Page 2 of Whispers of Wisteria (The Garden of Eternal Flowers #5)
“It’s not the same.” He narrowed his eyes. “Lineage rings can’t be bought, forged, or inherited. Their magic only awakens when they’re won.”
“What?”
Dr. Stephens sat up straighter in his seat while I slumped in mine. My heart sank as he touched his tie, and I knew, from the excited gleam in his eyes, that he was about to lecture me.
I almost regretted asking.
“Fae men outnumber women. So demand for rings is endless, and supply is strictly controlled,” he began. “Also, only one Lineage ring can be won each new moon. Without one, the man’s bloodline dies with him.”
“Okay…” I drew out the word. I still didn’t get why this was a thing.
“Fae women can accept Lineage rings from up to four mates,” he continued with a serious voice.
“Your maternal grandmother, Marianne, only accepted one ring—your grandfather Oliver’s.
Alyssa had only Declan’s. On the other hand, your paternal grandmother, Vivian, accepted three: Dustin, Nikolas, and Callum’s.
Dustin is your biological grandfather, but they live as a family unit. ”
Another woman in my family had more than one partner? Maybe she’d give me some pointers.
Still. My fingers curled against my lap. I’d been both wanting and avoiding this conversation. Learning about my family made everything too real.
“Kieran is Vivian and Callum’s son,” he added.
The world narrowed. “Kieran is?” I asked.
“He’s your half-uncle on your father’s side.”
I stared at him, unblinking. “My… half-uncle?” The words tasted wrong in my mouth. “Why wouldn’t he tell me?”
“Most likely”—Dr. Stephens propped his elbow on the desk and rested his chin against his knuckles—“he didn’t think you were ready to know. And everyone else in the last decade? I assume it was to hide you. There was a risk of exposure if you knew the connection.”
I blinked through my blurring vision and looked at the jar of cookies again. This time, he reached over and handed me one directly.
I nibbled on it, thoughts heavy, before deciding on a better topic.
I glanced up. “How do you ‘win’ a ring?”
He’d been watching me before, but now he smiled. It was the first indication that something truly deranged was about to come out of his mouth.
“Only the strongest can make it through the new moon ritual,” he said proudly.
What an opening. Well, it was too late to back out now.
“What does that mean?” I asked cautiously.
“The Coliseum.” Dr. Stephens smirked. “It is a humbling, yet thrilling, rite of passage.”
The Coliseum? Did I even want to know?
“You mean like…” I began. “Roman gladiators?”
“They may have adopted it to suit their agenda, but know that the fae came up with it first.”
I studied the innocent-looking jewelry that’d been placed on the middle of his desk. “How exactly do you win the right to this special ring?”
“I’m glad you asked.” Dr. Stephens sounded genuinely pleased. He stroked his chin, his attention drifting past my shoulder in contemplative fondness. “It’s good to show interest in your own culture.”
But that wasn’t why I was asking. I wanted to know why this normally expressionless man was so deeply moved by this very odd topic.
“When a young man reaches the age of eligibility—that is, between twelve and eighteen—they gain the privilege of partaking in the Rite of Inheritance,” he began solemnly.
What in the world…
“In the Coliseum, we no longer stand amongst our blood and comrades. With the jewelry as our prize, everyone is an enemy.” Dr. Stephens was still gazing into the distance.
“Once a winner emerges victorious, the ring is returned to the family estate’s treasury for safekeeping until a potential mate is found.
Then we hold a service for any casualties.
The finest chefs showcase their greatest works at the feast that follows. ”
What the heck? He didn’t even flinch at the last bit!
There was no way I understood this correctly because if so, then…
“Are you saying that the fae throw their children into a pit so they can fight to the death for a stupid ring?”
Dr. Stephens frowned. I’d offended him. “It’s not a pit; it’s a Coliseum. And no one usually dies. For example, Bryce and Brayden fought as rivals and Brayden survived. Then he went on to win his own Legacy ring during another new moon.”
Oh, okay. That seemed a bit better.
Maybe this wasn’t as horrible as I’d first imagined.
After all, some competitive rivalry wasn’t all that bad.
Such activities tended to build character.
In nature, battle was a way for the male to show his prowess to potential partners.
A ring was a nice touch—I always believed in encouraging excellence.
Might some people think it extreme to give youngsters magical items that would determine the course of their entire future? Maybe. Logically, though, what was the harm? After all, why shouldn’t the strongest scamp reap the reward of a secure and prosperous future?
“Accidents do happen, of course, and long-time grudges can be born. Caleb lost his pinky toe; even in death, he’s still bitter,” Dr. Stephens said nonchalantly as he dipped a cookie into his coffee mug.
“Then Declan accidentally tore off part of Elias’s ear.
He’s your half-uncle from Vivian and Nikolas.
But, between us, I think that was deliberate.
They were always so rough with each other. ”
My mouth dropped open.
He pretended not to notice. “My point is that things can become chaotic when caught in the thrall of the Coliseum.”
“What?” The sense of foreboding returned. “You’re losing body parts too?”
And how did you accidentally tear off part of an ear?
Dr. Stephens frowned, openly sad that I disapproved.
He set down the cookie and linked his hands.
“You, dear, have so much to learn about our people. We’re not just men, we’re fae.
We can handle some everyday, surface-level maiming.
We’re made to be resilient, and fae have a higher pain tolerance than humans. ”
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 in Whisperwind had 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.