Lord Oaken looked at Bria. “You have just discovered your great-grandmother is alive.”
A warm smile touched Wynn’s lips.
“I would say that warrants a small celebration,” Lord Oaken announced.
“And food,” Fiora proclaimed. “People always think better when fed.”
“You think everything can be solved with food,” Tavian said.
The fairy folded her arms across her chest from where she sat perched on the edge of the table. “I’m right. I’m always right, so I say we eat.”
Before long, everyone settled around one of the tables.
Bria found herself seated beside Wynn while Kaelan remained on her other side, staying close enough that his shoulder brushed hers.
Platters were passed around. Fresh bread. Stew rich with vegetables and herbs. Apples, pears, and honey cakes.
The simple meal tasted better than anything Bria could remember. Perhaps because for the first time in many days she was able to truly relax, or perhaps it was because she sat beside family.
She listened as Wynn shared stories of her parents. Small stories. The kind that mattered. How her mother had loved gathering wildflowers when she was young. How her father often collected a bunch for her when they first began seeing each other. How neither of them could pass a stray animal without attempting to help it.
Bria laughed through tears more than once, her parents living once again through her great-grandmother’s words.
“They spoke of me?” she asked softly.
“You were everything to them,” Wynn said, “and me as well. My heart broke when they left for Leighfeld. You were barely six months. The Wise live long lives. I am heartbroken and surprised to learn that your mom and da have passed, not that your da was part of the Wise, but your mum should have had many years left.”
“An accident took Da, and Mum struggled with his passing. I think she missed him or perhaps living so long without her magic took its toll.” Emotion clogged Bria’s throat, recalling that time.
She cleared her throat and spoke then of Willowmere, it being too painful to talk anymore about her parents.
She talked about Old Brenn. Leya and Arella, of wreaths, seashells, and village celebrations.
Wynn listened intently, every word mattering to her.
Eventually Bria asked the question she had been carrying since arriving.
“My gift.”
Wynn reached across the table and covered Bria’s hand with her own. “Tomorrow.”
The single word held both promise and certainty.
“There will be time enough for questions then.”
Bria wanted to protest, eager to talk now but instead, a yawn escaped her. Another followed moments later.
“I believe your body agrees with me,” Wynn said.
Kaelan’s arm slipped around her. He had been watching her for some time, the way her eyelids drooped, and how she fought to stay awake.
“You had enough for one day.” His tone left little room for disagreement.
Bria was too tired to argue.
Lord Oaken looked to the fairy. “Fiora, would you be so kind as to show them to the visitor’s cottage?”
Fiora zipped off where she sat on the edge of an empty plate and flitted in front of Kaelan’s face. “Let’s go before she face-plants on the table.”
