Chapter 28 Snowflake
Snowflake
Iblinked up at my dad. His casual red polo shirt with the Jingle logo that I’d seen hundreds of times over video calls looked ridiculously out of place in the castle.
For a moment, I almost laughed. Then my eyes fixed on his face.
He looked... tired. So tired. The silver in his beard seemed heavier than I remembered, his eyes carrying shadows I’d never noticed before. The robust, jolly man who’d always insisted on hot chocolate and bear hugs during his brief visits to Palm Springs looked hollowed out.
He crossed the room with hesitant steps, each one seeming to take effort, like he was walking through snow rather than across polished wood. The bed dipped as he lowered himself beside me.
“Snowflake,” he repeated, the word hanging between us like a fragile ornament.
“Dad, you look exhausted.” I wasn’t about to beat around the bush. Not when so much time had been lost already.
Amusement flashed across his features. “I’ve just been staying up too late. Plus, too many cookies, not enough exercise.”
I narrowed my eyes, refusing to let him dodge. “Your magic is fading.”
Mom’s hand squeezed mine, and for a beat, silence filled the space. Then he exhaled, his broad shoulders slumping forward as if relieved of a burden they’d carried for too long.
“You always were too clever for your own good.” He ran a hand through his silver hair. “Yes… my magic has been dwindling for years.”
My throat tightened as I processed this, torn between lingering anger at everything they’d withheld from me and the unfamiliar ache of seeing his vulnerability. “How bad is it?”
He lifted his palm, and a tiny spark of red light flickered there before sputtering out. “After this Christmas, I may burn out completely.”
“But you can’t—” I stopped, not even sure what I was protesting. I barely understood any of this. “What happens if you... burn out?”
“I like to call it a Coal-25 situation.”
I frowned. “A what?”
“You know, like Catch-22, but festive.” His attempted humor fell into the growing silence between us.
I stared at him blankly.
“That’s a joke, Snowflake.” He sighed. “I suppose I’m not very funny anymore either.”
My mom made a small sound, somewhere between a laugh and a sob. “Chris, perhaps we should wait.”
“No, Glim. She deserves the truth. All of it. Joy has been fading in the world for a while now, and that impacts Christmas joy. As it fades, so does my magic. If my magic fades, then I can’t deliver joy to those who need it most, which, unfortunately, will make the issue worse.”
“But what about all the decorations and music and presents? Christmas is everywhere. How can joy be fading?”
“Commercialization without true spirit is like...” He searched for words. “Like a beautiful Christmas tree with no lights. The form is there, but the joy that makes it special is missing. I can only do so much. Fading joy is a year-round issue.”
Ice formed along the edge of my blanket, spreading outward from where my fingers clutched the fabric. “So you’re dying.”
It wasn’t a question.
“Not dying, exactly.” He reached out, hesitating a moment before covering my hand with his. Warmth flowed from his touch, melting the ice. “Just... fading. Becoming mortal again.”
“And you didn’t think I should know about any of this? That I could have helped?”
My mom made a soft sound. “Neve…”
“No.” I pulled my hands away from both of them. “You told me you were researchers. You let me believe I was human. Meanwhile, I’m some kind of Christmas princess with ice powers? And you’re both just... fine with me finding out like this?”
Outside the frosted windows, the snow fell harder, driven by a wind that hadn’t been there before.
Dad’s eyes tracked the snowfall, a hint of something like pride crossing his face before sadness replaced it. “We thought we were protecting you.”
“From what?”
“From yourself.” His voice was gentle but unyielding. “Your magic was too strong, too wild. And then after the accident…”
Images flashed through my mind with fractured memories of blinding light, screaming, ice spreading in all directions. The feeling of being utterly out of control.
“I only remember pieces of it.” I pressed my palms against my eyes, trying to force the memories into focus. “But it’s like looking through frosted glass. I only know about it because of Lumi.”
Dad’s weight shifted on the bed. “It was my fault. I pushed you too hard with your training and wanted you to be ready too soon.”
“Ready for what?”
His eyes met mine, the blue in them glowing faintly. “To take my place.”
I laughed, the sound harsh and brittle. “Take your place? As Santa? That’s ridiculous!”
His face remained serious. “It’s not. You have enough magic to continue on with the tradition.”
“I can’t be...” The words evaporated on my tongue as the full weight of everything crashed down. My entire identity was unraveling—years of lies, powers I couldn’t control, and now the expectation that I’d somehow save Christmas.
My chest tightened, each breath becoming more difficult than the last. The room blurred as tears welled in my eyes, spilling over before I could stop them. Ice crystals formed where they hit the blanket.
“I don’t… I can’t…” The sobs broke through, and magic pulsed through my veins, responding to my distress as snowflakes began swirling around the room.
For once, I didn’t try to stop it. Didn’t push it down or pretend it wasn’t happening. I let myself break and feel everything I’d been running from: the confusion, the hurt, the anger, losing years I’d never get back.
Dad’s arms wrapped around me, strong and warm and familiar. Mom pressed against my other side, her fingers stroking my hair the way she used to when I was small.
“Let it out, Snowflake,” he murmured against my hair. “The storm always passes.”
I don’t know how long I cried, folded between them like a child. Eventually, the tears slowed, and the snow and ice around the room disappeared as if it had never been there.
I pulled back, wiping my face with the back of my hand. “I can’t be Santa.”
His brow furrowed. “Why not?”
I gestured at my chest with both hands. “Because I have these? Among other anatomical differences that I will not be pointing out to my father.”
My mom’s jaw dropped, her hand flying to cover her mouth. “Neve!”
My dad threw his head back and laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners. It transformed his face, the exhaustion momentarily replaced with joy.
“Is that your only objection?” He leaned back, studying me with newfound amusement.
I crossed my arms. “It’s a pretty significant one.”
“No one actually sees me, you know.” He wiped a tear of mirth from his eye. “And the few times someone has caught a glimpse over the centuries, I used a glamour.”
My mom nodded, recovering from her shock. “The traditional image of Santa wasn’t even created until the 1800s. Before that, the perception of gift-givers varied widely across cultures.”
I squinted at him. “So, I could look like... anything?”
“More or less.” He shrugged. “The magic responds to belief. Children believe in Santa Claus, so that’s the form that manifests in their perception. But the actual physical form of the Yuletide Spirit is quite changeable.”
The Yuletide Spirit. Fuck me, that was going to take some getting used to.
“Okay, but that’s still ignoring the bigger issue.” I held up my hand, where frost was still forming and melting in nervous patterns across my skin. “I can barely control this. I accidentally created snow sharks. They tried to eat Blitz.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Snow sharks? That’s... creative.”
“It’s dangerous.” I dropped my hand. “What if I hurt someone? What if I mess up Christmas for everyone? What if—”
“What if you succeed?” He covered my hands with his. “What if you were always meant for this?”
I stared at our hands, his larger one nearly engulfing mine. “I don’t know how.”
He squeezed gently. “I suppose we have some work to do, then.”
Something warm and unfamiliar stirred in my chest. Not quite hope, but maybe the possibility of it.
“Yeah,” I whispered. “I guess we do.”
Part of my training was how to navigate dinner with my parents and the nine men I was falling for. If I could survive an hour of torture, I would figure out the whole Santa Claus gig.
I sat between Rudy and Don at a table that stretched so long it could have hosted the entire North Pole.
Crystal goblets refracted light from the chandeliers overhead, casting rainbow patterns across a tablecloth so white it practically glowed.
The entire setting screamed magical North Pole royalty.
My dad sat at the head of the table, looking less like the weary man who’d confessed his fading powers and more like the jovial Santa I’d glimpsed in recovered memories. My mom, elegant in a silver gown that matched her hair, sat opposite him.
“Snowflake, you must try the frost-kissed venison.” My dad gestured to a platter being carried by an elf server. “It was always your favorite.”
I stared at the meat, which literally sparkled with tiny ice crystals that somehow didn’t melt. “Um, isn’t that a bit... cannibalistic?” I whispered to Rudy, glancing pointedly at the reindeer men surrounding me.
Rudy nearly choked on his wine. His hand found my thigh under the table and squeezed gently.
“We don’t mind,” Dane called from across the table, spearing a generous portion onto his plate. “Venison is delicious.”
“So you’ve eaten... you know... deer meat while being...” I made antler gestures with my fingers.
Kip leaned forward, his eyes teasing. “Humans eat other mammals all the time. You don’t see chickens getting weird about humans eating them.”
My mom’s unexpected laughter tinkled through the air.
I stared in fascination at the woman who had masqueraded as an Arctic researcher for years.
She’d transformed into someone completely different.
Someone who laughed freely and whose eyes sparkled with magic when she summoned a dish from the center of the table without leaving her seat.
My dad set down his glass. “So, Cole. Tell me more about how you all helped Neve access her magic. I understand there were some... unique methods involved.”
I choked on a sip of water, remembering exactly what kind of “methods” had been employed.
Cole, bless his stoic heart, didn’t even blink. “We each took different approaches based on our strengths, sir. Finding activities that sparked joy seemed most effective. Ice skating. Cookie decorating. Christmas trees.”
“Snow forts.” Pierce’s expression was neutral despite there being nothing neutral about what happened there.
“Milk and cookies,” Kip said with a straight face.
Rudy slowly turned his head in Kip’s direction, and Kip’s smile faltered. I bit my lip, a little turned on by Rudy’s reaction and at the thought that Kip might have watched or heard.
“Tomorrow’s tree-lighting ceremony will be perfect for continuing your progress.” My mom beamed at me. “It’s always been one of your favorite things.”
I blinked rapidly, a bit disoriented. “Wait, tomorrow? What day is it?”
“November twenty-ninth.” My dad’s eyes crinkled with amusement.
“What?” I squeaked, pressing a hand to my forehead. “Everything’s been such a blur. It’s a good thing I never started celebrating Thanksgiving, or I’d be mad right now.”
Rudy’s hand squeezed my leg again, and my dad’s gaze followed the movement before rising to meet Rudy’s eyes. Something unspoken passed between them, and the atmosphere in the room shifted subtly.
“I think,” my dad began, slowly setting down his fork, “it’s time we discussed your intentions toward my daughter.”
I groaned, dropping my head into my hands. “Dad, I’m a grown-ass woman.”
“A grown woman who is powerful and has been surrounded by nine reindeer shifters who appear unusually... devoted.”
“With all due respect, sir,” Pierce said, his tone matter of fact, “we have every intention of being her sleigh team, but we’re also her mates and intend to bond with her.”
The table went silent. Even the elves serving food froze in place.
“Bond with me?” I hissed, kicking Pierce under the table, but he gave me a placid look that said he regretted nothing.
My mom set down her wine glass, her eyes widening as she looked at me. “With how they act around you, I thought you’d already completed the bonding ceremony right when you arrived.”
“We immediately came here when we landed, and a bonding ceremony?” I looked from my mom to the shifty-eyed men around me. “Does it involve me rubbing their antlers and singing Feliz Navidad or something?”
Don coughed violently while Blitz smothered what sounded suspiciously like a laugh.
“That’s not quite how it works.” A small smile played at the corner of her lips. “Though the antler part isn’t entirely off the mark.”
My dad looked like he’d bitten into a lemon. “Glimmera, please.”
My mom ignored him, leaning forward with gleaming eyes. “The bonding ritual is ancient magic. It requires absolute trust between two or more people. You would be connected by more than loyalty; your magic would intertwine with theirs.”
“So I’d be, what, magically married to all nine of them?” I couldn’t keep the squeak out of my voice. I had absolutely no interest in getting married.
I looked around at the nine faces watching me with expressions ranging from amusement to apprehension to something far more intense. They were serious about this.
Don moved his arm to the back of my chair, his fingers brushing my arm soothingly. “It’s a bit like the whole fated-mate thing. The connection already exists between us, and the ritual simply acknowledges what’s already there and magically ties us together.”
“Reindeer don’t bond with bites if that’s what you’re worried about.” Vix was trying to be reassuring but failed.
My dad cleared his throat. “Perhaps this is a discussion for another time.”
The look my mom shot him could have frozen fire. “Christopher.”
“There’s no rush.” My dad tugged at his collar. “She’s only just returned, and clearly they need to discuss this among themselves in private.”
“A mate bond will calm her magic,” my mom challenged. “When we bonded, my magic calmed substantially. Nine mate bonds would—”
“For the love of milk and cookies, can we please not talk about this?” I was pretty sure my face was red.
I wanted to reject having nine men tied to me for the rest of my life, but as dinner continued and the conversation moved on, I couldn’t stop myself from wondering what it would be like.