Chapter 31: Bianca - Voice - Change

Bianca
Voice

* * *

The others were still talking in low droning voices that had long since run together into an indiscernible mumble, and I sat in my cold room, humming lowly under my breath and rocking back and forth on my butt, as I waited for my thoughts to settle.

Osian.

But I was also Mu, and Bianca?

The names seemed to hold so much meaning, but also didn’t tell me anything. I was the same person I was moments before—and you would think this wouldn’t change a thing.

But Mu?

Even though I could hear him sometimes, even feel the electrifying rush when he’d controlled my movements, the idea of him still felt so far, fantastical. Like a faraway tale forever out of reach.

Osian though…

I could almost grasp it—I could almost remember.

While I racked my thoughts trying to reach into my most distant memories, all I could recall were the distant whispers in the night. Convoluted plots that made no sense, and discussions I couldn’t understand.

I’d wake up then, not able to remember the nightmares. Those were the times when Kieran stood guard outside of my bedroom door, while Sorcha would hold me tight in her arms, telling me that everything would be okay.

And then she would sing, and all my nightmares would fade away.

But what was it?

I stretched my legs in front of me, and they began to tingle as the blood rushed back into my limbs. The moon had set, leaving me alone in the darkness of my room with the echoing sounds of conversation in the distance.

What was I doing?

I shouldn’t be hiding here. That wasn’t me.

Disconnecting was easy—to allow others to worry for me, to make my decisions. That way, I would have nothing left to worry about, no responsibilities or failures.

However, that wasn’t what I wanted, and nothing would change.

But stepping up was hard. Success wasn’t guaranteed.

I’d tried so many times before. I’d spoken up for myself, and it seemed that every decision I’ve ever made backfired. How many self-pep-talks could one make before it became pathetic?

I would probably fail again too, and I would get hurt. But did it mean that I shouldn’t try?

The feeling was almost back in my legs, and I pulled myself to my feet, bracing myself against the door while I waited for the last of the prickling sensations to subside.

The buzzing, too, began to fade from my head, and I could also see my path. There was nothing wrong with leaning on others and accepting help. But at some point, you needed to stand up for your own self-interests too.

After all, if you wanted something done right, you had to do it yourself.

I moved to my door—ready to crash their party—but then I paused, glancing back to my neatly organized vanity.

The stone Kathleen had given me lay in the center of my table, a shiny white that almost shone in the shadow. I wasn’t sure why, but it felt necessary to bring along, so I didn’t hesitate. I grabbed it, shoving it into my pocket before leaving my bedroom.

My footsteps sounded faintly as I walked barefoot down the hallway. Once outside of the library, I placed my hands on the oak double doors, quietly gathering the strength to go inside. The argument was louder than ever now, but nothing registered.

It didn’t matter what they thought, whatever they decided wouldn’t be relevant anyway.

Without a second thought, I pushed the doors open, albeit with more force than I’d even anticipated, and they swung inward, the sound crashing through the room.

“The hell?” Damen stood at the head of a desk, mouth open and eyebrows raised.

Everyone else was scattered throughout the room: Titus was leaning against a bookshelf with Julian beside him. Miles sat rigidly in one of the deep, leather reading chairs, his face frozen in a surprised expression. My adoptive parents were there too, with my mother taking up another armchair with my father behind her. Bryce, Brayden, Gregory and Dr. Kohler were grouped in another corner.

Well, it seemed like everyone was here. Excellent.

And everyone, other than Titus, seemed rather surprised to see me.

In fact, Titus was smirking as his green eyes flashed over me, but that probably had little to do with the current situation.

I wondered how far this mind-reading trick of his worked.

“Bianca?” Finn stepped over from my left side, having been hiding out of my direct line of sight. “What are you doing out of bed?”

Oh, good. He was here too. I hadn’t even heard him earlier, but that didn’t matter.

“I am sick and tired of people telling me what to do.” I pressed past Finn, ignoring my adoptive parents as I moved toward Gregory. “I understand you’re trying to help, but if you don’t knock it off, I’m going to have Titus whisk me away to some remote island where I don’t have to deal with any of you ever again.” But then I frowned—there might be a small glitch in that plan. “Actually, I’m not sure, but I think he probably has an island.”

“I have an island,” Titus replied. Now he sounded positively gleeful.

“See!” I waved my hand in Titus’s direction. “He even has an island!”

“You’re talking again.” Uncle Gregory’s relief quickly masked over into boredom, he appeared to be undisturbed by my anger as he frowned. “You can’t run away with Mr. Ducharme. Then everyone will start to suspect you two are mates.”

“Let them find out. I don’t care anymore.” I growled, looking past the shocked faces of the others. “What’s the council going to do about it, attempt to kill me again? Let them try. They can’t do anything worse than what I’ve already been through.”

“No…” It was Julian who moved between the two of us, pulling me back from Uncle Gregory and holding my hands in his. “The council is a completely different issue. Don’t tempt them. You might not care, but I do.”

“We’re not tackling the council right now,” Damen agreed, still standing regally behind the desk. He scrutinized me, heavy and heated, and the wake of his attention left me with the most puzzling sensation.

What in the world was his problem?

“There are other issues to address first,” he added.

Other issues.

I turned to my brothers, biting my lip. Bryce was watching me, body tense, as he was seemingly waiting for what I might do next. And then there was Brayden, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. There was a major outstanding issue I’d been avoiding for quite a while.

“Maybe you’re right.” The edges of my anger began to dull as the clarity of their argument reached through my chaotic thoughts. I couldn’t very well tackle the council without first facing some of the smaller things in my life.

I held Brayden’s eyes, and he stopped fidgeting. Without words passing between us, he knew what I was going to say. His expression lightened from tense nervousness to excitement, and he sucked in a breath.

“I’ll do it,” I told him. Saying it out loud made everything more real.

“Really?” he said, a slow smile breaking over his face. “You’ll come to dinner?”

“Sure, why not?” How bad could it be? At least the food was bound to be good. From my experience thus far, everyone had good taste. Even Uncle Caleb, in his own warped way, seemed to have a refined, yet snobbish palate.

And any meal provided by the fae was bound to be a memorable experience.

“You know he’ll be there, right?” Brayden continued; his voice was threaded with caution. Almost as if he was afraid to allow himself to get too excited, lest he be disappointed. “That’s literally the point; he wants to meet you.”

I frowned at him, pulling my hands from Julian and pressing them into my sides. “I know.”

“Bianca!” My adoptive mother was late to the party, and had jumped to her feet, crossing the room within a few long strides as she faced me. “You’re clearly not thinking right.” Was her first real statement to me since this entire ordeal had begun weeks ago. She grabbed my arm, nails digging slightly into my skin. “We’ll take care of it. You should be resting.”

“I’m done resting.” I stepped back from her, but not out of her grip as I truly studied the slightly taller woman for the first time in my life. I’d always thought she was elegant, stand-offish and scary, but now she was none of that.

Even with her expert application, she was not entirely able to hide the lines around her eyes, and her concealer barely covered the dark shadows there. But it was her eyes themselves which stood out the most.

I’d avoided looking into her face for most of our relationship. But I could see it now. Stress and worry shone in her expression, and her shoulders were rigid with tension and fear. And now that I knew how to recognize it, there was the unmistakable hum of chaotic energy radiating between us.

She seemed one breath away from an anxiety attack. How long had it been this way?

“It’s okay.” Even though it felt awkward, I pet her hand, trying to reassure her. Her posture relaxed and her grip loosened as she stared at me, jaw turning lax. “I’m really fine now. You don’t have to worry.” Her light gaze still held mine, unsure, and I added, “Thank you.”

There was so much packed into that statement. Yes, she hadn’t been the greatest mother, but she was as messed up—if probably not more—than me. She’d really done the best she could. They both had.

And it wasn’t like I made it easy for them.

I’d been too scared of being rejected—of being forced to return—that I never once told them the truth. I had refused to cooperate from the beginning.

But I really was appreciative.

She let go of me then, stepping back until she bumped into my adoptive father, who’d come to stand behind her. He placed his hand on her shoulder, but he was watching me in surprise.

“You don’t just sound like her.” Her hands shook as she covered her mouth. “You act like her too.”

Sound like her…

My ears rang as the vague recollection of our first meeting replayed in my head. That’d been one of the first things she said about me—along with that fact that she couldn’t stand the sound of my voice.

It hurt then, but now I understood.

She was—and is—still grieving my biological mother. Her best friend.

Being around me had continuously rubbed at that wound. It wasn’t my fault, of course, and I didn’t feel sorry about it. But we both needed to move on.

“Hey.” I rubbed my arm. I couldn’t avoid him forever either. But this entire experience was kind of horrifying—I’d never tried to bargain with her before. “I’ll cooperate, but only if you talk to someone too.”

It had been something she’d been on my case about, especially over the last year. I hadn’t ‘recovered’ enough for her standards and tried to get me to move from Dr. Reed—or Kohler—to Dr. Nam. I really needed someone who had ‘trauma expertise’, she’d argued.

Her mouth fell open as she stared at me, and the tense atmosphere in the room seemed to grow thicker. “You want me to talk to a therapist?” She sounded highly insulted at the idea.

Father was watching her cautiously now, and I realized that this was a fight I never knew existed between them.

“That’s the only way I’ll do it.” That wasn’t true anymore, but she didn’t have to know. But this was something that I knew she cared about deeply. “I’ll go see Dr. Nam—and participate.”

Even though I did think his rituals were a little bit strange.

She pursed her bright red lips, and her chin jutted forward. I was preparing myself for her inevitable refusal when, “Fine.”

“Fine?” Father pulled his hand from her and stepped back. “You’ll go?”

The woman who raised me ignored his reaction, not taking her eyes from mine. “Do you promise to go? I’m going to ask.”

I rolled my eyes. It was almost sad how little she trusted me, but I guess that was to be expected. “Yes, I promise to go see Dr. Nam, let him stare at me, drink his too-strong tea, and answer the random questions he asks. I will go—”

“Twice a week,” she interrupted.

Now that was just going too far. I chewed on the inside of my cheek, bargaining. “—once a week. Just like you’ll talk to Dr. Kohler once a week too.”

She frowned, glancing over to the doctor in question. Dr. Kohler, in the meantime, was watching the two of us in astonishment. Then she looked back to me. “Why do I have to go to Trinity?”

“Because—” I raised my finger in the air, ready to lecture the same way she’d done for me for the last ten years. “She’s in your quintet, and she also knew her.” My thoughts drifted over the many arguments they’d had in the past—most of which were regarding me. The only reason my adoptive mother had won was because she had the legal interests. And because she liked to protest loudly from a distance. “I think she’ll hold you accountable to work on things.”

“She’s a necromancer,” she grumbled under her breath. “I’m a witch. I’m not scared of her.”

“That’s not true,” I argued. It was obvious in the way she practically flew across the room any time my doctor had ever entered. “But that’s because you have no control over your abilities.” She sucked in a breath at my words. “You shouldn’t be intimidated by her. If you want to help me, then you need to help yourself.”

I reached in my pocket, pulling out the stone. It felt warm and vibrated in my palm. There was no hesitation as I grabbed my mother’s wrist and slapped the stone into the center of her palm. “Kathleen gave this to me—I’m giving it to you to hold for a while. I think you need it more.”

She held her hand open in front of her, staring down at her palm, and my father stepped up behind her, looking over her shoulder.

“My mom gave that to you?” he asked. “I knew you met her, but I didn’t know the details. She was always generous and wise. Did she have any messages to pass on before she died?”

“Um…” I was suddenly nervous under his scrutiny. “No.”

I wouldn’t exactly consider ‘He’s such a fucking asshole’ and an inane fear of prophecies to be a pinnacle example of generous wisdom. Especially from someone her age.

Titus choked, and I had to turn my warning glare on him. He better not say anything either. They were still staring at the stone with a reverence that I didn’t want to shatter.

But the dragon ignored me, saying to Uncle Gregory, “Seems like she was angry at Michael. She was focused on him and prophecies.”

“Ah,” Uncle Gregory said in understanding. “Michael did have a way of getting under her skin.”

Father’s forehead wrinkled before he finally shrugged. “Makes sense,” he said finally. “She had the biggest fear of fortune telling. If she had it her way, she would have just stayed hidden in a small hut in the woods—she never wanted to be an officer. I’m glad that she was able to live in peace, at least for a little while.”

He dropped his arm from mother and moved to me, touching my shoulder. “Thank you, Bianca, for making sure she wasn’t alone.” His attention moved to the side and his words were softer when he added, “I wouldn’t have blamed you for leaving once you found out who she was.”

I blinked rapidly, looking to the floor. There was a bloodstain in the middle of Damen’s worn carpet, and I wondered if the man had any idea.

But that wasn’t important right now. “I wouldn’t have left.” My voice was a near whisper. “It’s fine.”

And with that, the tight noose around my heart loosened, and being in the presence of my adoptive parents no longer caused my anxiety to rise.

They were just normal people, like everyone else; people who made mistakes, bad decisions, and should still very much be held accountable for them. But maybe, I also didn’t understand their reasoning either.

Even so, I didn’t think I would ever be able to see them as my ‘parents’ the same way—in a way that I never really did because they’d worked so hard to keep that distance between us. It made sense, now. It was obvious that they didn’t want to step into roles and cross boundaries that they knew belonged to someone else—another family.

And that still hurt because, to me, they were all I’d even known.

Hating them for it though? I had a better use for my time and energy. Even though I had no idea what my future relationship with them might be.

They no longer had any control of my life.

I stepped back from them then, searching for and finding Bryce. Brayden was there too, no longer a nervous ball of energy as he looked between us.

These men were my family now, and these were the relationships I needed to focus on.