Chapter 29 Of Magic and Reindeer
Of Magic and Reindeer
Ijolted awake, heart pounding, with absolutely no idea where I was. The ceiling above me glittered with tiny, embedded crystals, like stars frozen in ice. For one wild moment, I thought I’d manifested a bizarre snow shark aquarium in my sleep.
Then it hit me: the North Pole. Santa’s castle. My home.
I sat up, running my hand over the silky sheets that practically hummed with enchantment. The room felt simultaneously foreign and achingly familiar, like a recurring dream I could never quite remember upon waking.
Something else felt different too. There was a strange tugging sensation in my chest, as if nine invisible threads were pulling me in various directions. I pressed my palm against my sternum, focusing on the feeling.
The guys. They weren’t in the castle.
I knew this with absolute certainty, the same way I knew it was snowing outside without looking through the frosted windows.
The awareness hummed through me like a low electrical current.
In Klarhaven, I’d felt drawn to them, but here.
.. here the pull was amplified, as if the veil had cranked our connection to eleven.
My hand drifted to the space beside me. They’d invited me back to their house, but at least for one night I wanted to be in the castle. Plus, I had a day jam-packed with Claus business.
Holy reindeer balls, I was going to be Santa Claus.
I wondered whether they would let me change the name. Something like Mistress of the Sleigh or Maiden of the Pole.
A soft knock interrupted my thoughts.
“Come in!”
My dad opened the door and stepped inside, looking significantly less exhausted than he had yesterday. “Good morning, snowflake. Sleep well?”
I nodded, momentarily overcome by the surreal nature of this conversation. Small talk with Santa. About sleeping arrangements in his magical ice castle.
Just a normal day in the North Pole.
“I thought you might like a tour.” He shifted his weight, thumbs hooked into the belt loops of completely normal jeans paired with another Jingle polo.
Thirty minutes later, I followed my dad down a long hallway attached to the castle and down a spiral staircase that opened into what could only be described as organized chaos.
The central workshop sprawled before us, a massive open space bustling with more activity than Times Square on New Year’s Eve.
Elves—not short caricatures but average-looking people with an ethereal quality and pointed ears—moved with purpose between workstations. Some wore practical coveralls with tool belts, while others donned more whimsical attire that shimmered with magic.
“Holy figgy pudding.” I gestured wildly at the chaos before us. “This is... this is...”
“Christmas magic in action.” He beamed with unmistakable pride. “This is the central hub. There are seventeen specialized workshops spread throughout the complex.”
As we descended the last steps, heads turned in our direction. Conversations faltered, tools paused mid-motion, and the noise level dipped noticeably.
A tall elf with braided lime-green hair approached, his eyes widening as he recognized me. He dropped into a formal bow, right fist pressed to his heart.
“Miss Neve.” His voice carried, causing a ripple effect as other elves turned to look. “The frost has returned to the mountain.”
I froze, momentarily panicked by the formality and attention. Several more elves abandoned their tasks, moving toward us with expressions ranging from curiosity to outright joy.
My dad’s hand settled on my shoulder. “They’ve been waiting for you to come home.”
The weight of those words settled over me as dozens of elves bowed or waved, their faces alight with a mixture of hope and wonder that I couldn’t possibly deserve.
“But I nearly destroyed everything.” I looked past the elves welcoming me to find several still working or outright glaring.
Admitting I’d nearly demolished Santa’s workshop felt like I’d replaced all the North Pole’s cocoa with lukewarm chamomile tea.
An elf with hair striped like a candy cane stepped forward, her gaze fixed on me. “The saplings that weather the harshest winters grow the strongest roots.” Her voice carried through the workshop. “You left as a frightened child, Neve North. You return a woman of magic and reindeer.”
My mouth opened and closed like a malfunctioning nutcracker. What was I even supposed to say to that—thanks, I guess I’m less destructive now, or don’t jinx it, I could still level this place?
“Frostwillow speaks the truth.” Dad squeezed my shoulder.
A few elves nodded sagely, though I noticed others remained skeptical, whispers passing between them like currents of cold air. I couldn’t blame them. Last time I’d been here, I’d apparently created the North Pole equivalent of a category-five hurricane.
The crowd parted like a shimmering sea, and my mom glided through, radiating composure. Her smile carried warmth that could melt permafrost.
“I see you’ve started the tour without me.” My mom kissed my dad’s cheek and then looped her arm through mine. “Chris, the scheduling committee needs you for the Southern Hemisphere adjustments… again.”
My dad’s eyes lingered on us both with affection before he nodded and turned to address the workshop. The elves immediately resumed their activities, the momentary celebrity sighting forgotten in favor of whatever Christmas magic they were cooking up.
Mom guided me through a series of increasingly complex hallways until we emerged into an open courtyard.
“This is your training arena.” She gestured to the space with a graceful sweep of her arm. “Perfect for containing... enthusiastic magic.”
I narrowed my eyes. “You mean it’s Neve-proof in case I go nuclear again.”
“I prefer to think of it as a space where you can fully express yourself.” Her lips quirked upward.
The courtyard sparkled, untouched snow covering every surface except a circular area in the center where the ground was bare stone etched with symbols I couldn’t decipher.
“Let me explain something about your heritage.” Mom positioned herself across from me in the circle.
“Your magic is unique. My magic is precise. It shapes, whispers, and guides.” She demonstrated by drawing her fingers through the air, leaving a trail of silver light that formed into a perfect snowflake.
“Your father’s magic is wild, abundant, and transformative. ”
“So, I’m basically the holiday version of a mood swing?”
Mom’s laughter echoed in the space. “More like having both a scalpel and a sledgehammer at your disposal. Today we’ll work on finesse.”
For the next hour, my mom guided me through exercises that made me feel like a magical kindergartener. Apparently, step one was breathing on command, step two was pretending my fingers were glow sticks, and step three was making a mental Pinterest board before letting the magic loose.
I tried creating a simple ball of light, which was a beginner elf trick. Instead, I got a blinding flash that sent snow exploding upward in a fifteen-foot radius.
Next came ice shaping. My dainty little snow sculpture idea resulted in an icicle spear impaling itself six inches into the ground.
I attempted to summon a gentle flurry, but I ended up encased to my knees in rapidly forming frost.
“Shit.” I struggled to free my legs, panic rising. “Mom, I can’t stop it!”
“Breathe, Neve.” She didn’t rush to help me, instead holding my gaze steadily. “Feel the connection between your emotions and your magic. They’re not separate entities; they’re extensions of each other.”
I closed my eyes, forcing air into my lungs. The frost crept higher, reaching my thighs.
“Remember who you are.” Her voice remained calm. “The North Pole recognizes who it’s gifted magic to. You belong here and are deserving of this magic.”
The pressure in my chest eased slightly, and the frost stopped advancing.
“Now recall a moment of pure joy.” Mom circled me slowly. “Not happiness, but joy. The kind that fills every corner of your being.”
My mind flashed to the nine men who’d become my unlikely guardians, and the frost began to recede.
“Perfect.” Mom’s approval warmed me further. “Now reshape it. You’re not destroying your magic; you’re redirecting it.”
I imagined the frost transforming, becoming something beautiful rather than threatening. Slowly, the ice coating my legs thinned, then reshaped itself into patterns that spiraled outward across the stone circle.
Mom clapped her hands. “Exquisite! My magic steadied after I bonded with your father. The emotional connection anchors the chaos and channels it purposefully.” She winked. “The physical aspects certainly don’t hurt either.”
“Mom!” I slapped my hands over my ears. “I do not need to hear about you and Dad getting it on to control magic!”
“Oh please, you’re nearly thirty with nine mates. I think we’re past blushing about intimacy.” She waved dismissively. “The point is, your connections with those men are already strengthening your control. That’s how you controlled it, right? You thought of them?”
I groaned but couldn’t deny she was right. Thinking of them had calmed the storm inside me almost instantly.
“Look there.” Mom gestured toward the far wall of the courtyard, where a section of crystal provided a clear view of the training fields beyond.
Nine reindeer moved in perfect synchronization across the snow, their powerful bodies executing whatever maneuvers they were working on. Even from this distance, I recognized them.
A physical ache bloomed beneath my ribs, like homesickness for the people standing right in front of me. My magic surged in response, but this time it wasn’t chaotic; it was a focused current flowing outward, reaching for them.
“The North Pole amplifies magical connections.” Mom’s voice softened. “What you’re feeling is normal for mates in proximity to each other.”