A Fantasy Christmas

by Cindy Bennett, Sherry Gammon, Stephanie Fowers

Kara’s jaw dropped then snapped shut. “Do you always have to be such a—” She clamped her mouth shut. Why did he prod her to such meanness?

  “I’m kidding,” he said. “I came to see if you wanted to go for a walk.”

  “Why?” she blurted.

  “Don’t worry; it’s business.” Remoteness shuttered his face as he stared at the doorframe, not meeting her eyes. “I have some ideas I want to go over with you.”

  “Oh. Um.” She glanced back into her cottage, as if the answer to his question could be found there.

  “Do . . . do you have someone there?” he asked, taking a step back. “I’ll just talk to you tomorrow, then.”

  “No,” she said quickly, holding a hand toward him as if she could stop him with the gesture. Oddly, he sounded upset, which was reason enough to let him go. Honestly, she preferred to get outside for a while, even if it was with such a grump. “Hold on, just let me grab my coat.” She came back as she pulled it on. “Let’s go.”

  He shoved his hands in his pockets as they walked past his sled in the road. Was she so wrapped up in stretching her wings that she hadn’t heard him drive up? Not good. What if he’d just opened her door? It would be highly unusual for an elf to be so rude, but if anyone would, Seb would.

  “So?” she prompted.

  The snow crunched lightly beneath their feet, glistening in the moonshine. “I’ve been thinking about the logistics of the floor,” he said. “In order for it to have the lighting we want, we need to suspend it. That means building it a little higher off the ground than we planned.”

  They talked back and forth about how it would work. Seb thought they’d need an appointment with the engineer to finalize the plans once they decided on the flooring. They’d need to meet with an engineer at each part of the building process to make sure they could proceed as they wanted.

  Kara didn’t understand why Seb needed to discuss this with her. It wasn’t anything new that she didn’t already know.

  “Was there something else?” she asked after they walked in silence for a few minutes.

  Seb stopped short and she faced him. The moon lit Seb from behind, throwing a halo around his dark hair. Even in the shadow, his blue eyes stood out, two sapphire jewels glowing in the night. He was tall, even for an elf, something she knew from the moment she’d first seen him. Now, standing in front of him in the moon’s reflective light, she realized just how much taller he was. Not just taller, but broader, too, in a very real, very tangible way. She’d certainly been attracted to other elves before, in the South, in spite of the fact that she knew nothing real could ever happen with any of them. But never before had she felt the gut-deep pull she felt to Seb. She only wished he weren’t so dang gorgeous!

  He shuffled the snow around with one foot, dropping his eyes. “I just . . . we have to work together, and spend a lot of time together, so I thought . . . sometimes, the way you look at me…” He looked up at her. “Kind of like you’re looking at me now.” She blinked and tried to adopt a completely neutral expression. She had a suspicion she failed miserably. “There can’t be . . . I’m not interested in . . . getting involved . . .”

  As his words slowly sank into her psyche, she realized what he was saying—or rather, trying to say. She bristled, her wings quivering against her back. She scoffed—loudly. His eyes widened at the sound. Even in the shadows, it was clear.

  “Are you kidding?” She laughed, not an ounce of humor in it. “You think I’m . . .? Please!” She pulled away, walking back toward her cottage. She might be in absolutely no position to even consider someone romantically, but for him to basically tell her no possible way . . . it hurt.

  Kara heard his quick footsteps as he jogged to catch up. “Look, I’m sorry if it sounds—”

  She whirled on him. “It sounds ridiculous.” She jabbed a finger into his chest. His very solid chest. She withdrew her hand as if burned. “Guess you can’t imagine any girl who wouldn’t just be falling all over herself for you, huh?”

  She swung away again, stalking through the snow. This time he kept pace with her.

  “If I misread your looks, I’m sorry. It’s just that you don’t look at other—”

  “And you know me well enough to know how I look at other people?” she half-yelled, not looking his way.

  “You don’t look at Blue that way, even when he’s so clearly hitting on you.”

  “Look at him like . . .” She huffed, mainly because she knew he spoke the truth, and embarrassment flooded her. She should have known she was being too obvious in her admiration for his beauty. That’s all she admired, and though it was blinding at times, she should have kept her thoughts from her face. Sometimes she hated that the only thing she seemed capable of hiding was her cursed wings.

  “I’m sorry.” He sounded anything but. “I don’t mean to offend. I just wanted to make sure we were clear . . .”

  Kara’s anger drained. He was right. She hated that he was right, but that didn’t change the fact that he was. He might be a jerk sometimes, but at least he was honest. That was something she could admire. Besides his face. And those eyes. And his broad shoulders. And muscular arms. She shook her head and her steps slowed until they were walking a normal pace. They walked in silence until her cottage came into view.

  “Kara,” he said. “I’m—”

  “Please,” she said, holding a hand up to stop his words, not looking his way. “Don’t apologize again. It doesn’t suit you.” Then realizing her rudeness, she gritted her teeth. “That was uncalled for. Sorry. It doesn’t matter. You were only saying what you thought.”

  “But, I—”

  “I’ll see you tomorrow.” She jogged the last little bit to her cottage, ducked inside and slammed the door. Slumped against the door, she blinked and a rogue tear rolled down her cheek. Silently cursing her stupid girly-ness, she pushed away from the door. When she heard his sled start up, she stripped off her coat and threw it angrily to the floor.

  Chapter Seven

  It was a humble Kara who stood outside their workroom the next day. With some distance, she realized her overreaction. Seb had hurt her pride, and she’d reacted with anger. She peeked around the door to see him hunched over the drawing table, his brows furrowed in concentration. Cowardly, she quietly entered. Behind her back she clutched some sugar cookies she’d made for him by way of apology.

  Seb glanced up as the door closed, and Kara could swear he looked abashed as well.

  “Hi,” she said with a small smile.

  “Hi.” He stood straight and cleared his throat. “Listen, Kara, I—”

  “Please don’t apologize again.” She moved quickly to the opposite side of the table. “You don’t need to. I reacted badly, and it’s me who should be apologizing.”

  Silence descended.

  “I’m afraid I didn’t use enough tact . . .”

  “I shouldn’t have thrown such a tantrum . . .” she said at the same time. The both trailed off, grinning.

  Kara shrugged with a small laugh. She held the plate of cookies toward him. “Peace offering?”

  He laughed loudly. Kara was struck again by the transformation in him when he did so. His eyes sparkled instead of taunted. He looked like all of the pure, glittering, joyous things of Christmas in elf form. Seb turned to the table behind him and held a plate of cinnamon rolls her way. “I was going to say the same thing.”

  Kara laughed and they exchanged plates. Without a word, he bit into a cookie and she took a bite of a cinnamon roll. It was delicious.

  “You made these?” she asked.

  “Don’t sound so surprised,” he said.

  “Well, I just . . . you don’t seem like . . . they’re amazing,” she finished lamely.

  “They should be,” he said. Kara gritted her teeth against his arrogance, which dissipated as he finished with, “I got them from Nancy.”

  “Nancy? The dour-faced woman from the big house?”

  “Dour-faced?” he repeated, looking thou
ghtful. “I’ve never thought of her that way. She’s always cheerful and pleasant.”

  “To you,” Kara said. She took another bite of the scrumptious pastry. No wonder it was so good if it came from the big house—only the most creative bakers were assigned there. Her mouth would have watered at the remembrance of the hot chocolate if it weren’t stuffed with sweet bread. She swallowed and said, “You ooze charm all over her, how can she be anything but pleasant?”

  Seb grinned knowingly and Kara shook her head at him. She finished the cinnamon roll, then licked her fingers. Seb had polished off nearly all the cookies.

  “Seb, I shouldn’t have acted that way. I’m no more interested in getting involved than you are. Not with you, not with anyone.”

  He nodded as if he understood. Then, almost as an afterthought, as if it were expected, said, “Why not?”

  She studied him. He shifted beneath her gaze. “Do you know why I came here from the South Pole?”

  He shrugged and dropped his eyes, picking up one of the drawing pencils and looking at the paper with suddenly great interest. “A promotion, I would assume.”

  “A promotion doesn’t send someone from Upper Production to Early Production.”

  His eyes flitted up to her briefly before returning to the drawing. He had yet to make a single new marking. “Probably just a miscommunication. Look at you now. You’re working on this project. That doesn’t happen to just any elf.”

  Kara debated for one reckless moment of telling him the truth, unfurling her wings and showing him what was both a gift and a curse. Mostly a curse. Then she got a grip and realized she didn’t know him well enough to know his reaction, or who he might tell. She couldn’t risk another banishment.

  “Dumb luck,” she said instead. “Or maybe the Big Guy felt bad for me.”

  “Why would he feel bad for you?” he asked, then held up a hand. “Never mind, none of my business. This, however,” he waved a hand over the drawing, “is and we should get to work.”

  Kara couldn’t decide if she was grateful he didn’t push for an answer, or if she wished he would so someone could share her burden. Realizing the selfishness of her desire, she said, “Thanks, Seb.”

  “Mm-hm,” he mumbled, as if it weren’t even important enough for a full response. “So I had an idea that we could run lighted strips up the poles in the corners . . .” He trailed off, and without lifting his eyes, said, “Did you leave family behind?”

  Tears stung Kara’s eyes. She dug her nails into her palms, willing them to remain unfallen. “My father and three sisters.”

  Seb nodded once. Abruptly he folded the paper in half. “There’s something I want to show you.”

  “What?” she questioned, grateful for the change in subject. Her heart ached at the thought of them.

  “We have to go on the sled, though.”

  Kara immediately wanted to say no, but the look on his face—half hopeful, half fearful of her rejection—changed her mind. “You’ll go slow?”

  “I promise.” He held up a hand.

  “We can’t walk, then?”

  “It’s too far. In fact, we should probably pack a lunch.”

  “A field trip.” She recalled the many trips they took as young elfin students while in training.

  He shrugged. “Sure.” His gaze dropped to her thin sweater. “Go get your coat and I’ll pick you up.”

  Kara jogged to her house, curious about what he wanted to show her that would cause him to be willing to leave their work. Of course, maybe it had something to do with their work. She hadn’t thought of that. Oh well, either way it would be fun to get away for the day. Even if it was on a sled.

  The ride wasn’t as bad as she’d anticipated. Something about being behind the very real bulk of Seb made her feel more secure than usual. Not that the feeling of security kept her from clinging to him as if he were a life raft and she adrift in the sea. Still, it wasn’t as terrifying as the first time with him. She was able to peel her arms from around him within thirty seconds of arriving rather than long minutes.

  He turned to face her when she released him, and she tried, really she did, to school her features into something resembling calm. He peered at her with worry lining his eyes.

  “You really hate riding on these things, don’t you?”

  “U-u-um,” she cleared her throat, embarrassed at the shakiness. “I mean, no, you know, it’s… it’s fine. I’m fine.”

  One side of his mouth lifted sardonically.

  “Seriously, I’m fine,” she said as if he’d argued with her. She stood, her knees buckling a little. Seb steadied her with a firm hand. Suddenly, Kara laughed, causing Seb to grin as well.

  “I can see that,” he said.

  She shook her head. “It’s so silly, I know.”

  “It’s not silly,” he refuted, standing next to her. “A little unusual for an elf . . .” he muttered. Then, “Fear is a very real thing. It’s how we let that fear rule our lives that’s silly.”

  “It doesn’t rule my life,” she said, feeling much better now that the engine was shut down and her feet were on terra firma. The only safety she felt otherwise was under the power of her own wings.

  “How often do you wander far from the village?” he asked. She decided silence was the better part of valor and kept her lips pressed together. Seb chuckled. She refused to look at him when she did, no matter how tempting it was to see his face transformed by laughter into something beyond glorious. Instead she studied their surroundings.

  The trees here were thick and dense to the north, but unlike any trees she’d seen before. As beautiful as the colors were at the North Pole, as unusual, they still couldn’t match the twinkling rainbow of this part of the forest. Color, bright, bold, and fantastical painted the trees from the trunks to the leaves which held all year round. Pink, blue, yellow, orange, and fuchsia trunks led to leaves that sparkled as brightly as the gems they resembled: diamonds, emeralds, rubies, topaz, sapphires . . . which brought to mind a certain pair of eyes. She quickly thrust the vision from her mind.

  Her heart froze as she realized exactly where they were. Fear lodged in her throat and crept down her spine, threading through her limbs. She might not have seen trees like this before, but she certainly knew to whom they belonged.

  “Why did you bring me here?” she asked quietly, her body tense, ready for flight at a moment’s notice. How could he know?

  “Pretty cool, huh?” Seb said over her shoulder. “I want you to meet someone.” Seb’s tone was as careless as if he were commenting on the taste of pizza. “A friend of mine.”

  Kara finally dared to risk a look at him. His demeanor matched his tone, his shoulders relaxed, his face—well, scowling, but that was normal for Seb. “A fairy?” she dared.

  His gaze came to hers then. “Yes, a fairy. Do you have a problem with fairies?”

  She had to tread carefully. There was no natural enmity between the elves and fairies. There was, in fact, a long history of peace between them, and it was not frowned upon to befriend one another. However, as Kara knew all too well, it was definitely frowned upon for them to have closer . . . relationships.

  “No, I don’t have a problem with them,” she said slowly. “I’ve never met one.”

  “Never met a fairy?” Seb’s brows shot up in surprise.

  She shook her head. “There aren’t that many in the South Pole. They don’t live . . . close by.”

  Seb was quiet a moment, as if weighing her words. “Well, then this will be a treat,” he said with a grin. Kara blinked and looked away. She needed all her wits. “Fairies are great fun.”

  “Fun?” Kara repeated, a word she didn’t imagine Seb used often.

  “Talking about us again?” a voice said. The voice was high, sing-song-like, almost more musical than Seb’s voice—but not quite. She tried to discover the source, but they appeared to be alone. “Not fair when we aren’t here to defend ourselves.”

  Seb laughed and Kara actually c
ringed away from the sound. Focus! What she had thought was nothing more than another twinkling light glinting off the magical trees was suddenly in front of her eyes, larger than the other twinkles. An explosion of light had Kara seeing spots, and the twinkle transformed into a man.

  No, man wasn’t right. He was a fairy. That was clear from his pointed ears, tall, thin body, and almost ethereal beauty. If those things weren’t clear enough, his wings would have given him away. Kara’s own wings cringed against her back painfully in recognition. He stood before her, smiling, his red eyes examining her curiously.

  “Who’s your amethyst friend, Sebastian?” the fairy asked.

  Kara waited for the explosion from Seb at the use of his full name. Instead, he calmly said, “This is Kara. She’s new to the North. Kara, this is my friend, Trystin.”

  Trystin took her hand gently, daintily in his and brought it to his mouth so quickly she didn’t have time to move back. At the contact, a shiver of recognition shredded into her heart. She gasped lightly as Trystin’s eyes flew to hers, perception lighting the red depths.

  Chapter Eight

  Please, please don’t understand what I am. And if you do, please don’t say it aloud.

  She knew her prayers were in vain. If Trystin truly recognized what she was, his loyalty would be to his friend Seb, not to her, an unknown oddity. Her cover would be blown once again, and she’d be forced to leave once more. Almost as if he read her thoughts, he nodded nearly imperceptibly.

  “Pleased to make your acquaintance, lovely Kara,” he said before flitting to land in front of Seb. He embraced Seb, and Kara was shocked to see Seb return it. Could today get any stranger? “It’s so good to see you, my friend,” Trystin said, releasing Seb.

  “And you as well.” A genuine smile lit Seb’s face.

  “You should come more often,” Trystin chided lightly.

  “I come when I can. I’m playing hooky today, with Kara along to be influenced by my poor work habits.”

  Kara and Trystin both scoffed at the same time, glancing at each other in surprise.

  “It seems your friend and I agree on just how poor your work habits are,” Trystin laughed.