Chapter 34
Nice Rack
The snow crunched under my boots as we approached the clearing. The stables stood behind us, their silhouettes silent witnesses to what was about to unfold. Silven waited in the center of the clearing, flanked by two stoic elves.
He looked smaller somehow. The fierce, menacing presence that I remembered had diminished, his shoulders hunched against the cold, or maybe against the weight of his actions. His gaze remained fixed on the ground as we approached.
My dad stepped forward, his imposing figure casting a long shadow across the snow. “Silven.”
Silven’s head lifted slightly. “Santa.”
Rudy tensed beside me, his breath coming out in a controlled exhale. His emotions were churning with anger, hurt, and beneath it all, a festering wound that had never healed.
“You have served as my advisor for decades.” My dad’s voice held none of its usual warmth, which made me sad for him. “I trusted you with the training of our reindeer and with the safety of my daughter.”
Silven’s jaw clenched. “Everything I did was necessary. The North Pole needs—”
I cut in, stepping forward as ice crystals spread across my fingers. “What the North Pole needs is support, not cruelty disguised as training.”
“You know nothing of magic, girl.” Silven’s gaze finally landed on me, sharp and dismissive.
“You nearly destroyed us both.” My voice shook with fury as sparks of blue danced around my hands. I was completely in control of it now and wouldn’t be sending any snow monsters after him. “You told me I was a mistake, and you made your own son believe he was broken.”
Maybe one little snow shark would be fine.
The snow beneath my feet began to shift and swirl, responding to the storm building inside me. My mom’s gentle touch at my elbow calmed me.
“I did what needed to be done.” Silven straightened his spine, attempting to reclaim some dignity. “Strict training builds character. Flouncing around the North Pole making snow butterflies and—”
“Enough.” Dad’s voice cracked like ice breaking. “Neve told me about all the things you’ve said to her over the years, and I’m sure it’s just the tip of the iceberg.”
The clearing went quiet, and Silven flinched, his eyes darting to my dad’s face. There was a slight tremor in his fingers, and it gave me a tiny spark of vindictive pleasure that I wasn’t entirely proud of, but I wasn’t about to apologize for either.
“You once flew at the head of my sleigh.” Dad’s disappointment hung heavy in the air. “How could you betray that trust?”
Something flickered across Silven’s face, a small fracture in his composure that surprised me. Dad’s disappointment seemed to cut deeper than any threat could have.
“We’ve reached a decision regarding your punishment.” Dad squared his shoulders, every inch the Santa Claus the world believed in. “You will be exiled to Klarhaven, stripped of all authority and status at the North Pole. You will have no contact with young reindeer and no position of influence.”
Silven’s face drained of color, and for a fleeting moment, I almost felt sorry for him. Almost. The same way you might feel a twinge of sympathy when someone who’s been horrible gets exactly what they deserve.
But then his mask was back in place, and he looked at Rudy, sneering with bitterness before his attention turned to me.
“Your power will consume you like it did before. You aren’t built to contain it, just as he…” He jerked his chin toward Rudy. “Isn’t built to lead.”
Rudy stepped forward, his body vibrating with tension. “If you ever come near her again, if you ever try to manipulate any member of my herd, we will make Klarhaven feel like paradise compared to what follows.”
The guards moved forward, preparing to escort Silven away.
“Klarhaven’s about to get its very own Grinch.” I folded my arms across my chest, watching Silven’s face twist with rage at my flippancy. “Hopefully, someone will knit you a heart.”
The escort led Silven away, his back rigid with defiance. My mom, who had been silent throughout the whole confrontation, stepped forward.
A wave of shimmering silver magic burst from her hand, striking Silven squarely between the shoulder blades. He stumbled, gasping as his form rippled and shifted. Before our eyes, enormous antlers sprouted from his head, magnificent and gleaming in the winter light.
My jaw dropped.
Silven turned, his eyes wide with shock and something like hope.
Mom’s face had transformed. The gentle, smiling woman was replaced by something ancient and fierce—a mother protecting her young.
“There is no greater punishment than getting back what you’ve yearned for, only to find it useless.
” Her voice had a steely edge that sent shivers down my spine.
“Your antlers have returned, but they will never lift you from the ground the way you desire. You will never fly with another herd or lead a sleigh again. Especially not a sleigh flown by a Claus.”
Silven’s eyes reflected pure anguish.
“Enjoy your time in Klarhaven.” Mom stepped back next to my dad, her silver hair lifting slightly in a wind that seemed to touch only her. “Perhaps one day you’ll realize how wrong you’ve been about leadership and strength, and about what truly matters.”
The elves resumed their escort, leading a stunned Silven away. His new antlers caught the light as he disappeared into the trees, leaving nothing but hoofprints in the snow.
Dad stared at Mom with a mixture of awe and admiration. “Glim...”
“No one hurts my family.” Mom smoothed down her cloak, the fierce goddess fading back into my cheerful mother before my eyes. “Now, shall we go back inside? I believe we have an antler competition to prepare for.”
Rudy’s hand found mine, squeezing gently as we followed my parents back toward the castle.
“Are you okay?” I whispered, feeling the tremors of emotion running through him.
His eyes met mine, stormy but clear. “For the first time in a long time... I think I might be.”
I sat in the center chair at the judges’ table, still not believing they’d been serious about having an antler competition. The grand hall had been transformed into what I could only describe as a pageant arena, complete with a runway, spotlights, and a panel of judges that now included me.
“And next, we have Bruce!”
A heavily muscled reindeer with a dappled coat pranced down the runway. The crowd went wild as he shook his massive rack adorned with what appeared to be an entire winter village, complete with a miniature train that chugged around the circumference of his left antler.
I leaned toward Tinsel, the elf judge to my right. “Is that an actual working model train?”
Tinsel didn’t take her eyes off the spectacle. Her pencil scratched furiously across her scorecard. “Bruce is known for his mechanical innovations. Last year, he had a gondola system that carried tiny hand-carved elves between antler points.”
“Of course he did.” I sipped from my hot chocolate, which someone had helpfully spiked with peppermint schnapps. Three drinks in, and the absurdity had become genuinely entertaining rather than mortifying.
My dad sat in the front row next to my mom, looking more animated than I’d seen him since arriving at the North Pole.
Color had returned to his cheeks, and his hearty laugh boomed across the hall as Bruce showed how the tiny inhabitants of his antler village popped out of their houses when he tilted his head a certain way.
My herd occupied the row behind Dad, having been eliminated in the first and second rounds.
“Now for our next contestant, Don!”
My mouth fell open as Don strutted onto the runway in reindeer form. His massive body gleamed under the spotlight, his coat brushed to a shine. But it was his antlers that left me speechless. He’d transformed them into a living winter wonderland that put Bruce’s mechanical marvel to shame.
Each point was wrapped in thin silver wire holding tiny crystal snowflakes that caught the light, creating a constellation of stars above his head. Frozen icicles that somehow didn’t melt hung strategically, and snow fell from certain points. How the hell had he managed that?
“A five on overall aesthetic impact,” Tinsel whispered appreciatively beside me.
The Arctic fox shifter judge, Frost, rubbed his chin. “The snow and ice elements are a creative and ambitious touch.”
“The anatomical symmetry is impeccable,” added Juniper, the reindeer judge, in a tone suggesting she’d like to verify other aspects of Don’s anatomy.
I shot her a look that I hoped conveyed, “Back off, he’s mine.” She just grinned at me.
The crowd gasped as Don lowered his head, triggering a miniature aurora borealis that rippled between his antlers in spirals of green, blue, and purple light.
I burst out laughing. Not mockingly, but with pure, unfettered joy.
Don, normally so quiet and stoic, was absolutely eating up the attention.
His tail wiggled with pleasure at each cheer, and when he caught my eye, he winked before executing a perfect spin that made his antler display shimmer even more dramatically.
The crowd went absolutely wild.
Across the hall, I spotted Rudy and the others stamping their feet and whistling. Even Dash, who’d been upset to be eliminated in round two for excessive wax use, cheered enthusiastically.
“Don clearly had professional help,” sniffed Elmer, the fifth judge, a grumpy old elf with ice-blue glasses perched on his nose.
“Is that against the rules?” I picked up my scorecard, determined to give Don perfect marks.
“Not technically. But there’s an agreement—”
“Look at Cooper,” Tinsel interrupted, pointing to the final contestant waiting in the wings.
My jaw dropped for the second time that night as a massive reindeer I didn’t recognize stepped onto the runway. He made even Don look small, and his antlers... good lord.
The crowd went deathly silent before erupting in thunderous applause.
Cooper hadn’t just decorated his antlers; he’d turned them into a full theatrical production.
Lights flickered and gears turned, creating a living Santa’s workshop that bustled across his rack.
Tiny figurines hammered at toys, conveyor belts whirred, and reindeer took flight as each tilt of his head shifted the scene.
When he reached center stage, he lowered his massive rack, and music began playing from his antlers.
Dad leapt to his feet, clapping with childlike wonder. The joy radiating from him was almost visible, a shimmering aura that seemed to strengthen with each passing moment.
“Well, I think we have our winner,” Juniper murmured, scribbling perfect scores on her card.
I looked down at my scorecard, hesitating. Don’s display had been beautiful and technically impressive, but Cooper’s was... transcendent.
When the final scores were tallied, Cooper won by two points. Don took second place and transformed back to human form to accept his silver antler trophy, wearing nothing but a strategically placed Santa hat.
The after-party quickly kicked into gear and sprawled across the hall, clusters of reindeer and elves celebrating with spiced cider and gingerbread cookies. I stayed in my judge’s chair, enjoying the view of Don parading around with his silver antler trophy, thankfully now wearing pants.
A familiar presence settled into the chair beside me. “You did well as a judge, Snowflake.” Dad’s massive hand covered mine on the table. The tremor I’d noticed earlier was gone. “Though you weren’t exactly subtle about your favorites.”
I snorted into my drink. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I was completely unbiased toward the men I’m bonded to for eternity.”
Mom moved behind us, placing her hands on Dad’s shoulders. Her touch seemed to immediately relax him, his posture softening under her fingers. “The antler competition always brings out the competitive spirit.”
A comfortable silence fell between us, the abominable snowman in the room finally impossible to ignore. I swirled the last bit of my hot chocolate in my mug. “So... are we going to talk about Silven?”
Mom sank gracefully into the chair on my other side. “Are you all right?”
I paused, considering the question. “Yeah, I think I am. It was... satisfying seeing him face consequences.”
Dad’s eyes clouded with regret. “I should have seen what was happening years ago. With you. With Rudy. I didn’t know the loss of his antlers affected him that deeply…
he seemed overjoyed when I made him my advisor.
” His shoulders slumped. “I thought I was doing what was best, sending you away from the Pole. I believed the distance would keep your magic muted enough until you were ready.”
Across the room, Rudy lifted Kip onto his shoulders, both of them laughing as they chased Pierce. My heart squeezed at the sight.
“I understand why you did it.” The words felt true as they left my mouth. “I just wish I hadn’t lost so much time. Twelve years of not knowing who I was or who you both were.”
Dad nodded. “We both tried to help you, and when Silven suggested some time away, we didn’t think you’d forget so quickly. There are so many who live in Klarhaven and a few in Reinberg, even.”
Mom’s hand covered mine. “The North Pole has its own way of working, Neve. It protects itself—and you—in ways we don’t always understand. And look what it brought you.” Her eyes drifted to the nine men across the room.
I followed her gaze. Dane and Vix were arguing playfully over a cookie, while Blitz attempted to balance a sprig of mistletoe on Cole’s head.
Dash was teaching Pierce some ridiculous dance moves that involved a lot of hip movement that was definitely not appropriate for a North Pole celebration.
Kip and Rudy were now giving shoulder rides to young kids, and Don had put the silver antler trophy on his head like a bizarre crown.
“Everything that happened brought you here, to this moment,” Mom squeezed my hand. “To them.”
I watched as my men sensed my attention, nine pairs of eyes finding me across the crowded room. Nine smiles, each unique, each precious to me in ways I was still discovering.
Would I have found them if I’d stayed? If my life had followed a different path? Or was this exactly how it was always meant to unfold? The loss necessary for the finding, the forgetting essential for the remembering?
As I looked at my ridiculous, wonderful, loving herd, I couldn’t imagine a timeline where they weren’t mine. And that made every forgotten moment worth it.