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"I just thought, if we're going to be stuck here for the holiday anyway, it might be nice," she says quickly. She's picking at a loose thread on the blanket. "They're so pretty. It seems a shame to leave them in the dark."

"Elara," I start.

"It's fine if you'd rather not. Truly. It's your cabin." She shrugs, but it's a stiff shrug. "It's only that I haven't really had anyone to celebrate with. Not since my aunt died. We used to decorate our cottage together every year, and I loved it. And since she's been gone, it's just..." She trails off. Then she laughs a little, but there's nothing behind it. "It's lonely. That's all. It's silly."

There's an ache in my chest that I'm not prepared for.

I picture her alone in a little cottage, year after year, while the rest of her village celebrates around her. Hanging a garland by herself. Lighting candles for nobody.

And she's sitting there braced for us to say no. I can see it. Her shoulders are tight. She's already got the little smile ready, the one she'll use to say it's fine, it doesn't matter.

She has no idea.

If she asked for the moon, the three of us would go and fight over who gets to fetch it.

"It's not silly," I tell her. "It's a brilliant idea. The best idea anyone's had in this cabin in years."

Her head comes up. And her face lights up like someone just lit every candle in the room at once. I feel like I've slain a dragon. Which is funny, considering.

"Really?" she says.

"Really."

She looks at Zarek. He nods. She looks at Kaelen. He grunts, which is Kaelen for absolutely, yes, whatever you want.

"One condition," I say, leaning closer and lowering my voice. "We do the climbing this time. Since we've all seen what happens when you and ladders get together."

She laughs. She actually laughs, bright and surprised, and throws a pillow at my head.

Zarek shakes his head. And Kaelen's mouth twitches at the corner. Just barely. It's the closest thing to a smile I've seen out of him in months.

The next few hours are unlike anything I've lived through in centuries.

We haul the trunks down from the attic one after another, coughing at the dust, and she dives into them like a child on solstice morning. She holds up glass ornaments to the firelight to watch them sparkle. She untangles ribbons. She finds the little carved dragons and lines them up along the hearth, one after another, until there's a whole parade of them.

"Look at this one," she says, holding up a red one. "He looks so grumpy."

Kaelen, who's carrying a trunk on one shoulder like it's full of feathers, stops and looks at it. Then at her.

I bite the inside of my cheek so hard I taste blood.

Then she takes charge.

Not gradually. Not politely. She stands up in the middle of the cabin in my too big shirt with the sleeves rolled to her elbows, plants her hands on her hips, and starts giving orders like she was born to it.

"Zarek, garlands. Over the fireplace. Kaelen, the windows. Ribbons and those little glass ones, there, and there. Rhydian." She points at me. "Candles. All of them. Everywhere."

"Everywhere?"

"Everywhere."

"Yes, my lady," I say, and bow.

She rolls her eyes, but she's smiling.

It's the funniest thing I've ever seen. Three kings. Three men who command armies and rule kingdoms and have made grown lords weep with a single look. And here we are, scurrying around a cabin, taking orders from a woman in borrowed socks who has no idea who she's bossing around.

And Zarek. Zarek, who hates being told what to do more than anything else in the world.