“No, Lucas. You don’t understand—”

“That’s him!” A new voice entered the woods, and an elk-antlered woman pointed at Lucas with a crooked finger. “That’s the sputtlepun who stole my rings!” Ten plus one men blocked the path back to the village. They wore long, emerald capes and wood armour with silver axes and tight-strung bows in their grips.

“Well. Frostbite,” Lucas muttered, and the ice slithered back into his Patrol staff.

The men’s eyes fastened on Lucas as they came, but Eliot rushed between them, a single finger raised, nose in the air.

“Halt. I demand it,” he said, and the soldiers slowed. “I am an emissary for the Second King of the East. I’m expected at Timber Castle in an hour or three, so I forbid you from arresting my guardsman and…guardslady. A simple apology from my sticky-fingered guard should do, even if his actions are,” Eliot risked a glare at Lucas, “revolting.”

The woods turned quiet, and Eliot raised a brow at Lucas.

It took Lucas a pinch. “Oh…” he said when he realized his part to play. “Yes. I apologize. Though, unmerry lady, you should consider carrying your rings in a satchel next time, not in your wide open, gaping pocket—”

“There you have it. Now, the snow globe has been shaken, so we’ll scuttle off now before the storm rolls in,” Eliot stated.

“You are the emissary for the Second King of the East?” one of the men asked, tapping a large finger against his axe and eyeing Eliot’s expensive coat. “You do not look like a folk of the East.”

“I am the emissary. My guardsman is carrying the two tins of frankincense I was given by the Second King as gifts for the Queen of the Pines.” Eliot’s words were clipped, and Lucas reluctantly reached into his pockets to produce the brass tins.

“How about a personal escort to the castle, then?” the man said. Men moved in and took Lucas and Kaley by their arms as Eliot fumbled through an indecipherable protest.

THE SEVENTH

THE SEVENTH

The last time I spoke to my brother, Winston, was Christmas Eve last year. He hadn’t been with us for Christmas day, he hadn’t been there to receive his blanket knitted by Theresa, he hadn’t come home for Christmas supper. In fact, he hadn’t come home at all.

The last words he’d said to me before he disappeared into the night on Christmas Eve were, “Stay away from me.”

I thought he was just in a bad mood and was annoyed that I’d been right about Winter. I didn’t realize that when he told me to stay away, he meant, “Don’t follow me. Don’t come looking for me.”