Ruhnerium felt no different than it had the first time Faryn had arrived in the North Pole. Now that Nick's loyal elves knew he was alive, was it that outrageous to think that the village would at least seem cheerier? Perhaps Christmas carols would be sung to greet them or a tray of hot cocoa topped with whipped cream that would be presented to them as they made their way down the stairs from the train platform. But it was if nothing had changed. A few elves who were passing by the platform noticed Nick and bowed before going on their way but after that they didn't bother to spare another look at the group.

Two sleighs awaited the group. Both were white and wrapped with deep forest green garland and the ripest of holly berries. A team of horses were saddled to one sleigh while eight reindeers were hooked to the other. Surely, they were Nick's personal sleigh team. The ones who were responsible for the warm bag of shit Faryn had received for Christmas.

Nick moved ahead of their small group and approached the reindeers. He slapped the reindeers on their backs, rubbing the backs of their heads. The greeting was like how one would welcome a long-lost fraternity brother. The reindeers answered his greetings with honks and harsh nudges of their heads against Nick's stomach, narrowly avoiding skewering him with their antlers.

Clíodhna and Peter stood on either side of Faryn. In their own separate group were Klaus, Jack, and Dagur.

Faryn hadn't spoken more than a few words to her chaperone while they were on the train, choosing instead to isolate with her friends in a cabin. Before boarding the train, the Yule Lad had greeted her, telling her he was looking forward to training her and that she would be perfectly safe under his guard.

Faryn had only asked that he wouldn't underestimate Jack.

Now, her cousin and Klaus made their way over to Nick, while Dagur crossed the snow to Faryn and her friends. In his footprints, bits of the cobblestone street peeked through the snow.

"Might I join you in your sleigh?"

Frowning, Clíodhna looked him up and down. "You are supposed to be her chaperone, right?" When Dagur nodded, she said, "I think that means you're required to ride in her sleigh."

He ran a hand over his hair. "Right. Sorry. I'm new to all this."

"I couldn't tell at all."

Faryn stepped on Clíodhna's foot, and the Leprechaun grunted. "You're more than welcome to ride with us."

Dagur smiled graciously and tugged at his white coat that was lined with pale sandy fur and trimmed in gold.

Behind him, Nick, Klaus, and Jack had already boarded their sleigh. Nick grabbed the reins and gave them one snap, and their sleigh slid along the snow.

As their distance grew, it was if the world leveled out, as if air finally flowed back into the space, and Faryn took a greedy gulp of it.

An elf stood beside their sleigh. He was dressed in deep green livery and helped the four of them to board. In the sleigh, the seats were a creamy white and plush, like the freshest snow. Gray fur blankets lay draped over the seats.

Clíodhna and Peter sat on one side, wasting no time in making use of the blankets. Neither Faryn nor Dagur made to reach for them.

The elf climbed up into the driver's seat behind Faryn. He didn't bother to check if they were ready before he snapped the reins, and the sleigh began to drag over the snowy streets.

Faryn focused on a piece of holly. "It's important for you to know that Peter and Clíodhna will also be keeping an eye on things."

"I suspected as much." A pause. "You're very loyal friends," he said, and Faryn dragged her gaze away from the holly to see him place a palm over his heart and bend forward. "I take my task of training and guarding Mother Winter very seriously. Winter entrusted me with this role, and I will not fail my court."

Faryn shifted on the bench. She wasn't comfortable hearing her title spoken aloud. Wasn't sure if she ever would be. Though it had only been a day. It made sense the two words still slid their way under her skin, making her tense. "If you don't mind," she started, "what are your powers? I'm afraid I don't know much about the Yule Lads."

"It's not the same between all of my brothers, but I have control over fire, snow, and the wind."

"Fire . . ." Peter frowned. "That isn't very wintery of your magic."

Dagur flashed him a grin. "Perhaps you should learn more about the Yule Lads then."

Their sleigh traveled across the bridge that ran over the chasm that separated the village from Nick's palace. The last time she had been inside that palace, Faryn had ended her stay in its dungeon. The palace was made of a mixture of sections comprised of bricks of different colors. Some sections were a red, light enough that it was almost a burnt orange. Others were a deep gray that in the right light could be called blue. And then there were bricks that were a sandy color. The snowy roofs of the main portions of the palace were angled like a triangle while from them towers sprouted into the air. If one wanted to really overanalyze the structure, the towers might be called phallic, odes to manhood, and giant representation of how big of a dick Nick was.

Peter laid a hand on her knee and gave it a squeeze. It seemed to soothe some of her nerves, and she gave him a smile.

"Once we're settled in"—Dagur twisted on the bench toward her—"Jack said he would show us where we can practice. I'll come by to collect you before your cousin does. I promise."

*****

Once inside, a servant showed Faryn, Peter, and Clíodhna to the room they'd be sharing, while another showed Dagur to his.

Unlike the last bedroom Faryn had been given in this palace, there were windows in this one, large works of glass etched with snowflake designs that looked out over the village. A bed of twisted white birch wood sat against the middle of the far wall, its cover an icy blue with white spiderweb like threads. While all three of them should be able to fit into the king-sized bed, it was going to be tight.

The walls of the bedroom were painted a blue so light it was almost white, while wallpaper covered one wall that depicted baren trees in the midst of winter.

Once the servant had left and the door was locked, Peter walked over to one of the windows. He tried undoing the latch on it with no success. "Hopefully that means no one will be getting in."

Faryn walked toward a dresser made of the same wood as the bed. "Maybe we should see if there are any mice holes. No mice. No rats."

Their search didn't take them long, and thankfully no crevices turned up. It wasn't long after that Dagur knocked on the door.

"You found my room awfully quickly," Faryn said.

"What kind of chaperone would I be if I hadn't?" He peered past her to where Peter and Clíodhna had made themselves comfortable on the bed. He pointed a finger between them. "And as her chaperone, I hope there's no funny business going on between you three when my back's turned."

Faryn's face heated, while Clíodhna barked out a laugh that was quickly muffled. If Faryn had to guess, she'd say Peter had slammed a pillow over her face.

Faryn peered down the hall past Dagur only to find her cousin prowling up it.

"Hello, cousin. Dagur." He gave the Yule Lad a nod before glancing behind Faryn before he shifted his eyes back to her. "Is everything to your liking?"

She smiled at him, and she hoped it conveyed that he could go shove an icicle up his ass. "It already feels like home."

He scowled and turned on his heel, taking off back down the hallway.

Dagur frowned. "I guess that means we follow?"

As they walked through the palace, Jack was silent until they came to stop before a wooden door, reinforced with metal, one Faryn recognized. She tensed, taking a step back, as her cousin pushed open the door to the dungeons.

"I hope you don't mind."

He didn't give her a chance to answer before he set off down the stairs. Dagur started to follow but hesitated when he saw Faryn had made no attempt to move.

"This is a trap."

"You need an isolated place to practice your magic."

"Did they tell you I was locked up down there?"

"Yes."

She narrowed her eyes. "I'm not going down there."

"I won't let anything happen to you."

"I don't know you."

"Trust that it's my duty." He closed his hand over the top of hers, and Faryn yanked her hand away.

"Don't touch me."

Faryn's ice spread over Dagur's arm until it was encased in a thick layer. It had happened in little more than a blink of the eye, a breath really. Eyes wide, Faryn took a step back.

"I—I wasn't. I don't know how I—"

"It's okay." He tried to shrug but could only move one shoulder. "It's a start, Faryn." He waved his free hand over his arm and the tiniest of flames flickered from his palm. The ice began to melt.

Peter and Clíodhna were meant to have been following her. She could smell them, so where were they?

"Are you coming?" Jack's voice called out.

"One second," Dagur yelled back. The ice was now a puddle on the floor. When he looked at her, he didn't seem angry. "You need training, Faryn. The ice had little effect on me but imagine if it had been one of your friends." She'd burnt Cassian with her ice multiple times already. Something twisted in her stomach. "We're not going down into the dungeons to lock you up. We're going down there so you can practice without fear of hurting others."

Faryn took a deep breath. "I might actually hurt you though."

He shrugged. "I'm tougher than I look. I promise." He held out his hand, this time palm up and waiting for her move.

Hesitantly, she placed her hand in his and let him lead her down into the dungeons.

At the bottom of the stairs, there wasn't a legion of elves awaiting them, ready to grab her. The only one waiting was Jack who didn't look annoyed by the hold up. Rather his lips curved in a smile and his eyes sparkled. "Nervous, cousin?"

Faryn didn't deign to answer.

The cells were empty of prisoners, just as they had been when Faryn had been down here before. It wasn't often that Santa Claus needed to lock people up.

Her eyes went to the cell she'd been a prisoner of. It showed no signs of her having ever been inside, as if it had never happened.

Jack led them past the rows of cells and the dungeon took a sharp turn to the right and then left before the path sloped down, and there were no longer cells and stone walls but jagged walls that curved overhead into a tunnel. They'd entered a cave almost seamlessly. As they walked, their steps echoed around them. The bouncing of the sound waves made Faryn grit her teeth. She could still smell her friends, but their scents were faint.

The tunnel ended, spitting them out into a cavern where stalagmites and stalactites in hues of red covered the outer rim of the space. At the far end of the cavern, was a small pond, its water still and dark.

"You'll be out of everyone's way here," Jack said and turned. "I'm sure you can find your way back." He gave a dismissive wave before disappearing inside the tunnel.

"All right." Dagur's voice drew her attention. He held out his hand, palm up. Was she meant to take it? "We'll start simple." In the center of his palm, a single snowflake formed.

Faryn swallowed through the uncomfortable tightness in her throat. "I've never controlled snow."

"Try. You're a Morozko."

She wanted to tell him that her magic had been taunting her about that fact her whole life. But she didn't. Instead, she opened her palm, imagining a snowflake forming as it had in Dagur's hand.

No chill cooled her skin. There was no tingle or spark of magic. And her hand remained empty.

"Command your magic."

She knew that's what she needed to do. She just wasn't very good at it.

Brows drawing together in concentration, Faryn stared down at her palm. Form. Form. Form . . . please.

Nothing appeared.

"You've used your powers before. You just used them on me. You shouldn't be having doubts that you actually do have magic."

"I'm not having . . ." But she was, wasn't she? This whole time, even before she'd used her powers on the train to save Cassian, she'd always viewed her magical abilities to be laughably shortcoming. Yet there were times when her power had exploded from her that challenged that. When she'd unleashed ice on her half-brother's throne and frozen the courtyard of the Spirit Court's palace. This power in her was hers. No one but her could control it. Jack couldn't take it from her. Nor Klaus or Nick.

If she ever wanted the chance to live a different life, her only option was to learn to control her powers. Maybe it wouldn't be what let her go back to Oxford, but she couldn't very well integrate into the human world if she was a walking snowstorm waiting to happen.

She flexed her fingers.

Form.

Slowly, so tediously slowly, a tiny pinprick of white appeared on her palm as if it had risen from her skin. It stretched into a white line. Branches spread from it connecting and crossing until there was an intricate pattern of triangles and diamonds.

In her palm rested a snowflake.

Snow. She let out a breath. She had made snow. One snowflake wasn't going to protect her or give the season anything in the way of power but still . . . she had created snow.

When she pried her eyes from it, it was to find Dagur staring at her, head tilted and a smile gracing his lips. "There you go."

"If you can control snow, why aren't you helping the season?"

"Only Father Frost and the Morozkos have access to the wells of power that feed the season." Had a Father Frost perhaps once upon a time been a Morozko? Maybe a brother to the Jack Frost at the time?

"So"—Dagur crossed his arms, the fabric of his coat pulling tight—"do you think you can try to make a little more snow this time?"

She stretched out her palm toward him, a pile of fresh white fluffy snow forming in her hand, spilling through her fingers.

Relief welled in her chest. She wasn't completely hopeless.

Arms still crossed, Dagur gave a nod of approval. "Before you know it, you'll be able to make snowballs to pelt your cousin with."

Faryn curled her fingers, using her other hand to help compact the snow. Pulling her hand away, she was left with a ball the size of an acorn.

Dagur laughed and tossed a softball-size globe of snow in the air. "We'll practice every day before we go to Franavik."

"Franavik? Why would we go there?"

"It's where your grandfather gives power to the season."

That made sense though she had no desire to go back to that cursed place. The place where she'd learned her mother really didn't care about her as much as she had always thought.

"When do we leave?"

"A week."

"A week?"

"It's what Winter has ordered."

The familiar feeling of panic began bubbling up in her again. "I won't be ready in a week."

"You'll give what you can."

"I don't understand why you can't also if you're going to be there with me."

"Each well is attuned to a line of magic. Mine wouldn't be accepted." He bit his lip.

"What?"

"The Morozkos or Father Frost could tell us how to create our own wells, but they don't."

She blinked. "Why wouldn't they?"

"Then they wouldn't be as important, would they? If Moroz was actually concerned about the season, he would have passed along his knowledge to the rest of the court." He pulled his phone from his back pocket and checked it. "We should get to dinner. We can practice more after."

The two of them headed for the tunnel. The closer they got the stronger Peter's and Clíodhna's scents became. Had they been close enough to hear what Dagur had said? Moroz hadn't needed to put this burden on her. Hadn't needed to force her to put her life on hold or place her in a position where she had to fear almost everyone around her. Instead, he'd exerted his power over her so that he could retain it.

Frost creeped over the roof of the tunnel, and Dagur stopped, turning back to her. "What's wrong?"

The frost continued to spread down the tunnel. She clenched her fist, and though she couldn't see it, she felt the frost halt. "I want to punch Moroz."

The Yule Lad crossed his arms, and something twinkled in his brown eyes. "The good thing about Acurials is we usually live long enough to see most of our desires come to fruition."

As they continued down the tunnel, a new scent mixed its way in between those of her friends and Dagur. It was familiar—balsam but as if someone had set a flame to it. But the moment she turned to seek out the source, the scent melted away as if it had never been there.

Happy Holidays and Merry Christmas to anyone who celebrates! What's your favorite piece of music from the Nutcracker? Mine is the Waltz of the Snowflakes.