And for the first time in centuries, I’m looking forward to all of it.
Chapter 31
Piper
Christmas morning in my apartment smells like cinnamon, cloves, and the faint sweetness of the spell-protected pine tree glowing in the corner. For once, the holiday doesn’t feel like a loaded gun pointed atmy head.
Slade is in the kitchen humming an old Ninth Realm winter song—quiet, low, a melody that curls along the edges of my skin like warm smoke. Newt sits on the counter beside him, acting as foreman, occasionally smacking Slade’s hand away from the mixing bowl like he’s afraid he’ll ruin breakfast.
I’m dusting powdered sugar across the cinnamon rolls when—KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!!!
“OPEN UP! IT’S CHRISTMAS, YOU HAG!” Rhea yells.
I unlock the door and she flies in wearing an emerald peacoat, amber eyes sparkling like she swallowed mischief for breakfast.
Elle appears behind her—in a red sweater dress, black leggings, and winter boots, her honey-brown hair straight and tucked behind her ear. Her lighter amber eyes brighten when she sees me.
“Pipes!” she squeals, hugging me tightly. “You look adorable.”
“You look like a holiday goddess,” I laugh.
Elle steps aside so someone behind her can enter.
A tall man with bronze-tousled hair and warm hazel eyes fills the doorway. He carries a tin wrapped in holly-patterned paper and smiles like he was born charming.
Before I can ask—another knock, smooth and deliberate.
Draven strolls in wearing a deep green coat and a scarf that looks like he bullied someone for it. Snow melts in his dark hair. His eyes flick to Rhea—and they both freeze.
She goes rigid. He goes still. The air tightens. Elle mutters behind her hand, but it’s so low I miss it.
The hazel-eyed newcomer—steps forward with a grin and extends the tin toward me. “Draven said you might appreciate some homemade fudge,” he says warmly. “I’m Caelan Athalar. Cousin to these two.”
He gestures at Slade—who has just stepped into the room—and then at Draven, who nods in greeting before returning to staring at Rhea like she’s become an unsolvable riddle.
I smile, taking the tin. “Thank you. Welcome.”
Rhea finally finds her voice—sharp, brittle. “You didn’t tell me you were bringing someone.”
Draven shrugs. “You didn’t ask.”
Elle elbows her. “Be nice.”
Caelan’s grin widens, completely unbothered. Slade crosses the room, brushing a kiss against my temple, his presence curling protectively behind me. “Cousin,” he says to Caelan. “You get dragged here willingly, or did Draven bribe you?”
“Bribed,” Caelan says. “Five minutes of peace. I haven’t seen him this tense in years.”
Rhea scoffs loudly. “I’m sure he isn’ttense.”
“Youare,” Elle whispers.
Rhea shoots her a murderous look.
Everyone spills into the living room. Presents gather under the tree like a constellation of brightpaper and ribbons. Cinnamon rolls warm the table. The entire apartment hums with magic—gentle, festive, almost content.
We settle on the couch and floor, exchanging gifts we’d bought for each other.
Slade unwraps a leather-bound cookbook from Elle—full of witch-approved, familiar recipes.
