Never After

They spent Christmas Eve up at the big house, which was apparently a tradition of long standing.

Micha, unwilling to trespass, had evinced reluctance, but Thomas had given him the irresistible look and said “please,” and, truthfully, Micha desperately wanted to be there—part of something, even if it was only pretence.

Of course, he had been warmly welcomed. And it had all been lovely, or perhaps that was the mulled wine talking.

But it was an evening Micha would never forget: the laughter ringing through the marble halls, and the golden glow that spilled like pirate treasure from the ornate fireplaces.