Chapter 13
Pippa
I was halfway up the ladder, fighting with garlands that kept drooping like sad little eyebrows, humming some cheerful carol under my breath. The Festival crowd was too busy with their mulled wine to notice my one-woman show.
My hands worked automatically, weaving silver thread through pine boughs, but my mind was elsewhere.
On steel-gray eyes that stripped away pretense.
On amber-gold ones that danced with mischief.
On Callen's mouth against mine in the archives—controlled, then desperate.
On Jarek's hands mapping my waist like he was memorizing claimed territory.
Holiday flings, I told myself firmly, securing another garland. Seasonal fun. Nothing more.
The excuse was wearing thinner than tissue paper. Because holiday flings didn't make your chest tight when you thought about them leaving. They didn't make you wonder what it would feel like to wake up between them, all warm limbs and sleepy kisses and—
No. I yanked the garland tighter than necessary, sending pine needles raining down.
This was exactly what I'd watched destroy my mother.
Falling for someone—or someones—who'd eventually get bored and wander off to chase their next adventure.
Dad had been charming too. Had made her feel special, chosen, until the day he decided freedom was more appealing than family.
I wouldn't be her. Wouldn't lose myself in pretty words and prettier kisses, only to wake up hollow when they inevitably left. Holiday flings were safe because they had expiration dates. Clean endings. No messy feelings or broken promises.
Except these didn't feel clean anymore. They felt... complicated. Dangerous.
Focus, Pippa. Garlands. Not fantasies.
Then someone jostled the base.
The world tilted. My stomach dropped as my feet slipped, the ladder swaying beneath me. I grabbed for the garland but my fingers closed on air. The ground rushed up to meet me, and I had just enough time to think this is going to hurt before—
I landed on my feet. Perfectly balanced. Which should've been impossible from that angle, except—
"Oh, you've got to be kidding me."
The mistletoe. Of course it was the bloody mistletoe.
A ribbon of pure gold light exploded from the innocent-looking sprig hanging directly above me, spiraling through the air like it had a mind of its own.
It looped once around my waist, twice around my shoulders, and settled into place with the smug satisfaction of a cat claiming the best sunny spot.
I tried to step forward. The ribbon held firm—not tight enough to hurt but absolutely unyielding. I was trapped in a glowing circle about three feet across, with the mistletoe hovering above me like a tiny, vindictive crown.
"What the—"
A nearby water nymph dissolved into giggles. "Oh, it's a couple's charm! Those are so rare!" She clasped her hands together like she was watching dinner theater. "It won't release until you're kissed by the one you hold closest in your heart."
A goblin teenager with purple-streaked hair piped up from the gathering crowd, "Or more than one, if your heart's greedy!"
My cheeks went supernova. No. Nope. Absolutely not.
"That's not—this is just a malfunction," I called out, tugging at the ribbon. It pulsed with warm, entirely too knowing light. "Stupid enchanted decorations. I knew we should've gone with the boring ones."
The crowd was growing. Someone started taking bets.
My magic flickered with panic, little sparks dancing around my fingertips.
This was a nightmare. A public, humiliating nightmare that was about to expose every complicated feeling I'd been trying to bury.
The ribbon pulsed brighter, responding to my emotional turmoil, and I wanted to sink through the cobblestones.
I scanned the crowd desperately, looking for an escape route that didn't exist. Someone—anyone—who could step forward and break this stupid charm without it meaning anything. But my eyes kept searching for two specific faces, and that was the problem, wasn't it?
My gaze found Callen just a few feet away. I could see the exact moment confusion shifted to understanding in his dark eyes, then to something that looked dangerously like possessive certainty. His hands came out of his pockets.
"The charm responds to emotional truth," he said, his voice low but clear enough for me to hear. He stepped forward without hesitation, closing the distance with deliberate confidence. "And I know exactly what mine is telling me."
My heart forgot how to beat.
He crossed into the ribbon's boundary like he owned the space, like there had never been any question he belonged there. "Pippa." His voice was rough. His hands came up to frame my face, thumbs brushing over my cheekbones.
The kiss was confident from the first touch, claiming and certain.
Like he'd made his choice and wasn't interested in second-guessing it.
His mouth moved against mine with controlled hunger that made my knees forget their primary function, and when I melted into him, his arms came around me like he'd been waiting for exactly this permission.
The ribbon pulsed, shifting slightly—but it didn't release.
When we broke apart, both breathing hard, I could see the realization hit him. The charm was still there. Still glowing. Still very much not satisfied with his kiss alone.
"Well," said a familiar voice from somewhere behind the crowd. "Looks like our little pixie's heart is more complicated than she lets on."
The sea of onlookers parted like a curtain, and Jarek emerged with predatory grace. He didn't saunter—he stalked, amber eyes locked on the scene before him with laser focus. The crowd seemed to sense the shift in energy, conversations dying as he approached.
When he reached the ribbon's edge, he paused for exactly one heartbeat—long enough for the tension to coil tight—then stepped into our circle like he was claiming territory that had always been his.
"Hope you don't mind sharing the stage, mage," Jarek said, voice pitched low but carrying clearly. "Seems like the magic has opinions about what our girl needs."
Callen's jaw tightened, but he didn't step back. If anything, he seemed to settle more firmly into place, like he was claiming his ground. "The charm responds to emotional truth. I'm not going anywhere."
"Good." Jarek's grin was sharp, challenging. "Neither am I."
"Jarek." The space felt impossibly small now, charged with tension that had nothing to do with the charm and everything to do with the way these two men seemed to orbit around me—and each other—like binary stars caught in the same gravitational pull.
"Hi," he said softly, just for me.
"Hi yourself," I managed.
His kiss was different from Callen's—playful at first, a tease of lips and breath that made me chase him for more. But when I did, when I rose up on my toes and met him properly, it deepened into something certain and claiming and absolutely devastating.
The ribbon pulsed again, brighter this time—
Golden light flared around us like a small sun going nova.
The ribbon unwound with a flourish, spiraling upward in a shower of sparks before dissolving into glittering confetti that rained down on the cheering crowd.
The mistletoe above us crumbled to ash and drifted away on a breeze that tasted like cinnamon and magic.
The crowd erupted—delighted laughter, knowing looks, a few scandalized gasps from the more traditional fae.
Someone threw actual confetti. But the applause and cheering felt distant, muffled, because all I could focus on was the fact that it had taken both of them.
Both kisses. Both men standing in this circle with me for the charm to break.
What did that mean? What did it say about me that my heart apparently couldn't choose between them—didn't want to choose?
The crowd began to disperse now that the show was over, their chatter fading as they drifted back to their wine and festivities. But the three of us didn't move. Couldn't move, maybe.
Because suddenly, it was quiet. And Callen and Jarek were looking at each other—really looking—for the first time since this whole ridiculous situation started.
I held my breath, waiting for the posturing. The territorial nonsense. The inevitable clash of Alpha personalities that would leave me playing referee while they sorted out who got to—
"Interesting technique," Callen said mildly, like he was commenting on the weather. "The ribbon responded to emotional resonance, not just physical contact."
Jarek's grin didn't dim, but it shifted into something more curious than cocky. "Yeah? You know much about couple's charms?"
"Some. They're old magic. Fae-wrought, usually." Callen tilted his head fractionally, studying Jarek with the same intensity he brought to ancient texts. "Most modern mages can't craft them properly. Too much theory, not enough instinct."
"Fox magic runs on instinct," Jarek said, and there was respect in his voice now, genuine interest. "But the binding patterns—those take serious skill to anchor. Someone knew what they were doing when they enchanted this place."
They were... talking. Actually talking. Not circling each other like wolves fighting over territory, but discussing magical theory like colleagues who just happened to find themselves in the same fascinating puzzle.
"The Festival decorations were sourced from the Winter Court," Callen continued, and I watched in dumbstruck amazement as his usual rigid posture eased slightly. "High Fae work. They probably keyed the charms to emotional truth rather than conscious choice."
"Sneaky," Jarek said approvingly. "I like it. No lying to yourself when the magic can taste your feelings."
"Precisely." Something that might've been a smile ghosted across Callen's mouth. "Though I suspect our librarian didn't expect quite this level of... complexity."
They both looked at me then, and I felt my cheeks heat again. Because they weren't looking at me like a prize to be won or a problem to be solved. They were looking at me like... like I was the center of something that made sense to both of them.
The realization hit me like a physical blow, stealing my breath. My pulse hammered against my throat as something deep in my chest cracked open, spilling warmth through my veins.
Oh.
I touched my lips without thinking, still tingling from both kisses. But it wasn't the physical sensation that left me breathless—it was the way these two men, so completely different, seemed to fit in the same space. With me. Around me.
Like puzzle pieces I hadn't known were missing.
My magic stirred at the base of my spine, playful and warm and just a little terrified. Because something had shifted in the last few minutes. Something fundamental and irreversible.
The ribbon was gone, but the connection it had revealed—that was still there. And I wasn't ready for it.