Chapter Twelve #2
Ryatt punches the guy in the arm when he whispers something to him in that same language I heard before. I’m sure I don’t want to know what was said this time. The other guy seems quieter, more reserved then the first one.
He’s standing back, allowing the other guy to have all the attention, while also seeming to not notice just how much attention he seems to draw.
I notice that he’s a bit smaller than Ryatt and the other guy, but no less handsome. His sharp jawline and tender eyes would melt any girl’s heart, or something else. His medium brownish hair is a messy style on top of his head, but I can easily tell it’s intentionally done that way.
“Aren’t you going to introduce us, Ryatt?” The first guy nudges Ryatt with his elbow, a flirtatious smile spreading across his face as he winks at me.
I snort when Ryatt smacks him against the back of his head and the guy yelps out an “ow.” Ryatt cuts his eyes at him before walking over and putting his arm around my shoulders.
“Everyone, this is Holly Winters.” He gestures with his hand towards me.
“Holly,” he leans his head down, smiling softly.
“These two idiots are Caspian Dancer,” he points towards the flirty one.
“And Callen Prancer.” He points to the quieter of the two.
Their names fit them so well, I can honestly say I’d have guessed them to by looking at them.
Caspian steps forward, bowing at the waist, as he says, “Hello Holly. I’m the handsomest of the nine princes and don’t let any of the others tell you otherwise.”
Callen snorts as he walks over, grasping my gloved hand in his before pulling it towards his mouth.
He places a chaise kiss on my knuckles before stepping back and bowing.
“Don’t listen to anything Caspian says. He’s nothing but a big ol flirt with nobody but the elves to flirt with.
Welcome Princess, we are happy to have you here. ”
My mind reels with what this all means. First, their names are the reindeer names, but they are men, aren’t they? Not reindeer? Is this town so into Christmas that they named themselves after it? I know she called herself Mrs. Claus, but surely she doesn’t mean the real one, right?
I can feel myself spiraling, the real panic setting in.
It’s too much. I love Christmas and all that, but these people are taking it way too far.
They really believe that they are the real deal, so much so they named themselves after it?
He said to believe everything, but right now I feel as though I’m dreaming, and I need to wake up back in my shitty apartment with Chester.
Chester?!? This entire time he’s been quiet, way too quiet. He’s never this silent, lopsided on his well-behaved day. When I look down, he’s still dangling from my arm, watching everything unfold. Yeah, now I know I’m dreaming. See, even Chester is being weird.
“I think we need to give them so space. Someone has a serious amount of explaining to do, and if we keep bothering them, I think someone might pass out.” Estelle walks over, putting an arm around Caspians and Callen’s arms as she winks at me.
“Come on, boys, I have some freshly baked cookies I need you to try. Something tells me you are going to love them.”
I don’t know how she knows it, or if it’s written on my face, but I could kiss Estelle on the cheek for this.
The two princes bow their heads to us before they quietly walk down the path together.
I whirl around to face Ryatt, ready to ask my million questions, but he stops me with a finger across my lips.
“I know Berry. I can see all the questions swirling behind those caramel eyes of yours. How about we walk to my house, have a fresh cup of cocoa, and I’ll explain everything.”
I pout. “Fine, but there better be whipped cream and chocolate chunks. Otherwise, I’m finding Estelle and telling on you. She clearly is the one in charge around here.”
“Oh, she definitely is the one in charge here.” He snorts.
“You’ve been warned, mister.” I point my finger up at him, my eyes narrowing into slits.
“Yes, ma’am.” He pulls my hand into the crook of his elbow, and we walk down the path.
As we walk along the path, I can’t help but compare this to the small towns I’ve grown up knowing.
Quaint, peaceful, and full of friendly people.
Even the shops have that same small-town charm.
Red bricks lining the walls, sidewalks with piles of snow, wooden benches line the paths with mistletoe and holly berries decorating the back.
The towering streetlights with candles glowing brightly in the glass.
Small pine wreaths hanging beneath them with bright red bows tied to them.
There’s even a banner hanging proudly across the path declaring the Reindeer Games happening on December 27th.
I glance around, watching people mingle even with the frigid temperatures and the snow still falling. But it’s weird. Even though the snow if falling in a consistent, never-ending wave, it doesn’t seem to be accumulating on the ground.
“If it’s always snowing, how is there not more snow on the ground?” I ask as I hold my hand out, catching snowflakes in my gloves.
“Honestly, I don’t know the answer. I’d say it’s part of the… magic of this town, but I’d be guessing.” He shrugs. “You could probably ask Estelle. She’d know more.”
Magic? Estelle? A whole town that just isn’t buried in snow because of… vibes?
My eyebrows pull together. “You’ve never wondered why we aren’t under seventy feet of powder right now?”
He hesitates—not a long pause, just enough to make me notice—before giving another easy shrug. “Maybe when I was a kid. But life got busy.” His tone shifts, softer but closed-off. “Lots of training. Lots of expectations. Not much time to question things.”
I blink at him. Training? Expectations? For what, exactly? None of this makes sense, and it’s sending little confused sparks through my brain.
“Oh.” I offer a half-smile. “That’s… kind of sad. You don’t even have time for movies? Games?”
He gestures toward the sign above us. “Reindeer Games is the only time we do something outside routine.”
My footsteps falter. “I’m sorry—Reindeer Games is a what now?”
He smirks, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Just… competition stuff. A way to see how you stack up with the others.”
“Others?” I echo. “Like coworkers? Rivals? A fantasy football league I don’t know about?”
He gives a non-committal hum.
I nod along even though my brain is screaming that none of this is normal. The way he’s talking… he sounds like he believes it. Like this isn’t an elaborate joke or some Macy’s employee commitment to the bit.
“So,” I say slowly, searching his face, “do you… dress up like reindeer and challenge each other? Or something like that?”
“Something like that.” His smile dips into something brooding, thoughtful—like he’s carrying whole worlds he’s not willing to set down yet.
And suddenly I’m aware all over again that I barely know this man. But I want to.
We walk in silence, passing small storefronts with an array of goodies. Just like any small town, there’s a massive building in the middle of the square with its very own towering Christmas tree in the courtyard.
The home decor shop’s windows are lined with bright red and gold Christmas decor, snow frosting the edges of the window, as a bright sign blinks proclaiming the best deals in town.
The clothing store, appropriately named Frosted Threads, has a stunning ball gown in the window.
Its dark green bodice flows to the ground in an elegant way.
It’s line with holly berries and deep green leaves along the bottom of the skirt.
The bodice has gold threads weaving between the leaves and berries, with a sweetheart neckline.
It’s a stunning gown that took a lot of time to create.
We turn next to the store heading down the sidewalk towards what looks like a bunch of houses when I spot a large red light blinking into the sky above an inn. I can’t help but snort when I see the name. Alright, this town really is a living Christmas town.
Right below the beaming red light is a large white wooden sign reading “Red Light Inn, May All Travelers Find Their Way Safely Home.”
“You guys really dig this whole Christmas gig. I know I love the holiday, but you guys make me look like an ameatur, that’s for sure. I bow down to the Prince of Sugarplum, you exceed even my love for the holiday.”
He grimaces as he ducks his head slightly. “Yeah, you could say that.”
We don’t say much else to each other as we walk the path towards the homes. They are all cute and unique. They give off a sort of gingerbread house vibe with their brown walls, snow, and lights glowing along the roof line. It’s adorable and I kind of want one myself.
When we turn down a street with only nine evenly spaced out homes, I look up at Ryatt. He’s been rather quiet, and I’m worried about why.
“One perk of being one of the nine, you have a street all to yourself until you retire.”
“Okay…”
We walk to the first home and Ryatt turns us up the sidewalk.
It’s a deep brown with a large window on the right side of the door and a smaller window on the left side.
The bushes lining beneath the window are evergreens trimmed perfectly into rectangle shapes.
His lights hanging around his house are in the straightest lines I’ve ever seen.
“Very…precise, sir.” I chuckle as he unlocks his front door and pushes it open.
The lights flicker on and the fireplace roars to life as we step into his living room. His brown leather couches sit in perfect symmetry to each other with a wooden coffee table nestled in front of them. His honey-brown wood floors glisten in the light.
“Oh, wow. You probably thought my apartment was a shithole compared to this place. There is literally not a speck of dirt to be found around here. How do you even keep it this clean?”