Her phone buzzed in her pocket.
Automatically, she pulled it out, expecting a message from Julia or Patel about the power situation. Or maybe Alex, checking in.
Instead, the notification banner at the top of the screen showed the security ops group chat. The one that only lit up when something was properly… interesting.
She thumbed it open, a prickle of residual adrenaline sparking in her chest.
The latest message was from Lewis, the lead on external logistics.
There’s… an issue with the reindeer delivery.
Erin stared at the words for a long, incredulous second.
Of course there is, she thought.
Of course there bloody is.
7
VIC
In Vic’s professional opinion, the universe was mocking her personally.
She had just finished rewriting the entire afternoon section of the schedule—crossing out “Final Tree Decorating (Power On Version)” and replacing it with “Emergency Candlelit Tree Triage”—when Lewis appeared in the doorway of the little study she’d commandeered.
“Ms. Grey-Hughes- Wilding?” he said.
She looked up, already bracing. Lewis never used her surname unless something had gone wrong.
“What now?” she asked. “Has the snow unionised? Is the Wi-Fi on strike? Has Mrs. MacLeod declared independence and seized the kitchens?”
“Reindeer,” he said.
Vic sat up straighter. “My reindeer?”
“I don’t know if you’ve formed a personal bond,” Lewis said carefully, “but yes. Those reindeer. They’re here.”
She blinked. Then checked the clock on the mantelpiece. “They’re not supposed to be here for another forty minutes.”
“They’re early,” Lewis said. “Apparently the driver was worried about the roads worsening, so they set off ahead of schedule. They’re in the outer courtyard now.”
Relief and delight surged through her, punching straight through the anxiety fog. Early was good. Early she could work with. Early meant they’d beaten the snow. Early meant her miracle animal centrepiece was real, not just a line in a document.
“Okay,” she said, already rising, grabbing her clipboard like a general seizing her sword. “Great. This is great. Phase One is a go. Have we got the handlers with them?”
“Yes,” Lewis said. “Two of them. They’ve asked if they can get them settled as quickly as possible, because visibility’s dropping.”
“Perfect,” Vic said, powering past him into the corridor. “I’ll meet them. We’ll get them into position, do a final run-through, check the antler situation?—”
“The what?” Lewis asked, falling into step behind her.
“Symmetry,” Vic said. “You can’t have one reindeer with majestic Hollywood antlers and two with tiny apologetic ones. It ruins the aesthetic.”
“You’re… aware they’re living animals, right?” Lewis said.
“Yes,” Vic said. “I’m not asking them to grow more antler on command. I’m just… managing expectations.”
She strode down the corridor, boots squeaking slightly on the polished floor. The castle felt different today—charged, like static. The snow outside was a constant presence, pressing up against the windows, blurring the edges of the world. After the power flicker and the mattress disaster and the news about the caterers, Vic felt held together more by stubbornness than anything else.
