Chapter Thirty-Nine
The clock struck twelve, ushering in Christmas Day. After trimming the tree, they’d passed the hours in peaceful company—strolling in the winter air, playing cards, and stealing the occasional kiss beneath the mistletoe. Andrew felt utterly content.
The fire now crackled softly, casting a golden glow across the little room. He felt at peace as Isla sat by his side on the worn sofa, a blanket tucked over their knees.
Andrew cleared his throat and handed her a parcel. “I have something for you.”
He placed the small gift in her lap, carefully wrapped in brown paper and tied with string. Isla blinked, her fingers tracing the neat knot. She looked up at him, her amber eyes wide.
“Andrew ... you didn’t have to—”
“Of course I did,” he interrupted gently, a crooked smile on his lips. “Go on, open it.”
Unwrapping it slowly, she revealed a leather notebook. Flicking through it, she saw it was filled with Andrew’s handwriting, its cover embossed with a delicate ivy pattern. Inside, the first page bore an inscription in his tidy hand: My thoughts, my memories, my dreams.
“It’s beautiful,” she whispered, running her palm over the smooth leather. “But ... is this your diary?”
He nodded.
“And you want me to read it?”
“I do.”
“But isn’t that ... well, personal? Are you sure you want me to know all this?”
“I am.”
Isla went to open the first page, but he placed his hand over hers, stopping her.
“Andrew,” she laughed, “I thought you told me to read it.”
“There are rules.”
“Rules?”
“Yes. Rules. You must read one passage a day, starting from the end of the book, making your way back to the beginning.”
She looked at him, baffled.
“You have to promise me, Isla, or I’ll take the gift back.”
“You can’t take a gift back!”
He tickled her side and she squealed, laughing. “I absolutely can.”
“All right, all right—I promise. Backward, one passage at a time.”
He smiled, but behind the teasing, he could tell she knew he was serious about his request. The journal held everything—his feelings for her now, his memories of her across lifetimes, his hopes for their future. He wanted to marry her again, but he wouldn’t ask until she understood their history.
“I promise, Andrew. Thank you for your gift. I didn’t get you anything—I thought I’d be alone.”
The quiet pain in her voice made his chest ache.
“But,” she added, smiling, “you can share the carrot cake Juliette and I made.”
He lifted her arm, the one with the Sigil mark, and drew it to his lips.
His kiss landed gently against the inside of her wrist. “Thank you for agreeing to the terms.” He wrapped his other arm around her while still holding onto her wrist, his thumb gently skimming over her soft skin.
“I don’t need anything more than this. Though the carrot cake sounds delicious. ”
She sighed, the sound soft and content as she leaned against him.
“So, can I read the last entry now? With you?”
“Yes.” His voice came out quieter than he meant, and even he could hear the nerves in it.
Isla smiled faintly and gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. She wriggled a little, settling more comfortably against him before opening the journal to its final page.
“December twenty-third,” she read aloud.
His neat, slanted handwriting stared back at him as Isla’s voice filled the quiet room.
“Today I am preparing for my first Christmas with Isla here in York, and I cannot wait. It’s something I’ve dreamed of for the last couple of years, ever since she came here to work here.
When she first arrived, I had to ... engineer ways to cross paths with her.
Some of my methods I’m not entirely sure she appreciated, but now I can finally show her that all my annoying smugness and teasing was because I only wanted to spend time with her.
Juvenile, perhaps—but it meant I got to be near her.
And now I can be, without the pretense. I’m a lucky man.
Out of everyone in the world, she’s the one I want to spend this season with. And I’m grateful she finally knows about the Aetheric Arts—I want no more secrets between us. I hope, as she reads these pages, she’ll understand just how deeply I feel for her.
I’m smiling now, remembering the hug she gave me on the archery field after her first Summon. She’s extraordinary—always has been ... and I wouldn’t mind holding her again over Christmas. Having Isla in my arms—it feels like home.”
Isla laughed and lightly swatted his shoulder at his cheeky confession, then tucked her head against him.
“You’ve wanted to spend Christmas with me since I started working here?”
“Yes,” he said, without the faintest hesitation.
“And you thought annoying me for two years was the best way to cross paths?”
He gave a small, unapologetic shrug. “In my defense, it worked.” Andrew chuckled as she softly elbowed him. “It got your attention, didn’t it? Not my most sophisticated strategy ... but I’d say it worked out rather well.”
Isla looked up and smiled, half amused, half exasperated. “You really are impossible.”
“Possibly,” he said, grinning. “But hopefully you’ll still keep me around.”
They sat like that for a while, talking about little things. Soon her head lowered and rested against his chest, her breathing steady. He pulled the blanket tighter around them both, letting his cheek rest lightly against her hair.
And there, with snow falling silently beyond the frosted glass, they drifted into sleep together.