hill, and the fields around it are covered in lilies.” He wasn’t looking at me, but rather at some point over my shoulder, but it didn’t matter.

I didn’t want him to see me anyway. Not like this.

“We’ve a garden and a conservatory, like most fae homes,” he said.

I cupped my hands over my knees as he continued, “Full moons are for feasts, and there’s an area for viewing and food.We gather as a family to celebrate. There’s a music room, and Oliver has every kind of instrument imaginable. The library is—”

Dr. Stephens suddenly stopped, but I didn’t see why. I stared at my knees, trying to hold myself together.

It was hard to breathe, and I could hardly see through my blurred vision. I tried to focus on my shaking hands, but everything was tilted and dark. My shoulders were so tight I might break.

He’d hardly said anything, yet at some point, and I didn’t know when, I’d started crying.

It sounded nice—the life I might have had.

“Bianca?”

I stood before he could say another word. “I—I’m sorry,” I said, voice breaking. “I need to go.”

He didn’t say anything as I left the room.

2

I wokeup surrounded by blood.

The destruction of my precious property was, at first, overshadowed by the crippling cramps that had me curled into a ball. However, the pain I was pretty used to—although as the memory faded in between cycles, sometimes the reminder still took my breath away.

But the ruin of the thousand-thread-count baby pink sheets, which Titus had special ordered for me, made me wince.

“I hate being a girl,” I moaned into my pillow, thanking my lucky stars that I’d remembered to stock up on my womanly supplies in preparation for this inevitability.

Why would Mu decide on this form? There was nothing fun about this at all.