The Gift

Chapter Twenty

 “Freyla,” Brandon shook my shoulder.  “Wake up.”

“Go away.” I pushed at him.

“She won’t get up,” I heard him say to someone.

“Freyla,” Daniel knelt by the couch I was laying on.  “It’s time to get up.”

“I don’t want to,” I mumbled.

“Dinner is ready.  You know if you don’t come now there won’t be any left.  I cooked.”

“I know. But I still don’t want to get up.”

“You can go back to sleep after we eat.  I know you’re hungry.”

“I thought I was the psychic.”  I opened my eyes to look at him, and then nearly laughed at the sight of him wearing an apron.  I extended my arms to him for him to help me up.

“Well, you can’t make sure I eat if you’re not with us at meals.  You need to eat, too.”

“Now you sound like Jeremiah.  I wasn’t eating much and he made me eat.”

“That sounds more like you than me.”

“She’s alive!” one of the men shouted as we entered.

“Shut up,” I told him amicably.  I took my seat at the table and Daniel sat next to me.  Seth brought another pot out of the kitchen than had some sort of sauce in it.  I smelt something familiar, but couldn’t quite place it.

Seth set the sauce on the table, in front of Samuel, who was also next to me.  He took his seat opposite us.

As all the men started piling food on their plates, I stared at the sauce.  As Daniel started to put some on his plate, I recognized the scent.  Jumping up, I knocked the serving spoon out of his hand and pushed the pot of sauce off the table.

“Freyla            !” he exclaimed.

“Hey, I worked hard on that,” Stephen complained.

“Don’t eat that sauce,” I said.  “Did anybody else get sauce?” I looked around.  Luckily, Daniel had been the first.

“Why not?” he asked.

“Because there’s a poison in it.  Don’t touch it.  I’ll be right back.”  I ran up the stairs to my bedroom and got my bag.

“I only have one poison that has any kind of detectable scent without my enhanced senses.”  I pulled out the vial of poison from my bag and handed it to Daniel.  He uncorked it and smelled it.

“It smells good,” he commented, handing it back.

“That’s how I designed it.  It’s designed to be put into food, nearly undetectable and tastes and smells good.  It’s in the sauce.”

“How do you know?” Seth asked.

“Heightened senses,” I said.

“You’ve been hiding something from us this whole time, haven’t you?” he asked, standing up.  “You’re not just Freyla, are you?”

“No.  I’m not just Freyla.  I’m Freyla the Seeress.  I’m actually surprised nobody figured it out.”

“I knew it,” Samuel exclaimed, jumping up.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Mark asked.

“Because I didn’t want people to know.  That’s also part of why I left.”

“The assassins were targeting you,” Dylan said.  “Not because you’re just good, but because you’re the Seeress.”

“Lord Victor of the Eighth Isle sent them after me.  He was trying to test me.  He had a spy among us.”