Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
Sylvie
The next morning, I woke sandwiched between Kenai and Taimyr. Through our bond, I could sense that both of them were still half asleep, their breathing deep and even.
I sat up carefully, trying not to disturb them, and reached out, searching for Aleksi.
“He’s outside,” Kenai mumbled, not opening his eyes. “Been pacing since dawn.”
“Is he okay?”
“Definitely not,” Taimyr replied, equally drowsy. “But he’s not attacking anything, if that’s what you’re asking.”
I slipped out of bed and pulled on warmer clothes, following the pull of Aleksi’s presence—his scent of leather, pine, and spicy ginger—leading me outside into the snow.
I found him on the cliff edge behind the chalet, staring out at the mountains in his human form. Even from behind, the tension in his shoulders was visible.
“Couldn’t sleep?” I asked, approaching cautiously.
He didn’t turn around. “I don’t sleep much. Habit of leadership—always waiting for the next crisis.”
I moved to stand beside him, looking out at the pristine landscape. “That sounds exhausting.”
“It is,” he said simply. Then, after a pause: “I want to show you something. If you’re willing.”
“Show me what?”
“Two things, actually.” He finally looked at me, and I was struck again by the intensity in those forest-green eyes. “First, some of my people—those who are my responsibility, my clan. And then…something that might help your case.”
“Okay,” I agreed, curiosity piqued. “When?”
“Now. Before they wake up and insist on coming along.” His jaw tightened. “This is…it’s my clan’s business. My trust to extend.”
I understood what he wasn’t saying. He needed this to be between us—to prove himself without the others watching, without judgment.
I nodded and reached out to Kenai and Taimyr through the bond. I’ll be back soon.
Their hesitation hit immediately, protective instincts about letting me go anywhere with another alpha tightening like a vise around my heart. But a few moments later came their answer: We trust you. We’ll be there in an instant if you need anything.
I couldn’t stop the smile that crept across my lips. I was a lucky lady to have them.
Aleksi was still watching me with that deep, unreadable intensity. It reminded me of the one time I’d tried camping with an ex—the sheer enormity of the forest had been so overwhelming that I’d made him drive us home that same night. But this time, I couldn’t escape. And in truth, I didn’t want to.
“Let’s go.”
He nodded and shifted into his reindeer form.
Snow swirled around him as chestnut fur rippled over his skin and he quadrupled in size.
He knelt so I could climb onto his back, and any comparison to riding Taimyr vanished immediately.
Aleksi was massive—easily twice Kenai’s size, with shoulders broad enough that I had to stretch to grip his coat properly.
His antlers were enormous, dark and imposing, spreading above us like a crown.
He let out a snort that I somehow knew meant Hold on tight, the sound vibrating through his chest, and then we were moving.
Where Taimyr’s flight had been smooth and graceful, Aleksi’s was pure power. Each movement felt like harnessed thunder, and when he launched into the air, it wasn’t elegance, but dominance over the sky itself.
After a surprisingly short flight we descended into a shallow valley. As we landed, I saw a small cluster of log cabins nestled among the trees, smoke rising from chimneys. Several reindeer in human form were visible, and the moment they spotted Aleksi, they began hurrying toward us.
“Aleksi!” A man I recognized as Mikael limped forward, his ankle wrapped in bandages. “We weren’t expecting you back so soon.”
Aleksi shifted to human form, catching me as I slid off his back. “How’s the ankle?”
“Healing, thanks to you.” Mikael’s eyes flicked to me, widening with recognition—not of who I was, but of what I was. “Is she…?”
“Sylvie Hartwell,” Aleksi said, and there was something almost proud in his voice. “My—” He hesitated. “—the human lawyer. Sylvie, this is Mikael.”
More reindeer had gathered now, maybe a dozen, all staring at me with a mix of curiosity and hope.
“You’re a lawyer,” a woman noted, stepping forward. She was tall and broad-shouldered, with dark hair pulled back in a practical braid. “You’re going to help us?”
“I’m going to try,” I replied. “But I need to understand what you’re facing—really understand it.”
“Show her,” Aleksi said quietly to Mikael. “Show her what they did.”
Mikael hesitated, then slowly unwrapped the bandages around his ankle. What I saw made my stomach turn. The joint was healing, yes, but whoever had wrapped it had done a shoddy job; it was still swollen and bruised.
“The medical facility at the center didn’t treat it properly,” Mikael explained. “Said if I couldn’t work, I didn’t qualify for full medical benefits. They gave me basic pain meds and sent me back to my shift.” He turned to Aleksi. “Thank the gods you were there to help me.”
“It was nothing,” Aleksi muttered.
“It wasn’t nothing,” another man insisted. “He does it all the time—takes our extra shifts, shares his rations, volunteers for the most dangerous assignments so we don’t have to.”
“And then wonders why the other clans think we’re aggressive and difficult to work with,” Mikael added with a faint smile. “Because our leader’s too busy protecting us to play politics.”
“Politics are a waste of time when people are suffering,” Aleksi growled.
“See?” Mikael looked at me. “Too protective for his own good.”
I watched Aleksi’s jaw clench, saw the frustration in his eyes. He was being praised and criticized simultaneously, and he didn’t know how to handle either. It was kind of adorable.
“So, what are you going to do about the ankle?” I asked.
“Can’t afford more medical care,” Mikael answered quietly. “Not on what we make.”
“It was an on-the-job injury. What about a worker’s compensation claim?”
He shook his head. “Those take months. I can’t go that long without working.”
The woman with the braid spoke up. “We get the dangerous jobs because we’re ‘built for it,’ but we don’t get the medical support to recover from them.” Her voice dripped with bitterness. “That’s why our clan has the highest rate of permanent injury.”
I stood slowly, anger rising in my chest. “How many others have injuries like this?”
“In our crew? Four,” Aleksi replied. “In the entire Finnish forest reindeer population? Hundreds, if not more.”
“And the company’s response?”
“Disability packages,” the woman muttered. “Generous severance, they call it. But leaving means—”
“Losing your magic,” I finished for her.
“So we keep working—getting more injured, more broken—until we can’t work anymore.” Mikael’s voice was matter-of-fact, resigned. “It’s the same for all of us.”
I looked at Aleksi—really looked at him. The tension in his shoulders, the distance in his expression. The aggression that wasn’t arrogance at all, but armor. Armor forged by years of taking on the worst jobs to shield everyone else, and he’d worn it so often it had become part of him.
“You’ve been fighting this alone,” I murmured.
“Someone has to fight,” he retorted. “The other clans see Finnish forest reindeer as thugs—brutes too stupid or too angry to negotiate properly. They don’t understand that every meeting, every negotiation, I’m thinking about Mikael’s ankle and hundreds of others like it.
I’m thinking about people suffering because they can’t afford to leave. ”
“So you get angry,” I mused, the realization forming as I spoke. “And that confirms their prejudice. Which makes it harder to build alliances. Which makes you more isolated. Which makes you angrier.”
His jaw worked. “I’m not good at…diplomacy. At saying the right thing or playing political games. I’m good at protecting my people. That’s all I know how to do.”
Without thinking, I wove my fingers through his. “Luckily, you don’t have to do it alone—not anymore.”
His gaze softened, the tension in his shoulders loosening just slightly.
We spent another hour with his crew, and I took careful notes on their injuries, their working conditions.
But I also watched Aleksi—the gentle way he checked on Mikael’s ankle, the way he knew everyone’s names, their families, their struggles.
The quiet pride in his eyes when they spoke of small victories.
This wasn’t a brute. This was a leader who cared so much it was slowly destroying him.
When I finally had more than enough notes, he reached for my hand again, his touch careful, deliberate. “I have something else to show you,” he said. “Are you ready?”
I nodded, and he shifted back into his reindeer form so I could climb onto his back.
We flew out of the valley and for another ten minutes before descending near what looked like a cave entrance hidden deep in the forest. After I slid off and he shifted back, he stood there for a long moment, unmoving, his gaze fixed on the shadows ahead.
“What is it?” I asked.
“What I’m about to show you…only a few know about it. It’s our greatest secret—our most valuable asset.” He looked at me, vulnerability clear in his eyes. “I’m trusting you with something I’ve never shared outside my clan.”
“I understand.” And I did. This wasn’t just him being vulnerable with me—it was him risking the safety of his people. As someone who was only just learning to share her own heart, I understood the bravery that took.
He studied my face for another beat, then nodded and led me into the cave. The passage was narrow at first but opened into a vast underground space that stole my breath.
It was a library. An enormous, ancient library carved into the rock itself.
Shelves stretched from floor to ceiling, filled with books, scrolls, and documents that looked centuries old. The space was lit by some kind of magical light that didn’t seem to come from any single source, casting everything in a soft, golden glow.
“This is…” I couldn’t find words.