I swallowed, clutching my small bundle. Wrapped in plain cloth, tied with twine—a single shell from Thalassia, pearlescent as trapped starlight. The last piece of home I had left. I knelt by the largest pin in the hall and placed it beneath the branches. It seemed insignificant in comparison to the rest.
I made my way back to the table at the edge of the room where I'd been standing. I took in the sight unfolding before me. Children tore open bundles of carved toys, shrieking with delight. Warriors lifted blades or tools high, testing their weight with approving grins. Women laughed as they traded furs and jewelry, slipping them on immediately. Everywhere, there was warmth. Laughter. Gratitude.
A warmth bloomed in my chest, soft and steady, until it spread through every corner of me.
For a fleeting moment, nothing else mattered. Not Alaric. Not Thalassia. Here, wrapped in firelight and song, I felt something I had never known before.
“Enjoying yourself?”
Veyrion stood beside me, red cloak falling from his shoulders, firelight gilding his hair.
“I am,” I admitted.
He pulled a neatly wrapped bundle from behind his back and placed it in my lap. “For you.”
I stared at it, frozen. My fingers twitched but didn’t move.Why would he give me something?Suspicion tangled with unease, with the strange warmth still curling low in my chest.
When I hesitated, Veyrion leaned closer, his voice a low rumble only I could hear. “Open it.”
My hands moved before I could think, tugging at the knot, fumbling as the cloth fell away.
Heat flooded my face, part shame, part something else entirely. Inside lay a small axe and shield—exquisitely crafted, unmistakable. The day we went to the blacksmith, this was the small bundle he picked up.
My chest tightened. The gift was thoughtful, weighty… far more than I deserved or expected from him. And I had nothing to give in return.
“I… I didn’t—” The words stuck in my throat. “I don’t have anything for you.”
My eyes darted to the small bundle I had placed beneath the tree. My seashell. The last piece of Thalassia I had carried with me. It felt pitiful now, fragile beside the steel in my hands.
With trembling hands, I retrieved it. A piece of my past. A piece of me. I pressed it into his palm. “It’s all I have.” I whispered.
Veyrion took it without hesitation, his fingers brushing mine. He didn’t tear the cloth away but unwrapped it carefully, as though he already knew it was fragile.
He stilled, the grin slipped. He stared at the shell, surprise breaking across his face—real, unguarded. Then his fingers closed around it with a gentleness that seemed out of character.
“This,” he said quietly, “is more than enough.”
The music grew wilder. Eira tugged me into the chaos with a wicked grin. “Come on!”
I laughed helplessly as she spun me, both of us clumsy with drink. We stumbled and whirled, bumping into warriors twice our size, who only laughed and danced with us back into the fray. My cheeks ached from smiling, my ribs from laughter.
“So,” Eira shouted over the music, gripping my hand as we swayed. “Who did you give your gift to?”
My face burned hotter than the mead. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Oh, itmatters,” she crowed, spinning me until the room tilted.
I shook my head, clutching her for balance as the floor swam.
Eira blinked, eyes widening as they darted to the weapons at our table, “Gods, Nerina, the axe and shield look like they were made for you.”
A pang cut through me—maybe they had been. But I bit it back. “It was just a gift,” I said quickly.
Her grin turned sly, hair plastered to her flushed face. “Then who did you giveyoursto?”
Before I could answer, a shadow fell across us.
“Me,” Veyrion said smoothly.
