Chapter 8 Alix
ALIX
Between my stress about my mother and concern about the missing children, I almost forgot to panic over my wedding. Almost.
I eventually suggested that we all take a trip into the village to get my mother out of the house, which was when Beatrix remembered she had to stay and supervise the decorating, and Odessa reminded me that my dress still needed to be taken back to the seamstress if I wanted the final alterations finished before the wedding.
I went upstairs to find the dress, and that’s when all my stress came rushing back at once.
My wedding is barely a day away, and the snow is getting worse; I have no idea where Daemon is; and to make matters worse, my dress is a disaster.
I swear to God, I remember Daemon being careful, but obviously “careful” wasn’t enough because my beautiful, gold dress looks like crinkled old crape paper.
The grumpy seamstress is going to actually murder me. It might not even matter, because at this rate, the wedding feels cursed.
It could be worse…right?
Bracing myself, I gather up the dress and pile it, along with Dessa, Aurelia, Nana, and my mother, into the back of a horse-drawn sleigh.
The sleigh is a bright, shiny red metal, and I chose it specifically because it reminded me of Hallmark Christmas movies, but I never pictured driving it in an actual blizzard.
“If I use magic to keep the snow off us, will your mother start screaming again?” Aurelia whispers in my ear.
I weigh the odds. “Yeah, probably…but do it anyway.”
She grins and starts using her hands to direct the cold sleet away from us. She looks like she’s doing some sort of interpretive dance about wind, and my mom pointedly ignores her as we set off for the village.
Our sleigh glides downhill, the runners carving twin paths through untouched snow. Spread out below us, Storia is lit up like a Christmas card, with golden windows glowing like candles in the night.
“Doesn’t it look like Santa’s village, Mom?” I ask over the howling wind.
My mother clutches her coat collar tight. “It’s as cold as The North Pole—I’ll give you that.”
I roll my eyes. Due to Aurelia’s dancing, it’s perfectly comfortable in the sleigh, but my mom seems determined to hate everything.
We pass through the center of town and the seamstress’s shop appears around the bend, its windows glowing amber against the gathering dusk. I stop the horses right outside and jump out, my crumpled dress bundled in my arms and protected from the weather by a bedsheet.
A bell jingles as I push open the door to the shop.
Instead of the stern-faced woman I’d been dreading, only her assistant—a girl barely sixteen with pins stuck in her collar—looks up from behind the counter.
She immediately darts out to greet me, falling into a deep curtsey. “Welcome, Your Majesty.”
It’s not “Your Majesty” yet, but I don’t waste time correcting her. “Hi! I’m looking for Nerine?”
“I’m so sorry. Madam Nerine left an hour ago,” she says, brushing a loose strand of hair from her forehead.
I bite back a groan. “Do you know where I can find her?”
“She’s at the schoolhouse, fitting the children for their procession outfits—for your wedding.”
“Alexandria, why are there school children in your wedding procession?”
I jump nearly a foot in the air and spin around. I hadn’t noticed my mom following me inside, and now she’s glaring at me with renewed suspicion.
The shop girl, clearly eager to be helpful, cuts in. “It’s a royal tradition, ma’am.”
“Royal?” My mother says, sounding horrified. “Who is royal?”
I put a hand over my eyes. Great. For once, I actually don’t think this could get worse.
“Thank you for your help,” I say begrudgingly to the assistant as I walk back out of the shop, my mother hot on my heels.
Mom peppers me with questions all the way to the new schoolhouse, until finally Nana takes pity on me and cuts in. “Iris, leave it alone. I mean it.”
My mom turns her ire on her own mother instead, and I breathe a weary sigh.
Dessa pats my leg sympathetically. “Just focus on the honeypot. You’re so close.”
“Honeymoon,” I correct her, smiling.
“Whatever. Same thing.”
I shrug. “Yeah, I guess it kind of is.”
We arrive at the schoolhouse and find it nearly empty, which isn’t really surprising for the late hour.
A single lamp burns in the classroom at the end of the hall, casting long shadows across miniature desks.
Inside, Madam Merriweather sits beside Nerine, fabric and pins scattered between them.
At our entrance, Merriweather’s face lights up, her chair scraping loudly as she springs upward.
Nerine, however, purses her lips and slowly sets down her scissors, eyes flicking pointedly to the bundled dress in my arms like I’m carrying a bomb.
“Hi,” I begin. “Sorry to bother you—”
“Not at all, Your Majesty,” the teacher gushes.
Behind me, my mother’s loud whisper carries throughout the room. “Alright, that’s it. Is anyone going to explain the ‘royalty’ issue, or am I just meant to draw my own conclusions?”
“Come on, Iris,” Nana sighs. “Let’s go back to the carriage. I’ll answer all your questions.”
They leave and Madam Merriweather worries her lip, looking over my shoulder after them. “I’m sorry, was it something I said?”
“Not at all, she’s just…adjusting.” I grimace. “Anyway, I was actually hoping to speak with Nerine about my dress. I’m so sorry I wasn’t able to finish our fitting this morning. I was wondering if there was any way you could still finish this?”
She purses her lips. “Did you sit down in it after I told you not to?”
I flush. “I mean…something like that.”
She glares. “Give it to me, it’s not safe with you anyway.”
I hand over the dress, unsure if that means that she’s going to finish it, or just that she thinks I don’t deserve to wear it in the first place…probably the latter, the way things have been going today.
“I’m glad you came by,” Madam Merriweather says, angling her body to block out Nerine’s scowling face.
“I’m so sorry,” I immediately blurt. “I know I should have come to see the children’s practice for the procession earlier. I’m sure they’re going to do great.”
“Oh, it’s not about that,” she waves me off. “I haven’t heard if Archer and Gwen were found yet. Did the king bring them back?”
“Actually, no. Not yet.”
Her face falls. “Oh no. I hope they’re all alright, it’s been hours.”
“You don’t know Daemon or the guys, I’m sure they’re fine,” I say, half to convince myself as well as her. I am sure they’re fine…but still, they’ve been gone much longer than I expected…
“The witch probably got them!” Nerine interrupts. “Even a king would be a fool to go after her. I bet after hibernating all year she doesn’t care who she eats.”
My eyes widen in alarm. “Excuse me—”
“Don’t listen to her, Alix,” Dessa says flatly, stepping forward to stand beside me. “This is ridiculous. There’s no witch in those woods.”
“Believe whatever you want,” Nerine says dismissively.
“I think she’s the witch,” Aurelia mutters under her breath as we leave.
I laugh, but it’s slightly forced. I glance up at the dark sky as we step out of the schoolhouse. “It is getting really late…when did you say they left again?”
“Right after you did,” Dessa answers, her brow wrinkling slightly. “Maybe you’re right. Even accounting for the weather...”
“I’m sure they’re fine,” I blurt out. “…but maybe we should at least check? They might want a ride back to the manor in the sleigh at the very least.”
Dessa looks relieved and to my surprise, even Aurelia nods in fervent agreement.
My mother agrees to behave herself for an hour while Dessa, Aurelia, and I are gone and we drop her and Nana off at the manor before venturing out into the dark woods.
Odessa is the best with horses, having been riding most of her life, so we let her take the reins. Aurelia sits beside her, still waving her arms to keep the snow away, and I sit in the back seat feeling a little guilty that I can’t do more to help.
Admittedly, if I weren’t so anxious I would probably enjoy the sleigh ride.
Snow pelts the sleigh like tiny fists, but I don’t feel the cold wind—just a gentle warmth radiating from where Aurelia’s fingertips trace invisible patterns in the air.
Twin lanterns cast yellow pools that bounce and sway ahead of us, barely penetrating the darkness.
Every time we pass over a snow drift, the horses’ bridle bells jingle merrily.
We ride in silence for a while but don’t see any sign of the guys or any missing kids. Finally, I voice the thing I can’t stop thinking about since Nerine put it in my head: “Okay, I know this sounds stupid, but I just have to ask. Is there really a Yule witch?”
Aurelia gnaws on her lip. “I mean, technically anything is possible. You can’t prove she doesn’t exist.”
“Yes you can. I’m telling you there’s no witch,” Dessa says flatly. “Fae don’t have that many kids. If we really lost children every single Yule there wouldn’t be any left. Anyway, the word ‘witch’ doesn’t even describe the creature in the stories.”
“How so?” I ask.
“‘Witch’ is a human word,” Aurelia explains. “Witch, sorceress, enchantress…they’re all words we use to describe humans who have magic but no Fae ancestry.”
“I’ve heard you called a sorceress before,” I point out.
“My mother was one, but I’m not. I have Fae magic and trained to use it just like any other Fae.”
My brow furrows. I’m certainly not the expert on Fae anything, even after living here for two years, but it’s always been clear to me that Aurelia had different magic than Daemon or Kastian. I want to ask her more about it, but Dessa cuts in before I can.
“The ‘Yule witch’ is just a legend,” Dessa insists. “But even if she was real, the creature in the stories sounds like something else to me. A shapeshifter maybe? Or some kind of hag…not that I believe she really exists.”
I laugh darkly. “That doesn’t make me feel better.”
“Don’t worry,” Aurelia says. “Wouldn’t you both know if Daemon or Kastian were really in trouble? You’d feel it, right? I don’t feel anything, so they’re all probably fine.”
“Why would you feel anything?” Dessa asks with a shrewd smile.
Aurelia looks startled and for a second I feel a real gust of winter air as her temperature spell falters. “I wouldn’t! Not like that…I just mean I’m really good at reading people.”
Dessa and I look at each other, sharing an identical suspicious look.
“Okay, that’s some bullshit,” I blurt out. “What did you really mean?”
Before Aurelia can answer, Dessa abruptly pulls back on the reins and the entire sleigh leaps, nearly toppling all of us into the snow.
“—the fuck!” I yell.
“Sorry!” Dessa exclaims. “I thought I saw something.”
I catch myself on the side of the sleigh and peer in the direction she’s pointing.
For several long moments I don’t see anything except endless snow drifts and half buried trees. Then, something moves along the ground, disrupting the snow.
I gasp and reel back. Something is barreling straight at us, moving with surprising speed and utter disregard for its own safety. For one completely ridiculous second, I think it’s a wolf; or worse, the witch. Then, a heavy gray blur launches itself at me.
“Sushi?” I yelp, half in disbelief, half in horror.
Nana’s enormous gray cat hurls himself at the sleigh and misses entirely, rolling into a snowdrift before he lets out a yowl of such stunning volume that even the horses flinch.
“What the—” Odessa starts, but I’m already jumping off the sleigh, ignoring the way my boots fill instantly with freezing snow. I scoop up Sushi, who is, as usual, ungrateful and claws my arm for the effort.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” I scold the cat, “Go home. Go back to Nana. Why are you even here?”
The cat blinks at me with glacial, bottomless contempt in his yellow eyes. Then, like he’s just remembered somewhere he needs to be, he jumps out of my grasp and bolts straight into the trees.
“God fucking dammit!”
I tear after him. My legs burn with each step through the snow, the powder spilling over my boot tops and melting against my ankles. Behind me, I hear the creak of the sleigh as Dessa and Aurelia leap down, their curses punctuating each labored breath as they follow.
Sushi’s gray tail flicks back and forth over the top of the snow, taunting us as we stumble over hidden roots and sink into drifts that swallow us to mid-thigh.
“Sushi!” I yell.
“He’s a cat, he’s not going to come if you call him,” Dessa pants.
I run around a patch of underbrush and stop short.
Sushi has stopped running and meows loudly as he stares up at me expectantly. More surprising, he’s not alone.
There’s a blonde little girl standing in the snow. She’s pale and wild-eyed, her face streaked with tears. Sushi wraps his body around her legs, purring loudly enough that I can hear it over the wind.
“Are you Gwen?” I ask, excitement and relief flooding me.
The girl doesn’t answer as without warning she hurls herself straight into my arms.