Page 25 of The Midwinter Mirror
“Astrali?” I ask just to prove I’m paying attention.
“No. Valandria. We’ve been helping Thanouq. He’s the heir to the throne and a griffin shifter, and—”
That’s just one freaking shifter too many.
I hold up my hand and shake my head. “No. No more. Time out.” I close my eyes and envision my brains splattered around the stable as my head spontaneously combusts. “I need to go lie down in a dark room. Right now.” Without waiting for an answer, I push myself to my feet and head to the door.
He calls after me. “There are lots of animals on Valandria, princess. You’d like it.”
And I leave.
Chapter 10
Hot Chocolate, Cold Truths
Zayne
It feels a bit like old times. Christmas Eve at the manor. It was a tradition for the family and me—from when I was ten years old, and by that time inseparable from Holly—to gather in the library for afternoon tea. As always, a huge Christmas tree stands in the corner, reaching right up to the ceiling, adorned in red and gold decorations. A log fire crackles in the hearth, filling the room with the smell of yew smoke.
Except, of course, it's not really at all like old times. I don't belong here anymore. And yeah, I can now change into a fucking great basilisk—that’s new. There’s also a gargoyle crouched under the Christmas tree, eating the chocolate decorations. That’s new as well. As I watch, his little clawed hand reaches up to the lower branches and tugs down one of the foil-wrapped chocolate coins. He catches my eye as he peels off the wrapper and shoves the chocolate into his mouth. I think it's fair to say that Grimlet likes chocolate.
Josh and Milo sit close together on the sofa. Josh is writing something on Milo's cast. They've become close friends. Holly’s mum told me that Tansy has been Milo's best friend for the last few years. Maybe I’ll need to take Milo with us as well, if only to keep Josh and Tansy happy.
Holly is ensconced in her favorite chair, staring at the flames. She's avoided looking directly at me since she stormed out of the stables yesterday. I’m not even trying to look away. I’m staring as much as I like. Unfortunately, just looking at her makes the blood rush to my dick. Not what you want for afternoon tea with the family.
An image of her naked flashes before my eyes.
Gods, she practically offered to blow me, and I went all noble and said we had to talk.
I must be crazy.
I shift in my chair, then glance up and catch Josh peering at me, then turning to look at Holly, then back at me. He waggles his eyebrows.
He knows me too well.
I slouch lower in my chair and will her to look at me. But nope. Not happening. And I know it’s nothing to do with the sex and everything to do with our talk afterward.
I get it. It's a lot to take in for her. The last few days must have been hard. But I realize something as I gaze at her from whereI'm leaning against the wall: she’s mine. Always was. Always fucking will be. Mine.
I'm not sure what that means or how I make it work, though I do know one thing: we’re not staying here in Elderfell.
And beneath all of it, a stomach-churning fear: that maybe I’m too late for Tansy and the other children. That they’re never coming back.
I should never have left Tansy here in Elderfell. At the time, I thought it was for the best. I may hate my aunt, but I can't deny that she loves Tansy. And I’d been a fifteen-year-old with no place to live, no money, no other family, fuck all, in fact. Not to mention my huge anger management issues at the time. Or the fact that I was seriously questioning my sanity.
What could I have done differently? I'd been powerless. I'd promised myself that I'd never feel that way again.
When I aged out of the foster system, I'd made a promise to myself that I would keep an eye on Josh and Amber and not leave them behind like I had with Tansy. And I’d kept that promise. And look where it got me.
Though I’m not sorry. In fact, I love my new life. And Josh has a chance at a real future on Valandria. Not the fucked-up life he had on Earth.
Right now, we're just waiting for Holly’s mum and dad to finish phoning around, checking to see if anything has changed. If the kids have miraculously turned up. Then we're having a meeting to make a plan on what to do next.
At that moment, the door opens, and they appear. Her dad is carrying a tray with hot chocolate—another Christmas Eve tradition. He places it on the table and then hands them around. There's even a small Grimlet-sized mug. He downs it in one go, licks his lips, and peers around for more.
“Did you find anything?” Holly asks in a quiet voice, as though she already knows the answer but can't help asking anyway.
Her mum shakes her head. “Nothing. Nobody's seen or heard a thing. They're gone.” Her eyes are red from crying, but she stiffens her shoulders. She's tough, but then she’s been through tragedy as well, like the rest of us—like just about everybody in this shitty village.
