Chapter Fifteen
Snow Place Like Home
Holly
The snow feels different here. It’s softer, almost as if someone shook powdered sugar through a sieve, landing in quiet little puffs instead of thick clumps.
Each rolling hill glitters in the morning light, a sea of diamonds glistening.
If this were a fairy-tale, I’d be in a deep red gown with a petty coat lined in white fur.
I’m both enchanted and deeply suspicious.
Ryatt walks beside me, his hand firmly in mine as we follow the winding path away from town. Every time I look back, Sugarplum Hollow glows brightly in the distance like a snowglobe someone twisted the windup on.
It’s beautiful here, but the air feels heavy or maybe it’s the feelings running through me.
All I know is the world feels as though it’s holding it’s breath, waiting for something to happen.
Something that will change the world. You can feel it in the silence, with the birds sitting on the branches watching us as we pass by.
Chester’s head pokes out from my zipped jacket, his little eyes darting around as he huffs at the snow. “Don’t you dare think about it. There won’t be any chasing of ice fairies or stealing any cookies. Do you hear me?” He howls as he rolls his eyes before ducking back into my jacket.
Up ahead the path opens up to a row of nine massive homes tucked against the base of the mountains.
Each one is dripping with lights and frosted snow.
These aren’t cookie cutter homes either—each one has their own unique personality.
One’s large wrap around porch could host an entire party.
While another’s garden could easily be featured in home magazines.
In the center sits a beautiful stone mansion with warm candles flickering in each paned window. Above the grand double door is a wooden sign that reads The Hall of Reins. I have no idea what this place is, but even I can tell it’s important.
Ryatt’s thumb strokes back and forth across the back of my hand. “You alright?”
“Oh, yeah, totally fine.” I smile. “Just casually walking towards the biggest home I’ve ever seen after some mysterious letter arrives by a tiny blue lady named Eirvyn. Yep, no big deal. I’m good.”
He squeezes my hand gently, and something in me settles when I look into his eyes.
His Northern Star pulses from beneath his sweater, reminding me we are in this together.
A warmth spreads from where our hands are joined, bringing with it a wash of calm that I needed.
It’s almost as if it knows, a living thing inside of us.
The massive doors ahead creak open on their own, releasing a wave of warm, cinnamon-scented air that makes my knees weak. Ryatt doesn’t move until I do, as if he’s waiting for me to be ready.
“I guess this is welcome home,” I whisper.
He glances over, with the faintest smile tugging at his lips. “Snow place like it.”
I laugh softly as we step inside, my heart pounding against my ribs. The doors close behind us with a low, echoing thud that feels more than just a physical door closing.
Right inside the massive living room is a fire roaring in a fireplace large enough I’m pretty sure I could stand in it. There’s white marble tiles laid in precision lines beneath it. The large mantle has the most perfect garland I’ve ever seen, with blue and silver bells hanging along it.
“Whoa, I don’t think I’ve ever seen ceilings this high in a home before. What is that? 50 feet?”
Ryatt leans over, kissing my temple as a soft chuckle leaves him. “Berry, I look forward to spending the rest of my life with you, quirky commentary and all.”
I roll my eyes at him, but my cheeks flush all the same. “You say that now but wait until I’m asking how many Christmas trees are too many for one room.”
He grins as his eyes twinkle. “There’s no such thing in Sugarplum Hollow.”
Before I can fire back, movement catches my eye.
A group of people—no, men—stand gathered around a long table carved from dark wood, each one with an air of importance that makes my pulse stutter.
Their posture is so regal, the kind of stiffness that comes from years of training.
Their hair and beards are so neatly trimmed and in a place that even their gray hairs are in perfect lines.
Ryatt straightens beside me, his hand falling from mine as his head dips respectfully.
The sudden change in his demeanor makes my stomach dip.
My flirty, confident man that smirks at me over cups of cocoa is gone, and in his place stands Prince Ryatt Dasher—the heir to whatever this magical kingdom is.
One of the men steps forward, his mouth cut into a hard line.
His dark black hair is streaked with gray, and those eyes, the same ones I’ve stared into on the younger version of them.
This must be Ryatt’s father, a slightly more terrifying version of the man I love.
His eyes only flick to me once before cutting back to Ryatt.
“You’re late,” he says, his voice gravely and hard. “Aurielle’s decree isn’t a suggestion. You’re well aware of its importance. Not even the next Dasher can ignore the call, or should we be looking for your replacement?”
My throat goes dry as his words sink in. The next Dasher. What is life going to be like living here with Christmas a major part of our lives?
I resist the urge to grab Ryatt’s hand, my fingers twitch at my side trying to find anything to ground me in this moment. I’m not sure if I need comfort, or if the unease is also coming from him too as he faces his father.
It’s only when the silence of the room becomes too much that my eyes drift around, taking in every single person staring at me.
But it’s not the curious sort of staring.
No, this is the how dare you knock over the Christmas tree kind of staring.
It’s as if my presence is personally offending every single one of them.
Then again, I don’t see any other women here, so maybe it’s a mans only club? How very sixth century of them. Women can do cool shit to you know.
“Why are they staring?” I whisper under my breath, glancing down to make sure I’m not sporting a coffee stain or anything.
My heart lurches when I see what everyone is staring at.
The faint shimmer of light pulses beneath my sweater.
Our Northern Stars are pulsing in sync with each other, steady, and confident.
A low murmur ripples through the room as everyone whispers to each other. But it’s the faint words not in English that I hear the loudest. The ones that remind me of just last night when we were blessed.
Ryatt shifts slightly, stepping just enough in front of me to block their view.
I watch as he rolls his shoulders back, his spine stiffening to an uncomfortable stature.
“Aurielle visited us last night and blessed our union. And with that blessing she’s gifted us with Northern Stars to always guide us back to each other. This is known.”
I watch in fascination as, one by one, each of the males lifts their right hand and covers his own Northern Stars. Their heads dip as they say in unison, “Blessed be the union and may their light shine bright.”
The room stills, the fire crackling the only sound as the temperature drops.
Tiny snowflakes fall from thin air. Whispers rise as everyone turns their heads towards the center of the room.
The outline of a woman’s figure stands dead center, her hands clasped together.
The snow lies perfectly along her shoulders and arms. But it’s the strangest sight.
I feel as though I can see her, but at the same time, I can’t see her.
I get the sense that she’s smiling at me before the words fill the room. “My Chosen Nine, we come before you to present the newest bonded pair and our next Dasher.”
Each of the men kneels down on one knee, his head bowed in reverence.
The air vibrates against my skin like drums beating in rhythm with my heart. I can feel the magic in it–ancient in a way that I can’t even fathom when it started. Her voice, soft but commanding, echoes through every corner of the room, seeping into my soul.
Ryatt slowly drops down to one knee beside his father, his head bowed, and for a moment–I’m just standing there staring at everyone.
My eyes flick from one person to the next, each one of them not moving.
I’m the only one upright, while everyone else seems to know what to do.
As my eyes move along the room, I finally look back up to glowing snow spirit who I can somehow sense is smiling at me.
“Uh,” I whisper, awkwardly lifting my hand in a little wave. “Hi?”
The glowing figure tilts her head slightly, and though I still can’t see her face, I swear she laughs and the snow sort of shook with it. The sound ripples around the room, filling me with my own giddiness to match her own.
“You carry his light now, Holly Winters. You are his home, his reason, and the one he will always come to when he needs light in his darkest moments. Remember, no matter how far he goes, you are his true North.”
Before I can respond, her light brightens, blinding me. I shield my eyes with my arm as I wince at the brightness. As the light washes over the room, I look down to see each of our stars glowing brightly in response.
The moment the light fades, her words float down with the last of the snowflakes. “Let him rise and take his place among the reins. It’s time.”
Ryatt’s father stands first, his posture is one of a proud dad, but his eyes are softer than they were when we arrived. He steps forward, placing a heavy hand on Ryatt’s shoulder.
“The time has come, son,” his father says, voice low but steady.
There’s a crack that resounds around the room as the panels in the center of the room slide back, as something seems to rise from below.
A waist-high pedestal in white marble sits in the center with a perfect crystal sleigh perched on top of it.
As soon as it is fully erect, the panels slide shut forming a platform around the pedestal. Each of the nine take a marked spot on the ground, a symbol special to each of them.
Ryatt lifts off the ground and walks to stand before the crystal sleigh as each of the nine begins a hymn. It’s ethereal and beautiful even if I don’t understand the words.
Ryatt nods once before sinking to his knees, laying his hands palm up on his thighs as the music builds.
Light ripples across the sleigh before pouring down in a beautiful, multi-colored waterfall, pooling in front of him as it moves beneath him.
My chest tightens. I have no idea what’s happening, but I can’t help feeling that history is being written right in front of me.
The glow from the pedestal brightens as the first man steps forward, raising his right hand before pressing it to the emblem hanging from the braided leather necklace.
“Solvarn,” he intones. The sound hums through the marble floor, deep and resonant, vibrating through me. His head turns towards me before he says, “Strength.” His head dips as the word echoes around the room. He takes one step back, falling back into his original spot.
The second one follows, his tone softer, more melodic. “Elathen.” Just like before, he turns to me repeating the word in English, “Honor.”
The next lowers his head, his voice fragile but unwavering. “Mirenya.” His eyes flick to mine. “Compassion.” His cheeks warm when I smile at him.
We move around the room, each one speaking their word, and it rings into the air, adding a piece of magic with each spoken word.
All eyes turn to the final man—Ryatt’s father. His voice is strong, unshakeable, and proud. Though it carries a tinge of sorrow. “Elarion.” His eyes find mine, and I see the tears twinkling from his lower lashes as he says, “Legend.”
The moment he speaks the final word, the hall fills with light.
The nine blessings shimmer into being—tiny motes of red and green swirl around Ryatt like a blizzard of Christmas magic.
The words echo before transforming into a golden symbol before dissolving into him, sinking into his skin, finding their way to his soul.
Ryatt’s Northern Star flares so bright it outshines the hearth fire, the colorful light racing across his veins like lightning. I raise my hand, shielding my eyes as the hymn rises louder and louder, pulsing with power and purpose.
Before I know it, it’s over. The light fades, and the music cuts off mid-note.
When my vision clears, Ryatt is glowing, his antlers now adorned with antique bells, red velvet ribbon, and green leaves with three bright red berries covering the base of them. He’s majestic in a way that even makes the man who walked in her feel dull in comparison.
His father steps forward, raising both his hands as he says, “Rise, Ryatt Dasher, heir of the North Wind and Keeper of the First Reins.”
Ryatt rises, twisting around to face me as the room erupts in a unified chorus.
“By Aurielle’s will, so it is done.”
The soft white glow outlines his body as I take in my mate, now feeling even more mythical than he was before. His crest hangs from his neck, with the Dasher emblem glinting against his dark navy shirt.
And just like that, the man who saved me from dying—the flirty, cocoa-drinking, reindeer prince—is officially the new Dasher.
So, what does that mean for me?