He shook his head. “Those take months. I can’t go that long without working.”
The woman with the braid spoke up. “We get the dangerous jobs because we’re ‘built for it,’ but we don’t get the medical support to recover from them.” Her voice dripped with bitterness. “That’s why our clan has the highest rate of permanent injury.”
I stood slowly, anger rising in my chest. “How many others have injuries like this?”
“In our crew? Four,” Aleksi replied. “In the entire Finnish forest reindeer population? Hundreds, if not more.”
“And the company’s response?”
“Disability packages,” the woman muttered. “Generous severance, they call it. But leaving means?—”
“Losing your magic,” I finished for her.
“So we keep working—getting more injured, more broken—until we can’t work anymore.” Mikael’s voice was matter-of-fact, resigned. “It’s the same for all of us.”
I looked at Aleksi—reallylooked at him. The tension in his shoulders, the distance in his expression. The aggression that wasn’t arrogance at all, but armor. Armor forged by years of taking on the worst jobs to shield everyone else, and he’d worn it so often it had become part of him.
“You’ve been fighting this alone,” I murmured.
“Someone has to fight,” he retorted. “The other clans see Finnish forest reindeer as thugs—brutes too stupid or too angry to negotiate properly. They don’t understand that every meeting, every negotiation, I’m thinking about Mikael’s ankle and hundreds of others like it. I’m thinking about people suffering because they can’t afford to leave.”
“So you get angry,” I mused, the realization forming as I spoke. “And that confirms their prejudice. Which makes it harder to build alliances. Which makes you more isolated. Which makes you angrier.”
His jaw worked. “I’m not good at…diplomacy. At saying the right thing or playing political games. I’m good at protecting my people. That’s all I know how to do.”
Without thinking, I wove my fingers through his. “Luckily, you don’t have to do it alone—not anymore.”
His gaze softened, the tension in his shoulders loosening just slightly.
We spent another hour with his crew, and I took careful notes on their injuries, their working conditions. But I also watched Aleksi—the gentle way he checked on Mikael’s ankle, the way he knew everyone’s names, their families, their struggles. The quiet pride in his eyes when they spoke of small victories.
This wasn’t a brute. This was a leader who cared so much it was slowly destroying him.
When I finally had more than enough notes, he reached for my hand again, his touch careful, deliberate. “I have something else to show you,” he said. “Are you ready?”
I nodded, and he shifted back into his reindeer form so I could climb onto his back.
We flew out of the valley and for another ten minutes before descending near what looked like a cave entrance hidden deep inthe forest. After I slid off and he shifted back, he stood there for a long moment, unmoving, his gaze fixed on the shadows ahead.
“What is it?” I asked.
“What I’m about to show you…only a few know about it. It’s our greatest secret—our most valuable asset.” He looked at me, vulnerability clear in his eyes. “I’m trusting you with something I’ve never shared outside my clan.”
“I understand.” And I did. This wasn’t just him being vulnerable with me—it was him risking the safety of his people. As someone who was only just learning to share her own heart, I understood the bravery that took.
He studied my face for another beat, then nodded and led me into the cave. The passage was narrow at first but opened into a vast underground space that stole my breath.
It was a library. An enormous, ancient library carved into the rock itself.
Shelves stretched from floor to ceiling, filled with books, scrolls, and documents that looked centuries old. The space was lit by some kind of magical light that didn’t seem to come from any single source, casting everything in a soft, golden glow.
“This is…” I couldn’t find words.
“An elf library,” Aleksi said quietly. “From before the territorial agreements—before the North Pole operation became what it is now. When Santa expanded his corporate structure, many older establishments were abandoned. This one was forgotten entirely.”
I moved deeper into the space, drawn by the sheer weight of knowledge surrounding us. “How did you find it?”
“By accident, about ten years ago. Some of my crew were doing deep-forest reconnaissance and stumbled across it. It hadn’t been touched in decades—maybe centuries.”
