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Not five minutes later, Devon approached the hall, carrying a sack of gifts, and decked in the bright green costume of the Yule King, a pair of antlers on his head, from which Griffin had suspended several sprigs of holly.
A variety of high-pitched voices echoed across the hall as the children sang the Yule King song, their backs to the doorway.
“Well done, children!” Delilah cried. “I think I heard the Yule King. So you must all close your eyes. Then, when I say so, open them, and we’ll see if he’s come down the chimney.
She smiled in encouragement, and Devon slipped into the hall, approached the fireplace, and sat in the chair reserved for the Yule King. Attie watched him from across the room, Francine in her arms. She gave him a watery smile, and guilt twisted in his gut at the redness in her eyes.
“All right, children,” Delilah cried. “He’s here!”
The children opened their eyes and stared at Devon. He stared back, his heart rippling in his chest, waiting for the screams.
Then one of the children gave a cry of delight, and Devon recognized Hamish.
“It’s Devon!” he cried. “Davie, Jamie—he’s the one I’ve been telling you about! The brave man who saved my life on the mountain.”
“Who’d like to see the Yule King first?” the teacher asked.
A small boy with his thumb stuck in his mouth stared at Devon, wide-eyed, his green eyes resonating against a shock of red hair.
“Would you like to be the first, Niall?”
Devon waited for the boy to retreat, but he nodded and approached the fireplace. Devon reached out and set the boy on his knee. Then the boy smiled, giving Devon a big gap-toothed grin.
“Hello, Your Majesty. I’m Niall!” the boy declared.
“Would you like a gift, Niall?” Devon asked, reaching inside the sack. He pulled out one of the toy boats he’d made. The boy’s eyes widened, and he reached for the toy and held it to his chest.
“A boat! A boat!” he cried. “Thank you!”
One by one, the children greeted him, sitting on his knee while he fished out a gift and thanking him. A little girl by the name of Freydis reached up and touched his face, and he tensed as a hush descended on the company.
“Did you have to fight many demons to get here?” she asked.
“More than you’ll ever know,” he said, glancing at his wife. “But I’ve conquered them all, including the ones we cannot see.”
“Hamish has said how brave you are,” she said.
“You know Hamish?”
“Aye—he’s at school. He didn’t come to school after his da died, but he’s back now. He’s the best at reading. I think I love Hamish.”
Devon stifled a laugh at the expression of horror on Hamish’s face.
“Yuk!” one of the boys said. “Mrs. McAllan—Freydis fancies Hamish!”
“That’s enough, Davie,” the teacher said, “or ye’ll not have any cake.”
The last child to approach Devon was Hamish, and he climbed onto Devon’s lap and gave him a hug.
“Thank you,” he said.
“You’ve not had your toy yet, Hamish.”
“No, I meant, thank you for the dictionary—and for helping us. Ma’s much happier now. Her Ladyship found her some work at the school, and Mrs. McAllan’s provided a room there for Rhona, so Ma doesn’t have to leave her at home.”
The thin woman cradling the baby approached Devon, and he recognized the woman from the cottage—the one who’d screamed at his face.
“Mrs. MacGregor!” Delilah cried, crossing the floor to the fireplace. “Morag—why don’t I take little Rhona for you so that you can enjoy some cake?”
