My mouth opened and closed like a malfunctioning nutcracker. What was I even supposed to say to that—thanks, I guess I’m less destructive now, or don’t jinx it, I could still level this place?
“Frostwillow speaks the truth.” Dad squeezed my shoulder.
A few elves nodded sagely, though I noticed others remained skeptical, whispers passing between them like currents of cold air. I couldn’t blame them. Last time I’d been here, I’d apparently created the North Pole equivalent of a category-five hurricane.
The crowd parted like a shimmering sea, and my mom glided through, radiating composure. Her smile carried warmth that could melt permafrost.
“I see you’ve started the tour without me.” My mom kissedmy dad’s cheek and then looped her arm through mine. “Chris, the scheduling committee needs you for the Southern Hemisphere adjustments… again.”
My dad’s eyes lingered on us both with affection before he nodded and turned to address the workshop. The elves immediately resumed their activities, the momentary celebrity sighting forgotten in favor of whatever Christmas magic they were cooking up.
Mom guided me through a series of increasingly complex hallways until we emerged into an open courtyard.
“This is your training arena.” She gestured to the space with a graceful sweep of her arm. “Perfect for containing... enthusiastic magic.”
I narrowed my eyes. “You mean it’s Neve-proof in case I go nuclear again.”
“I prefer to think of it as a space where you can fully express yourself.” Her lips quirked upward.
The courtyard sparkled, untouched snow covering every surface except a circular area in the center where the ground was bare stone etched with symbols I couldn’t decipher.
“Let me explain something about your heritage.” Mom positioned herself across from me in the circle. “Your magic is unique. My magic is precise. It shapes, whispers, and guides.” She demonstrated by drawing her fingers through the air, leaving a trail of silver light that formed into a perfect snowflake. “Your father’s magic is wild, abundant, and transformative.”
“So, I’m basically the holiday version of a mood swing?”
Mom’s laughter echoed in the space. “More like having both a scalpel and a sledgehammer at your disposal. Today we’ll work on finesse.”
For the next hour, my mom guided me through exercises that made me feel like a magical kindergartener. Apparently, step one was breathing on command, step two was pretending my fingers were glow sticks, and step three was making a mental Pinterest board before letting the magic loose.
I tried creating a simple ball of light, which was a beginnerelf trick. Instead, I got a blinding flash that sent snow exploding upward in a fifteen-foot radius.
Next came ice shaping. My dainty little snow sculpture idea resulted in an icicle spear impaling itself six inches into the ground.
I attempted to summon a gentle flurry, but I ended up encased to my knees in rapidly forming frost.
“Shit.” I struggled to free my legs, panic rising. “Mom, I can’t stop it!”
“Breathe, Neve.” She didn’t rush to help me, instead holding my gaze steadily. “Feel the connection between your emotions and your magic. They’re not separate entities; they’re extensions of each other.”
I closed my eyes, forcing air into my lungs. The frost crept higher, reaching my thighs.
“Remember who you are.” Her voice remained calm. “The North Pole recognizes who it’s gifted magic to. You belong here and are deserving of this magic.”
The pressure in my chest eased slightly, and the frost stopped advancing.
“Now recall a moment of pure joy.” Mom circled me slowly. “Not happiness, but joy. The kind that fills every corner of your being.”
My mind flashed to the nine men who’d become my unlikely guardians, and the frost began to recede.
“Perfect.” Mom’s approval warmed me further. “Now reshape it. You’re not destroying your magic; you’re redirecting it.”
I imagined the frost transforming, becoming something beautiful rather than threatening. Slowly, the ice coating my legs thinned, then reshaped itself into patterns that spiraled outward across the stone circle.
Mom clapped her hands. “Exquisite! My magic steadied after I bonded with your father. The emotional connection anchors the chaos and channels it purposefully.” She winked. “The physical aspects certainly don’t hurt either.”
“Mom!” I slapped my hands over my ears. “I do not need to hear about you and Dad getting it on to control magic!”
“Oh please, you’re nearly thirty with nine mates. I think we’re past blushing about intimacy.” She waved dismissively. “The point is, your connections with those men are already strengthening your control. That’s how you controlled it, right? You thought of them?”
