Page 20 of Gift from the Tree

Nodding to myself in the mirror, like I need to visually see myself give the okay, I stand up straight and walk over to the door. Opening it with confidence I sure as fuck don’t feel, I immediately stop in my tracks as four bodies turn toward the noise and stare at me.

Tangling my fingers in my dress nervously, I look over all of them before stopping on Draken, deeming him my safest bet. Even though he did invite himself into the bed I was sleeping in, he doesn’t seem like he’d hurt a fly.

“Sorry I took so long. I kind of dozed off in my bath.” Word vomit. Why was that the first thing that came out of my mouth?

“No worries, little wanderer. Come get comfy and let’s get you some food.” Draken hits me with a warm smile that has my feet moving before my brain catches up with me, but instead of stopping, I just carry on casually and crawl back into my spot where I woke up, draping the covers over me.

“We weren’t sure of what you liked, so the chef made a little of everything and we’re just going to share while we talk about what’s going on,” Corentin declares.

My brain malfunctions for a second and I just sit there staring at him. After an awkward number of seconds, he raises an eyebrow at me.

“Okay.” Smooth, Willow, real smooth.

“Tell me what you’d like, little wanderer. I’ll load you a plate,” Draken pipes in, breaking the awkward moment I created.

Oh. I have no clue.

Back at the estate, my meals were prepared every day without any say-so from me. Donald dictated everything I could or couldn’t have. The staff would bring me breakfast and my coffee every morning, for which I’d sneak and hide sugar from the kitchen to make it the way I liked. Then they’d bring my lunch to the sitting room or back patio when the weather was nice, and I was expected to accompany Donald for dinner every night in the dining room, regardless of if he showed up or not, or to the restaurant of his choosing.

“Oh, um. I’m not sure,” I admit quietly. They all stop moving and just watch me, so I seek out the only person I’m comfortable with so far, but even Gaster’s raising a questioning brow.

“I, uh. Um, I’ve never been allowed to pick out my own food or request meals that I prefer. I have no clue what I’d like right now,” I speak low, looking down, twisting my dress tighter in my fingers.

“What do you mean—”

Gaster cuts off Corentin’s growl.

“Why don’t we just put a little of everything on a plate and see what you like and don’t like, and we’ll go from there. How does that sound?”

Blowing out a breath, I give him an appreciative smile. “Yes, that’s great, thank you.”

He nods and goes off to fix my plate.

“So, little wanderer, why don’t you tell us what you know so far?” Draken asks, flopping down at the foot of the bed and propping his head up on his hands. I can’t help but giggle at his childlike behavior. It’s such a contradiction to the seriousness of the other males in the room. He makes it look easy letting go of worries and living in the moment. Just enjoying life.

If only it were so simple.

“It’d probably be easier to just assume I know nothing. I’m not sure what all I’ve actually absorbed,” I tell him honestly. A lot’s happened. “Gaster, how much time has passed since you got me?”

“Almost four hours ago. It’s just after midnight,” he answers without looking up from the assortment of food he’s piling onto the plate.

“Oh.” I’m not sure why I’m so disappointed. My birthdays have never been grand or even celebrated. I’m not sure why it’s suddenly bothering me that this one ended up being by far the worst and now it’s…just over.

“Why so sad, sweetness?” Draken asks with that worried, lost look.

Deciding honesty is probably going to get me closer to answers with them than lying, I tell him what I’m feeling. “That was the worst birthday of my life.”

“Wait, today, well, yesterday was your birthday?” Draken asks, looking at me, surprised.

“Yep. My twenty-sixth birthday.”

The room falls silent like I said something important.

“Was yesterday the first time you used your powers?” Speaking for the first time, Caspian’s deadly tone slithers across my skin like a venomous snake ready to strike. The mistrust had deepened with a layer of disgust and accusation.

“Excuse me?” I question in anger and disbelief.

Caspian doesn’t respond as Gaster cuts in by handing me my plate and a cup of water.

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