She grinned, wings a blur of motion. "Look at you, with the decorator's eye."
I smiled up at her. "It's our first party and I want it perfect."
The garland unfurled from her hands with surprising grace, curling exactly where she directed it. When she brushed her fingers along its length, it emitted a soft chime and released a shower of silver sparkles that evaporated before hitting the tables below. Magic that existed purely for delight, not necessity. Something I would have considered frivolous a week ago.
Across the room, Silas had arranged trays of his specialty gingerbread men, not the cute, harmless kind, but tiny cookiemonsters with surprisingly sharp teeth and expressive frosting faces. As I approached, one snapped at my finger.
"Rude," I told it, and it seemed to grin wider.
"They only respect strength," Silas explained, flicking the cookie's head with one black-painted nail. The gingerbread man immediately fell in line. "Like most men."
I laughed. "They're perfect. Just make sure the sign is clear about dunking them in hot chocolate before eating. I don't need another incident like the singing cupcakes."
Silas shuddered dramatically. "Those brats deserved what they got. Who tries to eat something that's actively performing a Broadway number?" He adjusted his signature black apron, the fishnet sleeves underneath catching the light. "Besides, it's not a proper supernatural café if something doesn't try to bite you back."
I moved on to the tables, arranging mismatched velvet cloths in deep emerald, sapphire, and amethyst across the surfaces. Each centerpiece featured Bramble's greenhouse creations, black roses dusted with silver, moon lilies that opened and closed with passing shadows, and strange spiky blooms that occasionally whispered compliments to whoever leaned close enough to hear.
The transformation was stunning. Warm light pooled from lanterns that floated just below the ceiling, their glow shifting subtly with the mood of the room. The usual chairs had been replaced with plush seats in jewel tones, and the bar sparkled with tiny bottles of magical mix-ins for the evening's drinks—"Liquid Courage" that actually granted temporary bravery, "Starlight Whispers" that made your words shimmer in the air, "Memory Mint" that briefly let you relive your happiest moment while sipping.
Krampus occupied the corner booth, he'd dressed for the occasion, dark velvet that matched the richness of my dress butin midnight black, embroidered with silver patterns that seemed to move when I wasn't looking directly at them. His horns gleamed in the soft light, and his golden eyes—
His eyes never left me.
I held his gaze across the room, remembering his claws on my skin, his voice in my ear, his promise that we belonged to each other. His lips curved into the barest hint of a smile, knowing exactly what effect he had on me.
"If you two start eye-fucking any harder, I’m going to gag," Silas stage-whispered as he passed behind me with a tray of spiced cider. "Save it for after the announcement, boss lady."
I tore my eyes away, focusing on straightening a centerpiece that was already perfect. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Uh-huh." Silas rolled his eyes so hard I worried they might get stuck.
I stepped back to survey the café, my café, at least for now, until tonight's big announcement that would make it official. The space had never looked more beautiful, more welcoming, more like home. But the real difference wasn't in the decorations or the lights or even the special menu items Silas and I had spent hours perfecting. The difference was me. For the first time since childhood, I wasn't running on frantic energy, desperate to please everyone, terrified that one mistake would bring everything crashing down. Instead, I moved through my domain with certainty. With joy and the knowledge that I belonged here not because I'd earned it through perfect service, but because this place was an extension of who I truly was. I caught Krampus's eye once more and smiled. His answering look promised that the evening was just beginning.
The café door jingled incessantly as guests began to arrive, I stood near the counter greeting familiar faces. The first to approach me was Mrs. Keening, the banshee mom whosetoddler had almost shattered every mug in the café with a single tantrum-induced wail. Today, the little star clung to her hand quietly, enormous silver eyes taking in the decorations with wonder.
"Miss Simone!" Mrs. Keening's voice carried the musical lilt all banshees had. "We've brought you something special."
The toddler stepped forward, extending a stack of cards with chubby hands. The papers were covered in what looked like multicolored scribbles, but when I accepted them, the marks began to move, forming into simple pictures of the café, with a pink figure behind the counter. Me.
"She made one every day this week," Mrs. Keening explained. "Ever since you helped her learn to control her voice with that special tea."
I knelt to the toddler's level. "They're beautiful. Thank you so much."
The child beamed and whispered—actually whispered instead of screeching—"You make the best hot chocolate in the universe."
My throat tightened unexpectedly. "Well, you're my favorite artist in the universe."
The little banshee giggled and darted off toward the cookie display, where Silas was already eyeing her warily. I straightened just as the door chimed again, this time admitting a figure who seemed to float rather than walk.
Queen Amaryllis of the Winter Court, her chiffon robes billowing around her despite the absence of wind. I'd only seen her twice before, once when she'd come to broker peace with the Summer fae over our blueberry scones, and again when she'd stopped in during a snowstorm for a pot of moonflower tea.
"Café Keeper," she greeted, her voice like icicles chiming together. "Your establishment honors us with its warmth."
I bobbed something between a curtsy and a nod, never quite sure of the protocol with fae royalty. "We're honored by your presence, Your Majesty."
She extended slender fingers, revealing a sphere that appeared to be made of captured moonlight. It pulsed gently, its glow shifting between silver and soft blue. "A token of the Court's appreciation. Place it near your workspace, and it will calm the energies around you when chaos threatens to overwhelm."
An anti-anxiety orb. For me. From the queen of the fae who was rumored to have turned a duke into a toadstool for serving her tea at the wrong temperature.
