“Beasties! All of you!” I’m laughing as I duck and weave, scrambling for cover. I summon a ripple of illusion behind me, sending a flurry of fake snowballs to rush at the kids like a magical barrage. They shriek and scatter, ducking wildly behind their fort.
“Cheap shot!” Juani hollers.
“It was glorious, and you know it,” I shout back.
But my victory is short-lived. Mikael rises from behind a drift, a snowball in each hand and Eevi giggling on his back like a tiny warlord. The next hit catches me in the ear.
“Nooo! Not you, Mika! You were my favorite!”
His laugh is darkly ominous. I whirl to retreat, only to be pelted from all sides. Real snowballs, magical snowballs, sibling-launched violence. There’s no end in sight.
I collapse backward into a snowbank with a dramatic groan.
Val saunters up through the flurry, her cheeks flushed with battle-lust. “You’re yielding already?”
“I cannot possibly stand up to your greatness, my better half. Also, eight against one. Highly unethical.”
“You brought this on yourself.”
I grin up at her. I’m drenched, freezing, and possibly missing a sock. And utterly, thoroughly undone.
All I can think is:Deeps, she’s stunning.
Falling for her may be the most dangerous, most deliciously reckless trick I’ve ever played on myself.
By the time we finally trudge back to the cottage, the twins are singing some battle chant, Eevi’s asleep on Mika’s back, and somehow I’m wearing one of Joha’s mitts. Helkki reappears at my side, looking as messy as me.
“Where were you? Did you get some licks in like the hellion you are?”
“Who me? I wasn’t doing anything.”
“Well, that’s not suspicious at all.” I tug her cap down over her ears, dislodging tree needles everywhere.
We’re quite a picture. My trousers are soaked. My hair is a frozen mop. There’s snow in places I’m not going to talk about.
But my heart?
My heart’s never been warmer.
I’m high up a ladder in the glasshouse two days later, when the door at the far end creaks open. I finish fastening the last pane into place above a bed of lehtok—a bitter, blue-leafed plant that turns nutty and rich when sautéed with salt. Daria’s tavern meals use a lot of it, since it grows so fast. I’m being paid for this repair job in vegetables, so I’ll need to pick up something in town later to round out dinner. Keeping eight bellies full is no small feat, especially when one of them is Mika.
Val’s curious face comes into view. Nine bellies, I remind myself.
It looks like Val is discovering this warm little world tucked behind the tavern for the first time. Sunlight from the slanted roof panes gleams in her starlit hair, while bright sapphire eyesping from blue arguta vines to clusters of orange tuliroot like she’s trying to identify anything familiar. Her gaze catches on the fuzzy blooms of mullein curling under the cold frames.
“Val! Taking a break from charming guests?” I call down.
She startles, spinning to face the hillaberryshrub like it might have sprouted vocal cords. Finally, she spots the ladder rising above. “There you are! Oh…that’s high.”
“Don’t worry. I have cat-like balance.”
“Oh. Right. Of course.” Despite the assurance, she hurries over to brace the ladder. There’s no danger to someone with Lyslander reflexes, but her concern sends a flicker of warmth through me.
“Thanks for the assist, fiancée.”
“You’re welcome, fiancé.” She gives me a proud smile as I descend, and just like that, my heart trips down the rungs.
Here, among the richly scented soil and blossoms, she glows. She’s a rare flower, and I’m just a nectar-drunk butterfly, helpless to keep from fluttering to her bloom.
