“You’re doing it wrong.”
She jumped, almost dropping the lights. Goraath stood in the doorway, filling it. He’d showered—his dark hair was damp, pulled back in that leather tie, and he’d changed into clean work clothes that did nothing to hide the breadth of his shoulders.
“I’ve strung lights before.” She lifted her chin, defensive. “Many times.”
“Not those lights.” He moved into the room and she had to work not to step back. After earlier, being in the same space felt dangerous. “The crystals are photosensitive. You hang them backwards, they won’t charge properly.”
He took the string from her hands, their fingers brushing. Heat raced across her skin. His hands dwarfed hers, all scarred knuckles and careful competence as he showed her how each crystal had a flat side that needed to face the windows.
“Oh.” Her voice was breathier than intended. “Okay, that makes sense.”
He grunted and started hanging them without being asked. Just reached up and began securing them along the beam that ran the length of the room. No chair needed. The man was so tall he could reach things she’d need a ladder for.
“What are these?” She asked, pulling a plant from the box, the leaves rustling. They smelled faintly of something she couldn’t name—crisp and clean like a winter morning.
“Skeel’via.” He looked over his shoulder as he secured another section of lights. “Winter herbs. We use them during Midwinter. They represent new beginnings.”
“New beginnings.” She turned the branch over, watching silver catch the afternoon light streaming through the windows. “I like that. How do you use them?”
“Wreaths, mostly. Hung on doors to invite fresh starts.” He glanced at her, his eyes unreadable. “You braid them with nil’taari vine. The red ones there.”
She looked where he pointed and found coils of deep red vine she’d thought was ribbon. “Show me?”
For a moment she thought he’d retreat back into his gruff distance. Then he crossed to her, took the silver branch and red vine, and demonstrated with those big hands.
“Look… Twist, wrap, secure.” They were simple movements that created something beautiful. He held it out to her. “Your turn.”
She tried to copy him but her fingers fumbled and the vine slipped. He moved behind her, his chest almost touching her back, and reached around to guide her hands.
“Like this.” His voice rumbled near her ear. “Firm but gentle. Too tight and you’ll break the leaves.”
His breath stirred her hair. This close, she could smell him… soap and that warm earthy scent that was pure Goraath. Her concentration shattered.
Somehow she managed to finish the small wreath, hyperaware of every point where their bodies almost touched. When she turned to show him, proud of her work, she found him watching her with a warm expression that made her stomach flip.
“Good.” The word came out rough. He stepped back, putting distance between them. “Hang it there, by the window.”
They worked together after that. Him hanging lights, her creating wreaths and arranging the silver plants. Every so often their paths crossed… as they reached for the same ornament, or passed each other in the small space. Each near-miss sent more tingles over her skin and charged the air between them.
“On Earth,” she said, needing something to fill the loaded silence, “we’d put up a tree. An evergreen, brought inside and decorated.”
“Seems wasteful. Killing a tree for decoration.”
“Yeah. Well, it would be if they were real trees but only the rich people can afford those now. Most people use artificial ones.”
“But why?” He looked skeptical. “Trees belong outside, not inside.”
She shrugged. “I read a book on it once. Originally it was about bringing life inside during the darkest time of year. Proving that green things still existed even in the depths of winter.”
He paused in his work, considering. “We have the eternal flame.”
“The what?”
He nodded toward the big fireplace that dominated the middle of the wall in the main room. “During Midwinter, we set a fire that burns through the festival. We feed it with woods that represent what we want to release and what we want to invite. It never goes out, no matter the wind or snow.” He hung another section of lights. “The colony will have a large one in the square, but families also keep their own.”
“That’s beautiful. Maybe we could—” She caught herself. “I mean, if you wanted, we could do both? Have a fire with your traditional woods and also the decorations?”
He looked at her for a long moment. She held her breath, waiting.
