Page 29 of Gift from the Wing

“Well, when you put it like that, I get it…” Draken trails off solemnly.

“Come on, little warrior, let’s explore,” Tillman says, laying his hand on my back and steering me out of the growing tension.

Corentin and Draken promptly take up both my sides, while Tillman takes the lead. Caspian, despite his dark mood, presses himself to my back and I exhale heavily as I feel some of his anger leak out at the touch of his body to mine.

I tell myself not to obsess or bombard him with questions because when he’s ready, he’s going to talk about exactly how he feels with me or the guys. Someone will hear about it. The others, though…I’m going to have to prompt them first.

“Are you all upset with me?”

Tillman stops walking so fast, if Corentin and Draken didn’t tighten their grips on my fingers, I would’ve smacked into his massive back.

“Why would we be upset with you?” he asks when he turns on his heels to face me.

“Everything we just learned…It’s a lot. Elementra basically took your uncle, made him my pseudo father, and everyone was kept in the dark, with their memories taken, willingly and unwillingly, because of me.”

“And what active role did you play in that, princess?” Corentin asks.

“Well, I don’t know…all of it, it feels like.”

“Wrong. None of it. You had no more control over any of this than we did. He wasn’t taken from us. He was still there for us plenty. Not as much as he was when we were younger, but he was still a very active adult in our lives. Are we grieving, saddened? Yes, of course, but we’re not upset, mad, or weirded out. We aren’t feeling any of the negative things toward you that you have running through your mind right now, princess.”

A whoosh of air rushes out of me. Leave it to Corentin to just give it to me straight like that.

“Thank you,” I murmur, squeezing his hand.

“There’s nothing to thank me for. It’s the truth. Sure, we still need more answers, but so do you. We’re in this together. All the same,” he says softly, leaning over and laying a sweet kiss on my forehead.

I nod to Tillman, silently giving him the go-ahead, though he lingers for a moment, his gaze piercing through me, searching for any hint of doubt. Whatever he sees must satisfy him because, without a word, he turns and continues his stride.

The hall itself is normal—nothing grand or remarkable—but the fork at the end pulls at my curiosity, making my pulse quicken. As if on cue, four chuckles echo around me, and I roll my eyes. They still find amusement in this and I doubt I’ll ever change. Everything new stirs excitement in me, no matter how small.

“Hopefully, it always will,” Tillman says, smirking slyly back at me over his shoulder.

Blushing like a schoolgirl from that devious little wink he shoots me, I focus my eyes back forward and set my mind solely on seeing everything I can. Which, at the moment, is nothing.

After walking the realm’s longest stretch of light gray walls, we come to the fork. To the left, it leads down a much smaller hallway, then double doors, whereas the right leads to a set of stairs. My gaze bounces back and forth in indecision. I want—no, need to see it all, but which way first?

“We’ll clear this floor first, princess, then make our way up,” Corentin declares, leading us to the left, making the decision for me.

I practically bounce on my toes as Tillman places his palm on the doors and pushes them wide, his eyes devouring everything before allowing me to pass him.

“No one’s in here. You don’t have to clear it like we’re infiltrating a Mastery structure.” I chuckle, patting his chest as I walk past him.

“Never know.” He shrugs off my suggestion, but I’m already too focused on the room we just entered.

The kitchen.

The walls are lined with copper pots and pans that hang from intricate iron hooks, while shiny marble countertops stretch far, providing plenty of space for someone’s—not mine—cooking creativity. The floor is laid with large, smooth stones that seem to release a gentle heat that I can feel through the soles of my shoes.

In the center, a massive wooden table dominates the space. Spread across it are different herbs, jars of what look like flours, seasonings, dried pastas. Everything preserved and ready to be used.

Taking a deep breath, I swear the air is filled with the scent of fresh bread and a hint of something sweet, like the promise of a dessert yet to come even though I know for a fact this space hasn’t been used in centuries, possibly ever.

“Damn. Chef and Mrs. Grace are going to have a field day in here.” Draken whistles.

“You think they’re going to want to come here?” I whirl around on my heel excitedly.

“Oh yeah. Where we go, they go. They aren’t going to let you or sweet baby Corentin starve. Also, unless we’re planning on eating sandwiches for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, we’ll need them. This kitchen is the shit compared to ours at the mansion or the east wing.” Draken earns himselfa little love tap on the shoulder from Corentin, but we all laugh because it’s true.

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