Five Aris
FIVE
A RIS
Aris pressed his fingers to his temples, attempting to steady the vein that pulsed in his forehead.
His eyes were on Gundry, who was looping excited circles around supposed spirits who Aris could pinpoint only by the ribbons they tossed haphazardly in the air.
Every time the hound barked, the vein pulsed, and Aris made no attempt to mask his annoyance.
Blast my brother and his meddling. Whatever Death was up to, Aris would ensure that he made the reaper pay for it tenfold.
He straightened when Gundry spun to the door, lunging past Aris a second before the handle twisted and Blythe stepped inside.
“What on earth is all of the fuss?” she asked, posing the question to Gundry, whose tongue was frothing as the hound practically bounced on his paws.
Blythe stooping down to scratch him behind the ears was the perfect excuse Aris needed for his eyes to flash gold, weaving his threads around the wandering ribbons.
He plucked them away from the spirits and fisted them tight.
“Signa and I were wrapping gifts,” he said, crossing to stand before his wife with a smile he hoped appeared natural. “I think the hound was growing bored with our monotony.”
Blythe hummed under her breath, still crouched to Gundry’s level. “Is that so? Then I suppose it’s a good thing I’ve arrived to rescue you all from such dreadful boredom.” She cooed at the hound, petting Gundry with increasing vigor as he rolled onto his back and began kicking his leg.
Aris shoved the ribbons into his trouser pockets so that his hand could rest on the small of her back.
“I’m in need of rescuing, am I? And what will you do with me now that I’ve been saved?
” He pulled Blythe to his chest when she straightened, too often forgetting his troubles at the mere sight of her.
Intimacy had never been the same without her, no matter who he’d tried to find it with.
And now that it had returned as part of his life, he would sooner the world burn than ever give up Blythe again.
When he could not be holding her, he preferred to be at her side or in the same room.
Once she’d started to get annoyed by his constant coddling, Aris eventually accepted just being in the same house, even if they were floors apart.
He did not want to suffocate his new—at least in practice—bride, though he would have loved to whisk her away, just the two of them, for a solid decade at least.
“Oh, don’t mind me,” Signa called to him, clearing her throat. “Please do continue on as though I am little more than the decor.”
Aris rolled his eyes. While he eased back, he did not loosen his hold on Blythe. Instead he whispered to her, “Next year, they will spend the night only on Christmas Eve.”
Blythe bumped him on the shoulder, laughing as she pried herself from his grasp and hurried over to her cousin.
Aris double-checked that the ribbons were stuffed well into his pocket before he shared a look with Signa, whose smile was as tense as he felt.
Gundry’s head once again craned back, struggling between following the spirits and demanding more petting.
Not keen to make Blythe aware of their predicament, Aris caught Signa’s eye and made a motion toward the door. He didn’t quite understand all the rules with spirits or how they operated, but perhaps getting out of this room would be a good first step.
Blythe remained perfectly oblivious, taking hold of Signa’s hand and then turning back to fetch Aris’s with the other. “For what it’s worth, I have something brilliant planned for everyone this evening. It’s already all set up for us in the parlor.”
Aris suddenly found himself wishing he could remain with the spirits, because Blythe had that look about her. Brimming eyes and a coy half smirk that made Aris groan inwardly, as he’d come to learn exactly what it meant.
She was plotting another game.
Aris didn’t know what it was about games that invigorated his wife so, but from their very first croquet match, Aris had learned that there was a monster residing within Blythe.
One who awakened only in the face of a new challenge.
She was competitive to her core—though he doubted that she’d ever readily admit to it—and soured herself for at least half a day after a particularly bad loss.
And yet still she continued to fervently seek out new games that Aris had little choice but to resign himself to playing.
Blythe led them down the stairs to the parlor, which smelled of a wintertime forest. There were twice as many decorations as there had been only an hour prior.
Holly hung around every pillar. Two giant wreaths hung on the double doors, filled with cinnamon sticks, pine cones, and dried oranges woven between branches of evergreens.
Brilliant red poinsettias filled every corner, and Aris spotted several archways hosting cleverly hidden mistletoe.
“How brilliant you’ve become,” Aris whispered, making a mental note that he, too, would have to step up his creativity for the holidays. If Blythe wanted Wisteria to feel like Christmas incarnate, he was more than happy to oblige.
“ Become ?” Blythe demanded, incredulous. “You’ve not been paying attention, husband, for I have always been brilliant.”
Elijah waited for them in the parlor, seated at a small round table.
If one didn’t know better, they’d think the man at least ten years younger than his seventy years.
There was a cleverness in his eyes, and though he moved a little slower these days, he was in remarkable shape.
His blond hair had silvered, and he kept more of his scruff than usual, having grown lazier with his shaving.
It was a good look for him. One that attracted attention wherever he went.
But while many had tried over the years to get him to change his mind—Blythe included—Elijah had chosen never to court another soul.
He’d instead devoted all his time to his remaining family, loving both Blythe and Signa as daughters.
Aris had much to thank Elijah for, as so much of Blythe’s well-being after Aris had died was due to her father’s support.
He’d practically abandoned Thorn Grove until she became well enough to handle being on her own.
He was a good man, and one Aris was glad to call his father by marriage.
For all their sakes, he hoped that Death would take a very long while to claim Elijah.
Still, the man was not perfect. In fact, Blythe’s sense of competition was inherited directly from him, and as the three stepped into the parlor, Elijah’s gleaming eyes mirrored his daughter’s.
“Behold! Tonight’s game!” She swept her hand toward the table, on which sat a large bowl filled with raisins, a bottle of brandy, a pail full of sand, and a set of matches.
Signa took one look at the display and groaned. “Must we play this one? I couldn’t manage a single raisin last time.”
“That’s why we’re going to try again. You needn’t be so frightened of it.
” Blythe released their hands to grab hold of the brandy.
She poured it onto the raisins, careful to keep all liquid in the bowl.
Once that was done she struck a match, setting it to the brandy and grinning as she watched the bowl ignite.
Aris had seen this game before. In many of the lives that he’d lived through the eyes of others, he had even tried his hand at it.
His own hands, of course, had never dared play.
In fact, Aris was quite protective of them, considering how utterly brilliant and creative they were.
It would be a shame for the world to lose his skill on account of a silly fire.
And yet for Blythe, he supposed he could try at least a round.
“Snapdragon,” he said, nodding at the bowl as he settled into the seat beside Blythe. She was already in deep focus, eyes staring unblinking at the fire as she prepared her strategy.
“Precisely. Do you need the rules?”
He didn’t. It was a simple enough game: All those participating would take turns trying to fish out raisins from the flames before they were burned. The sand was there out of precaution, meant to douse the fire if things got out of hand.
“Are you certain this is what you want to play tonight?” Signa asked, though Elijah and Blythe were both already bent like vultures over the flames, and Aris knew that once his wife had made up her mind, there would be no changing it.
Aris tied her hair back with his threads, knowing she’d sooner allow it to singe away than lose this game.
“You first,” she taunted her father, who rubbed his hands together as if to warm them up.
“I hope you’re not too hungry,” he shot back. “I’ve been playing since long before you were born. You’re going to lose.”
“Wait, this game has a winner?” In all the times he’d played, Aris had never remembered that part. And yet Blythe and Elijah looked incredulous as they shot him a look.
“Of course it does,” Blythe said. “Every game must have a winner. In snapdragon, it’s whoever eats the most raisins!”
Very well, then. Aris nodded, positioning himself over the flames. Surely it couldn’t be that hard to win…
“You are no better than they are,” Signa grumbled at him as she rolled up her sleeves. Aris didn’t bother refuting it. As silly as he found his wife’s competitiveness, he knew that he was every bit as bad. In fact, they each brought it out of each other tenfold.
Unlike Blythe, however, Aris had the added distraction of ensuring that his palace did not burn to the ground due to unruly spirits. Still, if he could win and manage the spirits, all the better. He smiled at Signa, the warmth of the flames heating his cheeks.
“Let’s begin.”