I know, I know. It’s my job to worry about him.
HEX
Mine as well.
Quite the career path we have, hm?
I stare at Hex’s texts and feel the same lack of weight on my shoulders that I’ve noticed since Christmas. It’s simultaneously freeing and staggering.
Thank you.
HEX
It’s my pleasure, Kris. Truly.
The sun outside the library is bright and bursting through the almost constant British cloud cover, and I stand in its rays for a second, and breathe.
I’m still a Prince of Christmas, still part of Coal’s restructuring to create a collective that pools joy between the winter Holidays. I’ve written a lot of official responses to other Holiday leaders and drafted speeches for Coal to use during meetings. I’ve been a sounding board for his ideas about how to interact with other leaders, what topics to bring up about resource divisions, how he’s arranging to not only share magic among us all but also to pay back what Christmas stole over time—which makes pointless magic use like creatingtinseleven dumber.
But is any of what I’ve been doingnecessary?
I close Coal’s text box. Close the one with Hex. The group chat remains, Iris and Coal’s bantering filling my screen; and the private thread with Iris.
I almost text her about the cheekbones on that guy.
I almost join the group chat and tell them how Iris’s comment on cream filling came at the worst possible time, join in their lightheartedness like nothing’s wrong, like nothing changed.
But thereisstuff wrong.
Thingsdidchange.
And I’ve never been good with change.
On autopilot, I swipe to a different text thread, one that’s been silent since right after Christmas.
MOM
MOM
How could you not tell me what was going on? That Nicholas was getting MARRIED?? The mother of the groom should not have to stoop to asking about the wedding at all!
I’ve stopped hoping you could get any consideration for me from your brother, but I thought you at least were well past this childish behavior. Why don’t you think I deserve to know what is happening with my own children?
Answer me!!
You’re behaving like such a brat and now you’ve made me lose my temper. Stop being dramatic about this!!
I finally responded. Just once:
It wasn’t a real engagement, that’s why we didn’t tell you. It was a weird political ploy and it’s over now.
I almost said,If it was real, you would’ve known.But the thought of anyrealwedding, for me or Coal, being marred by our mother showing up had me ignoring the rest of her barrage of texts.
I scan them now, and even though they’re the shit I expect from her—how could you, get your brother to talk to me, why can’t you do even simple things—my hand shakes and I pocket my phone before I drop it.
A clamp squeezes around my chest.
I duck into the shadows between the wall of the library and anarching ornamental tree still winter-frozen. I dig my fingers into the mortar between the bricks and demand that I take a full, deep breath, in through my nose, in through my nose, in through my—exhaletoo, goddamn it—
