Page 6 of Whispers of Wisteria (The Garden of Eternal Flowers #5)

“Customs?” I breathed, and a sense of foreboding filled me. This topic, again.

“It’s a general overview of culture.” Brayden sounded shy, and his knee began to bounce. “It’s an introductory book you created a long time ago. They say you’ve always been curious and like to learn things for yourself.”

Did they now? Though it’d make sense—if this were like reading a diary I’d written, it wouldn’t feel like someone else telling me about my life.

It’d feel like…

It’d feel like everything was no longer spiraling out of control around me.

Still…

“What culture?” I frowned down at the grotesque image. “Is that a goblin eating a human?” It totally was.

“Don’t worry too much about every chapter.” Brayden quickly flipped forward through the book. “Most of these things are outdated anyway.”

“Brayden,” I said, and a nervousness began to crawl over me.

Brayden watched me with wide-eyed wariness, and his voice shook a little when he replied, “Yes?”

“Why are you and Dr. Stephens suddenly talking to me about fae customs?” I moved my finger over the book’s pages, vaguely noting that it felt warm. “We’ve barely had time to cover what I can do. Aren’t I supposed to be learning how to use my abilities?”

“Yes,” Brayden replied.

But I pressed onward. “I’d think, then, that culture would be one of the last things to talk about since I’m not going to the fae realm anytime soon.”

Brayden leaned back. “Well, Mu created our realm. So you should probably feel some connection…”

He was telling the truth, but not entirely.

“Is there any personal information about Mu in here?” That, probably, would help me feel a ‘connection’ other than reading about gruesome traditions that—the first occasion I could—I would definitely be addressing.

“No.” Brayden frowned. “There are other books—about family lines, history, personality analysis, and past lives. I have those here.” He pulled out two more thick books, laying them beside the first on the table. “But I figured you’d want to start with the prophecy.”

My chest swelled. He did understand. Trying to figure this out on my own would have taken ages.

Meanwhile, Brayden was giving me something that I hadn’t been able to find before—a way to more fully understand myself.

“There’s a lot more between the public and private archives,” Brayden said, green eyes shining in apology. “And Uncle Caleb and I have been trying to find your private journals and diaries for years, but we haven’t—”

He stopped as I slipped out of the chair and threw my arms around his neck. Maybe it was the medicine making me emotional, or perhaps it was because it was that time of the month. But I didn’t want him to feel guilty when he’d been trying so hard.

And even more than that, he’d already helped me so much.

No one had ever taken my research seriously before.

“Thank you.” I pressed my cheek against his clavicle. “You didn’t have to.”

“Oh…” He exhaled and hugged me back. “Of course.”

His voice hitched, and I pulled back, holding him at arm’s length. “Or did you do it because you have to?”

“No,” Brayden replied, face pink. “We help you because we want to.”

That was reassuring, at least a little.

“What about Mr. Weaver?”

“You should call him Uncle Caleb.” Brayden sighed. “Same thing with Uncle Gregory. I think it’d make them happy.”

I’d thought about it… Really, I had. It felt weird to be so formal, especially since I’ve been working with Dr. Stephens and Damen lately.

I pushed back and looked away. “But… He has a doctorate.” The excuse felt flimsy, even to me. “He’s worked hard to earn that and—”

“Then you’ll need to start calling Uncle Caleb ‘doctor’ too.” Brayden didn’t sound fooled at all. “He has a Doctorate of History.”

“But…” I said again. “Everyone calls him ‘mister’…”

Brayden shrugged. “That’s because he doesn’t care about that stuff. He’s extremely laid back once you get to know him. He was the popular one.”

I couldn’t imagine such a thing. Even as a spirit, he was one angry rant away from a heart attack.

“He was the first of us to attend a non-fae university,” Brayden continued. “It inspired Uncle Gregory to branch out, too. But Uncle Caleb moved to the human realm because he was looking for something.”

There were fae universities?

Still, on the topic at hand.

Hidden libraries.

“Do you think that if we called him here—”

“Don’t!” Brayden said sharply and held up his hand. “He might like you, but not that much.”

“He doesn’t like me.”

“Oh, he does,” Brayden was quick to reassure me. “But he’s probably not going to talk to you about it yet.”

What in the world was he talking about—Mr. Weaver didn’t like me at all. Especially as I’d accidentally trapped him in a room with Ms. Protean, and…

I hadn’t dared to face him. It was at my insistence—after I sheepishly admitted to Bryce what I’d done, and he’d laughed at me—that my oldest brother went and freed the ghost. I hadn’t heard anything from the spirit since.

Still, he might be magically compelled to be nice if I asked him a direct question.

“He’s an Officer.” I twisted my fingers into my skirt. “Shouldn’t he have to answer me because I said so?”

“I wish.” Brayden laughed. “That’d make things so much easier.”

Heat rose to my face, and he stopped laughing.

“I’m sorry.” He pushed his curls back from his face. “I didn’t realize…” He cleared his throat. “Sorry, but I didn’t know you actually believed we had to listen to you.”

My skin burned, and I looked at the books he’d brought for me. I needed this education more than I’d thought.

“We don’t have to obey your orders.” Brayden swiped a tear from his eye. “Where in the world would you get that idea?”

But Damen had said—

“Ah, I get it—Damen must have said something stupid because that’s how he wishes the world worked,” Brayden deduced. “I listen to you because I like you… Do you honestly believe you’ve been telling Bryce what to do this whole time?”

My skin warmed. Well, yeah—

“I’d pay good money to see that,” Brayden said, lips twitching again. “Bryce doesn’t listen to anyone. He’s doing what he wants, and he thinks you’re adorable.”

My breath caught as these horrible words permeated the air.

“We’re allowed to act independently unless you’re coming to us with a direct order. Even then, we can say no.”

“So…” My blood was rushing in my ears. Bryce was indulging me? It was too terrible for words.

There was the other matter of etiquette I’d breached. “Then how did I trap Mr—”

Brayden gave me an expectant look, and I awkwardly changed course.

“U-Uncle Caleb?”

“He’s a spirit,” Brayden explained. “They have to go where you command them. You told him to ‘stay’.”

“I—” My shoulders slumped. That was terribly rude of me. “I didn’t mean to. I…”

Wait a minute.

My gaze shot up. “He told you what happened?”

“No.” Brayden grinned. “Bryce did—he thought it was the cutest thing. But enough of that.” He pulled another book out of his bag and laid it on the table. “If you have some time, read this. But don’t feel pressured or anything.”

He looked away. It was obvious he wanted me to read this book.

“Why?” I asked.

“It’s about fae family dynamics,” he said lightly.

My heart began to pound. “Wh-why would I need to know that?”

“Thanksgiving’s soon. Here, read this chapter,” he added, opening the book and flipping through the pages. He stopped and pointed to blurred words in fancy font.

Well, it was a blur to me. The words themselves were probably clear, but my head was beginning to feel light.

“What does that have to do with anything?” I asked. “The fae celebrate American Thanksgiving?”

“No.” Brayden’s grin wavered. “We just like to get together any chance we can. We like food. We celebrate most holidays from around the world—multiple Thanksgivings, Bastille Day, Lunar New Year, and others. Plus, there’s the full and new moons, then every weekend…”

Really now? It sounded like they just celebrated everything plus some more just so they could eat.

“Isn’t that a bit much?” I enjoyed food as much as the next person, but who could keep up with all this demand?

“Will you come to dinner?” Brayden asked, looking at the ground.

The only reason he’d be this nervous was if he was afraid of my reaction. There was only one major thing we’d disagreed on thus far.

“Will he be there?” I whispered.

It was a miracle he’d heard my low question, but he did and responded anyway. “Yes.”

I couldn’t reply. How could he bring this up again? But…

I’d promised to think about it.

I couldn’t.

My thoughts went fuzzy. I didn’t…

I was lucky with just Brayden and Bryce. I was grateful they hadn’t gotten tired of me yet.

That was all I needed.

“Did you know he doesn’t know what you look like?” Brayden said, breaking through my spiriting thoughts.

I froze, my fists in my lap as my mouth went dry.

So, it was true.

“So he doesn’t care?” My voice was small.

Just like I thought. When I’d given up. When I realized I was alone.

“He wants to meet you in person first,” Brayden continued, still not meeting my eyes. “Bryce’s phone wallpaper is a picture of you eating. He snuck it when the two of you went out once.”

Well, that was a little bit alarming.

“Dad refuses to touch it. When we found out you were alive…” Brayden said, shoulders tight.

“He’d practically given up hope. Kieran was supposed to contact us within the first week, but he vanished.

He was afraid you died, but he still set aside everything you’d need for when you came back. When we told him we’d found you…”

Brayden sucked in a breath. “Everything changed. He’s not sad anymore.

But Dad is also really dramatic. He refused to look at your picture—he says there’s no way a photograph can ‘capture your essence.’ Bryce tried to show him anyway, and he smacked his head trying to get away.

He’s going to wait until you’re ready to meet him.

“He cares,” Brayden said, voice deeper. “Even more than you can imagine.”

“I—” I swallowed. I had a pretty vivid imagination. “I’ll think about it.”

His face lit up. “That’s awesome!”

I needed time to process. I couldn’t chase those thoughts right now.

Plus, I needed to confirm, “Bryce has a picture of me?”

“Yes!” Brayden sat up straighter. “Lots!” Then he looked away. “You don’t get it.”

“Get what?” I asked.

“We adore you,” Brayden muttered, shy. “And Bryce…. I make fun of him, but he’s a good brother.”

Then his expression changed, and his demeanor became more serious.

He leaned forward. “On that note, Bryce might listen to you now, but let me make one thing clear about us both. If we believe—for even a moment—that your life is in danger or that you are walking into something you can’t come back from, we will act. Even if it means going against your wishes.”

“O-okay…” I guess that made sense.

I wasn’t sure how to feel. So much had changed these last few weeks. It wasn’t like anything I’d felt—or dared dream about—before.

It was nice… but a part of me was still waiting for it to be taken away.