Just as I’m settling onto the couch in my sitting room, there’s a knock at my door. I’m not expecting anyone, so I step cautiously toward it. I pool light in my hand, then open it a crack. Thorne stands there, alone, grinning from ear to ear. He notices the light in my hand.

“I’m glad you’re taking precautions to defend yourself with what I taught you,” he says.

“Why are you here?” I ask, opening the door fully. Thorne’s eyes widen, and his gaze tracks up and down my body. Heat builds in his expression, his jaw going slack and his eyes dilating. “Hello? What are you doing?” I snap.

Thorne startles. “Well—uh—” He coughs, and I cross my arms over my chest in impatience, which only makes his gaze darken. “Uh, in Velmara, the Winter Solstice…” He moves his eyes to stare at something over my shoulder. “We celebrate by exchanging gifts. Silene has sent here me on strict orders to bring you with me.”

It finally hits me—I opened the door in my chemise, a short length of gauzy and nearly transparent fabric. I want to hide myself in shame. My mortification forces me to wave Thorne in before quickly turning and grabbing a robe draped over the couch. Thorne says nothing, though his gaze returns to my face now that my body is covered.

“In true Silene fashion,” he continues, “she’s somehow managed to organize a dinner for hundreds of people while also finding time to shop for gifts and help move said people into the palace. I’m merely a messenger, witchling. But I fear if I return without you, Silene may lose that chipper personality she’s so known for and rip my still-beating heart out from my chest. She’s learned a thing or two from the Witch Queen while in Thayaria.” He winks in that classic Thorne way.

Panic grips my gut. “But, I don’t have gifts for any of you. I—I didn’t know. It’s not something we do here in Thayaria,” I confess.

“You’ve already given us our gift.” When I look confused, he continues. “The greenhouse. It’s the best gift we could’ve asked for in this arctic wasteland. You weren’t kidding when you said it would get cold.”

“The cold gets worse,” I tell him absentmindedly, my mind racing. The greenhouse, while a gift of sorts, is not sufficient. “Come in and sit down for a moment,” I tell him before racing off.

I gather the things I need, stuffing them into a bag, then rush to my closet. I dress in warm trousers and a long-sleeved tunic, buttoning it up over my cleavage to make up for what he previously saw. Grabbing my bag, I motion for us to leave, then follow Thorne down the endless staircases.

“I can aerstep us,” I say grumpily. “I hate these stairs. I never take them.”