Chapter 12: Bianca - Even - Change

Bianca
Even

Bryce was in his bedroom when I got home. I wasn’t sure which was more offensive: the fact that he was hiding to begin with—since he very obviously had only just been hanging out in the living room with Finn, disappearing only seconds before I entered the room. Or the fact it was Finn who had to point me in the right direction.

Finn had been sitting, crossed legged on the couch with a book open in his lap, looking innocent enough. But across from him, next to one of Damen’s lounge chairs, was another book. It was face down beside a half-empty mug.

I glanced at it, then back to the blonde, who only shrugged as he said, “Yeah, I don’t know. Bryce ran and hid the second he heard you coming.”

I groaned, rolling my eyes. This was further proof that Titus was right—I was going to have to be the one to mend the chasm between us. It was my responsibility. I spun around and almost ran into Titus's chest.

“Sorry,” I apologized, ducking under his arm. “I need to take care of something.”

It was impossible to miss Finn’s odd look, or Titus’s solemn nod, but neither were important at the moment. Instead, I crossed my arms, protecting myself from Damen’s drafty hallway, as I made my way to Bryce’s room.

I barged in without knocking on the door.

“Bianca!” He was in the process of taking off his shirt. He jumped, spinning to face the door, as he pulled down the olive fabric over his washboard abs. “What are you doing? You can’t just barge into a man’s room.”

But he wasn’t a man; he was my brother.

“We need to talk.” I pointed to the bed. “Sit.”

His bottom lip jutted out in a pout, but he obeyed, throwing himself into a defeated heap at the bottom of the bed. “What?” he asked, his tone petulant.

“I’m still very mad at you.”

Bryce’s forehead wrinkled as his scowl deepened. “I know. I’ll still help you where I can. Don’t worry, Brayden will be a good Er Bashou. He’s not as solid of a fighter, but—”

“You’re not getting away that easily.” I stomped across the room, poking my finger into his chest. With him sitting, our faces were almost even. “You’re my Er Bashou, and we’re going to get along.”

He seemed shocked. “We don’t usually get along?” he asked. “I thought we were rather amicable—other than the incident at the hospital.”

I wanted to pull out my hair. “No, we don’t!” I stomped my foot, because surely, he was joking. “We’re rivals! You’re my arch-nemesis.”

“Really?” His scowl had faded—now he only seemed confused. “Your ‘arch-nemesis’? What makes you think that?”

“You’ve stared me down in class!” Had he forgotten? Because I hadn’t—it’d been so embarrassing. “You’re always trying to challenge my authority.”

“No…” Bryce tilted his head to the right. His hair was in complete disarray after being caught in his shirt, and, for once, he seemed almost normal. “I’m helping you.”

Helping? “You’ve been challenging me!”

To his credit, he didn’t deny it. Instead, he leaned back. “At first, sure. I didn’t know who you were. I couldn’t have someone usurping my position.”

But it wasn’t only ‘at first.’

“Then?” I prodded.

“I’m trying to help you,” he reiterated. “A lot of people are going to try to throw you off, especially in the courts. I’m trying to get you ready.”

“By annoying me?”

Bryce shrugged. “If that’s what it takes. Us fae are very competitive.”

I was screaming internally. I totally should have said something sooner. We could have been so much more productive than this.

We could have been working on skills instead of all these stupid power struggles.

“And not only that…” Bryce’s expression shifted, and he looked away. “You’re my sister. In the place of our father—as you’re not talking to him—and as the oldest male in your immediate family—”

“You better not finish that sentence,” I warned him.

He did it anyway. “It’s my responsibility to look after you and make sure you’re taken care of.” Then he paused, raising his eyebrow and shooting me a strange look. “And why not?”

Could he be that dense? “You’re not my boss.” What was with all these men trying to tell me what to do?

“We’re a patriarchal society,” he reasoned with a roll of his shoulders. “That’s just the way it’s always been. It’s only because you’re used to life here that I haven’t taken you home.”

Was that so? My eyebrow twitched. “You’re not going to take me anywhere.”

“It’s safer there.” He was giving me a serious stare that made the hair on the back of my neck raise. “You know I’ve been considering it, especially lately with everything that’s been going on. We could go back to Whisperwind, our mother’s home. Our cousins live there too. They’ve been wanting to meet you and can help keep you safe. I’m getting a lot of pressure from every direction to bring you back, and sometimes it almost feels like it’s the right thing to do.”

That made absolutely no sense.

I didn’t know a lot about society types, but, “If the fae are such a patriarchal society and about following traditions, then why are we living in our mother’s home?”

Bryce blinked and his mouth opened into an ‘o’, yet he remained soundless.

“What about the Dubois family residence?” I pressed.

Bryce crossed his arms sullenly. “We don’t live with them.”

I wanted to bang my head against the wall in frustration. “Why not?”

“Well…” He glowered at the wall. “Grandfather still hasn’t gotten over the fact that our parents got married.” He crossed his arms, and his features and body language closed off. “It’s a long story.”

I waited for him to continue, but his mouth remained stubbornly shut.

“Well…?”

“I’m sure you’ll meet him one day—” was Bryce’s short reply, “—he’s on the council.”

Right. It was no surprise that my paternal grandfather was part of a grander plan to kill me if he’d had the choice. I’d expect nothing less.

“It’ll be chaos when they find out you’re a woman,” Bryce was saying through clenched teeth. His fists were tight over his tense legs, and he sat stiff as a board. It looked as though he was three seconds from running out of this room. “I hope he has a heart attack.”

Okay…

I blinked at him, my hand falling back to my side. I remained uncertain how to react. I wasn’t even sure when, exactly, I’d gotten used to Bryce’s stoic expressions and logically comforting observations, but this was certainly something I was not used to seeing.

So, he could hold a grudge and harbor deep loathing too?

Amazing.

Bryce was a trained warrior who could slay without remorse—though I hadn’t seen any evidence of this yet, but I’d take everyone else’s word for it until I saw such deadly behavior in action. He also could resist most poisons—though I hadn’t seen this happen either, since he’d swooned during our first outing alone. However, he was wise. He, alone, understood me when I was in the hospital.

He’d even brought me an engagement cheeseburger—without disgusting toppings!

It was like he could read my mind. There was nothing worse than a burger ruined by pickle juice.

There were other things that made him worthy, none of which had anything to do with our tentative brother-sister relationship. But those were his most impressive qualifications.

There was already too much nepotism within this whole organization, but truly he was the most qualified. I think.

“You’re my Er Bashou.” I pointed at him—I had decided for sure.

Bryce’s forehead wrinkled in confusion. “Um… I know?”

“And you’re going to go with me to Eric Richards’ house,” I told him.

“What are you talking about?” His expression shifted into something dark. His brows lowered in anger, as he responded in a low voice. “You’re not going there.”

I put my hands on my waist, barely resisting the urge to laugh. It wasn’t nearly as frightening to have this conversation with Bryce. “I’m going with Titus, Damen, and Uncle Gregory whether you like it or not.”

“Uncle Gregory is okay with this?” His sage eyes darkened, but then he shook his head, seemingly not bothered by the elder’s acceptance.

That’s what I was assuming, at least. Titus was the one who’d told me he was going.

“It doesn’t matter. As your older brother, I’m not allowing it.” Bryce had jumped to his feet, stopping only a foot away from me. He also put his hands on his hips as he argued, “Your mental well-being is my responsibility. I can’t let you go back there.”

Instead of being outraged, I was almost touched at the flicker of concern in his eyes.

But he was wrong. My mental health was no one’s responsibility but my own. What was it going to take for everyone to realize this?

Besides, “If you care so much about my feelings, why did you force me to go to the hospital?”

He straightened as his argument wavered, and I could tell that he was considering his next words carefully.

I didn’t rush him. I wanted to hear his perspective.

“I had to make a choice,” Bryce finally responded. He sounded almost defeated, but there was a hint of stubborn determination there too. “And I decided that your physical health had to come before your mental health, because it would be neglectful of me to allow anything else. You can’t leave a root-bound plant to suffocate because you don’t want to risk hurting it, otherwise you’re not helping at all.”

Well… When he put it that way, it made sense.

Instead of being offended, something about this fierce protectiveness caused my chest to feel light as air.

He did care.

But I still didn’t like it. Plus, it remained that we had to reach an understanding.

“Fine.” I wrapped my arms around my stomach, my attention drifting to the top of the tall, oak dresser. Bryce was the minimalist sort, and only a few scattered items were spread out over the surface: his cell phone, a watch, the locket with our mother’s picture, and his wallet. I couldn’t spot any other personal effects anywhere in the room. “Then just don’t come as my brother.”

“That won’t work,” Bryce replied. “I’m always going to be your brother.”

My fingernails dug into my arms, and I breathed deeply, trying to keep my expression cool.

“Then you need to figure out how you’re going to balance being my brother with what I need to do.” I made sure to speak slowly, so that there was no misunderstanding. “Brayden too. I get that you have traditions, but you need to be flexible. Would you respect my decisions if I were a boy?”

Bryce was glaring at the floor. He was far more passionate about this than I expected. “Yes.” His voice was curt. “But it doesn’t matter. None of this would have happened if you were male.”

I brushed off his comment. “I’m going. You can either stay here or come with me. It’s your choice. But if you can’t trust me to make my own decisions, then you might as well resign.”

They could do that, right? I wasn’t sure, but it felt like the right solution.

I hoped he wouldn’t quit.

His jaw clenched, but it was obvious from his expression that he was giving in.

“And stop trying to tell me what to wear,” I added for good measure. His snide comments about my skirts and pajamas were getting rather annoying.

He looked up, affronted. “No.” He set his mouth in a grim line and squared his shoulder. “That has absolutely nothing to do with you being the Xing. I’m protecting your dignity.”

I groaned, covering my eyes. We’d gotten somewhere, at least, but then there was this.

There’d been too much adventure today. This could be another fight for later.

“Whatever,” I mumbled under my breath. But as I started to leave, he touched my arm, stopping me.

“I’m sorry. I’ll try,” he said. “I know we’re not… there yet. But we will be.”

‘There,’ as in at that stage in our relationship where he could tell me what to do (which would be never)? Or ‘there,’ which was to take me wherever he called home?

I didn’t think I wanted to know.