So yes.Bestbehavior.
Music swells—a string ensemble swirling into a traditional Yule reel. Couples pull toward the dance floor. Others drift toward the hearth at the far end of the room, where the Yule log burns in a huge stone fireplace, flames tinted gold and green by Bellamy rites.
Piper squeezes my arm. “Want to join the reel?”
I look at the dancers spinning in intricate patterns designed for witches with precise footwork and impeccable balance.
“No,” I say dryly.
She grins. “Coward.”
“Accurate,” I reply.
She rewards me with a soft kiss at the corner of my mouth that almost makes me reconsider humiliating myself in front of her entire lineage.
Almost.
Instead, we join Rhea and Elle near the dining tables, where platters of roasted chestnuts, spiced meats, glazed carrots, berry-wines, and Yule cakes fill the air with warm sweetness. Rhea’s plate is stacked like a small hill. Elle’s is an artfully arranged miniature painting. Piper collects a mix of both, because she is chaos wrapped in elegance.
We talk, eat and laugh merrily as the time goes by.
I watch her move through the room like she was always meant to be at the heart of it. I watch her mother’s side of the family beam when she smiles. I watch magic circle her like a loyal, eager thing, humming softly as if it recognizes her strength now.
The bond between us pulses—not demanding, not forceful. Just present. Certain. Waiting.
I swallow against the weight of what I have in my pocket.
The ring rests against my chest beneath my jacket—a dark green stone caught between black diamonds, set in a band forged from hellforged obsidian alloy. A promise crafted by hand. By intention.
I plan to ask her during the Yule Blessing, after the log blessing is spoken and the spell of renewal is cast.
It will be perfect.
Until—“Attention!” a cheerful voice booms across the ballroom, amplified by magic.
Aunt Petunia.
Piper stiffens. Rhea mutters something unrepeatable about their mother. Elle looks like she’s witnessing a train crash she can’t stop.
Aunt Petunia stands at the front of the ballroom, cheeks rosy with wine, raising her glasshigh. “Everyone, gather round! I have wonderful news!”
The room hushes. I inhale, bracing for impact.
Petunia beams at us—the kind of smile only an overeager aunt can manage.
“I’d like to congratulate Piper,” she announces grandly, “on finally finding a man who is tall, handsome, and not a complete disaster. And Slade”—she gestures broadly with the grace of a tipsy goddess—“we are delighted to welcome you into the family!”
The ballroom erupts in applause. Piper flushes scarlet. Rhea’s eyes widen in horrified delight. Elle chokes on her wine.
And I… stand there with a ring in my pocket and every ounce of thunder stolen from me by a woman in sequins and sheer enthusiasm.
Petunia continues, unfazed. “Now, before we begin the Yule Blessing, I think it’s only right that Piper say a few words about the person she—well—clearlyloves.”
The crowd murmurs with eager anticipation. Piper’s hand tightens in mine. She looks up at me—not nervous, not overwhelmed.
Sure. Certain. Ready.
And something inside my chest loosens under the weight of her choice.
