Without replying, the girl ran for the pile of lace-bound packages piled high by the marble hearth, diving right for the largest parcel with her name attached. Adeline laughed, settling down beside her on the deep, thick rug.
“Not so fast, you little rogue.”
She took the parcel from Iseult, pressing a smaller, heavier package into her twitching hands. Behind them, Mareda gave a delicate wince as the lace wrapping gave way under Iseult’s tiny claws.
“Here,” said Adeline, fishing another small parcel from the pile. She shuffled across the rug and held the gift up to Mareda where she sat in her usual spot on the vast settee, one ankle tucked neatly behind the other. Ever poised and perfect, even here amongst her closest family; ever the Heir-in-training. “Show her how it’s done.”
Raising a pale brow, Mareda took the parcel and carefully unravelled the ribbon, letting the pretty lace packaging fall open. A beat. Confusion and hope chased across Mareda’s lovely face before her hand flew to her mouth, quick to contain whatever sudden swell of excitement had made it to the surface. Adeline’s heart tightened a bit at the learned behaviour, the suppression of that very human response – butthere; a smile curved her sister’s rosy lips, ever so slightly.
“Gloves, Ade?”
She touched them tenderly, rolling the fine fabric between her fingers.
“To wear to your Coronation some day.”
Mareda’s head snapped up, her clear blue eyes shining. For a moment she was speechless, moved to silence. She reached for Adeline’s hand, but before she could speak, Iseult barrelled into them with a squeal, ducking under their outstretched arms.
“It’s magic!Realmagic!”
She clutched the ageing tome of fairytales to her chest, practically levitating with joy. Adeline pressed a shower of kisses to her copper curls. Her heart was glowing in her chest. This was how every New Winter should begin.Thiswas why she was here instead of down there, lost in a sea of dancing bodies under the soft flurry of snow.
To see her sisters alight with joy. To set off her eagerly awaited twenty-second Winter on the right foot.
“Real magic,” she confirmed.
She’d found the enchanted book at the Lake Laune Market, at one of the few stalls that didn’t peddle ice charms to wide-eyed tourists. The travelling Merchant claimed to have found the book at an old museum in Caldbon; one of many treasures stolen from the Silver Kingdom several hundred years ago, when it had rested under Caldbon’s thumb. Adeline wasn’t sure he’d procured the book by strictly legal means, but she’d paid the Merchant with no questions asked and gladly taken it home.
Mareda leaned over, her careful poise forgotten as Iseult opened the book and thrust it under her eldest sister’s nose.
“They’re fairytales, Marry,” said Iseult, “but the pictures fill in as you read!”
Mareda actually allowed Iseult to tug her to the floor, sliding down to perch beside them on the rug and turning the pages in wonder.
“Not only that,” said Adeline. She paused for effect, gently tapping the very tip of her baby sister’s nose, still pink with the winter chill. “The illustrations are different for every reader. Taken from your own imagination and painted on the page as you read.”
Iseult raised a hand to her brow and fell back into Mareda’s lap, pretending she’d fainted from sheer delight. Marry only smiled wryly at Adeline, stroking her littlest sister’s curls back from her forehead.
“And how am I to follow such a gift?”
Iseult remained in her dramatic pose, only peeking one eye open to say; “You could always get me a kitten.”
???
The book told stories of Eisalaan before the Frost. Old tales of rolling green lands, of a lyrical time when lore was as good as fact. Stories of sentient forests, and monsters guarding treasures of the Goddess, long forgotten by humankind.
The hour was so late that Adeline’s eyes were drying out in her skull, and it seemed increasingly unlikely that she’d make it home to the city tonight; she’d have to sleep in her old rooms and wake up here, in her old home.
Especially when Iseult refused to go to bed until they promised to read her at least one story. This time, Mareda didn’t fuss when Adeline gave in to their little sister’s whims. They took Iseult to her rooms and coaxed her into bed, settling down on either side of her.
“You read, Marry,” said Iseult. “You have the loveliest voice.”
Adeline clutched her chest in mock outrage, but Iseult only grinned and snuggled in against her shoulder.
Mareda set the book on her lap, and opened it up, clearing her throat with a gentle hum.
“The First Frost,” she began.
“Once upon a distant time, Eisalaan was lush and green and the Laune teemed with a magic-blooded race we called the Merrow. One very dry summer, a handsome Merrow Prince left his home in the lake to pay a visit to the palace on land.
