The Everroot Grove was beautiful. That was all she could say, repeating it over and over in a breathy whisper, unable to blink for fear of missing it. Like seeing The Tree again and again, each stood more perfectly than the last. Even the snow was different, more powdery, more glittering, and there was that feeling, the one she got every year at exactly the right time, the brief, magical spark that gave her hope—it was everywhere.
And then so was snow. It fell gently at first, delicate and white as it landed on the fehszar’s coat and Piper’s gloves, but then it came harder and faster, and a whipping wind blew it into their faces.
“Oh, of course,” Kol grumbled, arms coming around her as he leaned forward. “The cabin’s not too much farther ahead.”
It probably was short, but it felt much longer, and by the time they made it to the small building, Piper’s eyelashes were crusty, and her whole body shivered uncontrollably. The fehszar had a safe stable beside to hole herself up in, and the two shut themselves up in the cabin, closing out the cold and the worst of what was quickly becoming a blizzard.
It was dark inside as wind howled over the creaking roof, but Piper could still make out the wooden walls, rich and dark, and the whole place smelled of the earth. One corner was built out into a little bathroom, and another was a stone hearth, a table stretching between beneath a curtained window, but the majority of the cabin was meant for sleeping, a huge, fluffy space up against the far wall piled with blankets and pillows.
“Whoa, this can sleep like four people,” she said, wiping frost from her face as she inspected the massive mattress.
“Yeah, I imagine most of the elves who come here do that,” Kol mumbled, unpacking his bag on the table. “Don’t think about that too much though—we’re probably going to be stuck here all night.”
Piper’s brows shot up. That didn’t sound bad at all.
Kol fussed around with his things, grumbling, and Piper’s shoulders drooped. Maybe it actually was bad.
She silently watched him from the corner as he moved around the space, running fingers along grooves in the walls and magically calling up a fire in the hearth and water from a faucet into a kettle. He did everything with ease and grace, switching on lights with the flick of his wrist and lining up the provisions he’d so thoughtfully packed, but he looked fairly unhappy as he did it, and all she could think about was how he’d told her she didn’t belong out in the grove.
Piper rubbed her arms, keeping to the corner. The cabin was run by magic, and she couldn’t help with a single thing. No, she didn’t belong here, not in this place full of wonder and danger too, but she had insisted, and now he was responsible for them both.
“Kol?” she finally gathered the courage to say. “I’m sorry.”
He turned slowly, brows furrowed. “For what?”
“Everything.” She swallowed. “For not letting you have the tree in the first place. And for forcing you into this deal. For making you take me out here where I don’t belong. For being a burden.”
“Piper, I’m the one who should be apologizing. It’s freezing and dangerous out here, and I took you away from your familyat Christmas.” He raked a hand over his head, pulling off his hat, and his hair fell loose. “You deserve to be at home with them where it’s safe, not stuck out here with me eating…this.” He sighed, holding up a bowl of prepackaged noodles, the lid torn back and steaming from the hot water he’d poured in.
“You made dinner?”
He handed it off reluctantly. “It’s not homemade lasagna or chicken cacciatore, but it’s hot.”
She took it and grinned, its warmth already defrosting her hands. “I can’t think of anything I could want more.”
If she didn’t know better, she would have thought Kol blushed at that, but he turned away too quickly to grab a second bowl of noodles for himself. They settled on the floor of the cabin and ate, and soon enough Piper felt as warm as chestnuts on an open fire. Outside, the evening creaked and howled, but there was a stillness within the walls. Nothing could be asked of her there, nothing except what Kol might want, and she watched him take every bite, waiting for him to make some request of her—to ask for anything.
But he didn’t. He just told her he was glad she’d been so persistent about buying all that junk at the grocery store because that made up half of the pack he’d brought. And then he explained how the sigils in the walls worked, and how the cabin was old but sturdy, and he gave her long looks that devolved into charming grins that made her feel like maybe it was okay that a human had come out to the grove after all.
“These are the seejia buds,” he told her when their styrofoam cups were drained. He plucked two dried bundles from the ceiling and put them in his bag. “They only bloom under the full moon in the spring, so they’re potent stuff. They should pep the tree up long enough to make it, hopefully until the twenty-sixth, but they’re a band-aid, not a cure.” There was a small package that had been sitting on the table, and he picked that up too, slipping it into his bag.
“What’s that?”
“From my mother.” He cleared his throat. “These are the ingredients I need to sever you from the tree.”
“Oh.” Piper’s chest sank at the thought. It would be a relief to know the spruce was safe, but that also meant their deal would be over. “Kol, I have a question.”
“Ask away,” he said, leaning back against the table.
“How…um, how far are we from home out here?”
“Oh, well?” He scrunched his face up in thought. “Liminal spaces aren’t really anywhere, so we’re not just far, we’re basically outside of space and time in regard to your house.”
She gazed up at him as innocently as she could from the cabin’s floor. “So, would you say we’re out of range of the tree’s connection to me?”
Kol’s eyes went dark, and his charming grin turned wicked.
25
