“You’ll see.” His tone holds the kind of quiet satisfaction that tells me he’s been planning this.
We cut across the garden to where a sleek black SUV idles. The driver nods when Jace opens the door for me. “Evening, sir. Miss Ashthorne.”
The ride into the city doesn’t take long, and when we stop, I see why Jace is so smug.
Lights. Everywhere. A canopy of them arch over the street, reflecting off the shop windows and the thin sheen of fake snow on the cobblestones. Different snow machines are hidden among decorations all around. People move between little stalls selling roasted chestnuts, ornaments, and mugs of steaming cider. Dakota and Maeve weren’t wrong. This looks like I walked on the set of a Christmas movie.
“You brought me to a Christmas market,” I said, my lips tug into a smile.
“Seemed like the kind of thing you’d like,” he shrugs.
And I do. More than I want to admit out loud.
We wander between the stalls, fingers brushing every so often until his hand finds mine and doesn’t let go. He buys us hot chocolate—thick and rich with whipped cream piled on top—and we end up on a small bench tucked beneath a canopy of twinkling lights.
“You’re smiling,” he says, watching me over the rim of his cup.
I shrug. “It’s nice, a slice of something normal.”
He doesn’t press, doesn’t push. Just sits there, watching the snow fall, letting the quiet settle in around us.
The hum of the market softens into the background. He leans against me on the bench, watching the families and couples walking about. “You know,” he says quietly, “my father would hate this.”
I glance at him, letting the heat from my cup warm my hands. “The market?”
“The… inefficiency of it.” His mouth quirks like it’s a joke, but there isn’t any humor in his eyes. “When I was a kid, he didn’t believe in wasting time on things like this. Said every hour should be spent training, learning, sharpening myself into the kind of leader he wanted.”
I frown. “A leader for the Guild. To take my father’s place.”
“Exactly.” His breath mists in the air, curling like smoke between us. “It wasn’t optional. If I wasn’t training physically, I was studying strategy, history, weapons, and languages. Anything to make me… better.” His jaw tightens. “Or at least better in his eyes.”
“After my mom left, he said if she could walk away from me that easily, then I had to prove my worth. To him, to everyone. That she’d regret leaving when she saw what I’d achieved without her. That I didn’t need her.”
There’s so much weight in his tone, I don’t even realize I reach for his hand until my fingers brush his. He lets me take it.
“I’m not perfect,” he adds quietly, “but I learned to be exactly what he needed me to be.” His thumb traces over my knuckles, almost absent-minded. “I don’t think he’s ever cared if I was happy. Just… useful.”
We sit there for a long moment, the cold settling in around us, the distant laughter of the market drifting through.
I squeeze his hand. “Well… I think you’re more than just useful, Jace.”
Something flickers in his eyes—not quite a smile, but softer than I’d seen him all night.
“Do you miss her?”
He doesn’t answer right away. His gaze drifts over the rows of glowing stalls, the strings of lights swaying gently in the wind.
“Yeah,” he says finally, his voice low. “I do. I was young when she left, but… I remember enough to miss her.”
“What do you remember most about her?”
“Sunflower seeds. She always had a bag within reach. I’d go and see her after whatever lessons dad had planned for me that day and sometimes she’d be on the couch, watching a show with a bag beside her. She’d smile and ask me to join her. We’d share some while she held me. It’s the only bright spot I remember.”
I smile, my chest warming at the mental image. “That sounds really nice.”
He nods sadly, “It was.”
Chewing on my lower lip, I sift through my thoughts. “I remember when I was little, my mom took me to a mall. It was just us. She bought me a dog plush, since she couldn’t get me an actual dog. His name was Tidbit and I carried it around everywhere. It became my prized possession because she got it for me.”
