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With a pained glance in my direction, Reid stretches to his tiptoes to untangle the tinsel. It drips from the boughs—from the mantel, from the windows, fromeverything—like melting icicles, interspersed with shining baubles and golden bells. Poinsettias. Garlands of dried oranges and velvet ribbons and white berries, candles, and enough mistletoe to make the town house a veritable tinderbox of awkwardness.

Filippa and I might’ve gotten a little carried away.

Still, exhilaration tingles from the top of my head to the tips of my toes as I gaze around at them—my loved ones, my family—all gathered in my childhood sitting room. Never in my wildest dreams would I have imagined such a happily ever after for us: humans, witches, and a vampire queen celebrating together on a perfect winter evening.

I hasten to distribute their gifts: one present for every person in attendance, each chosen anonymously and placed under the tree in secret.

When I stumble on the edge of our festive scarlet rug—a gift from Odessa—Michal catches the wrapped packages that spill from my arms. Whereas I’ve lost my immortal grace, he seems to have retained his entirely, and I am not at all sure that’s fair. To Reid, he says in a wry voice, “If you can’t reach the top, I’d be happy to offer my assistance.”

Reid scowls at him, but in his eyes, a glimmer of mischief sparks. With a snap of his fingers, the tinsel winds around the last branch before twining upward, past the boughs, and twisting around the chandelier where it glitters in the candlelight. Reid smirks at my mother’s delighted gasp. “Thanks for your concern,” he says dryly, “but I think I can handle it.”

Lou cackles, sitting cross-legged by the hearth and braiding Coco’s hair while Beau attempts to light the ceremonial log. He shoots them an aggrieved glance. “Either one of you could do this with a wave of your hands, you know.”

“Oh, we know.” With a serene smile, Lou weaves a strand of tinsel through Coco’s braids too. “But it’s much more entertaining to watch the king do it.”

“Ingrates,” Beau mutters. “I didn’t escape the castle this evening to put up with this kind of harassment—”

“That isexactlywhy you escaped the castle this evening,” Coco says sweetly. She plucks a marshmallow from her mug of hot cocoa and flicks it at him. He dodges at the last second, and it soars into the hearth. “Would it help if I say you look extra dashing tonight?”

A grin tugs on his lips as he straightens his brocade vest. “It would, actually.”

“Are we sure Beau should be in charge of lighting anything?” Reid drops to the floor beside Lou, stretching out his long legs andstealing a sip of her cocoa. “He nearly burned down the city the last time he played with fire.”

Beau shoots him a narrow look. “Byplayed, I assume you meanattempted to save your ungrateful lives—”

“Is that what you were doing?”

Coco leans forward to press a kiss to Beau’s cheek before he can retort. “And we’re all very appreciative.” Slightly mollified, Beau closes his mouth once more, and his dark eyes burn with fervor as he watches Coco settle back upon the rug. No. They burn withlove. If I’m any judge of character, I know exactly what he intends to give Coco for Yule this year.

The only question iswhen.

Unable to contain my giddy smile—shooting them both covert glances every few seconds, just in case—I do my best to distribute the rest of the gifts without giving his secret away. When I extend a brightly wrapped present to Odessa, she inspects it with keen interest, turning it round and round before shaking it abruptly.

“Stop that!” I snatch it away from her, clutching it to my chest indignantly. “It’s supposed to be asurprise.”

“I am not trying to learn what itis.” Odessa leans forward in my mother’s favorite high-back chair, clad in an opulent gown of crimson and emerald silk with an enormous crown of poinsettias atop her sable hair. The entire ensemble should look completely ridiculous, but instead, she looks like some sort of Christmas angel thanks to her preternatural beauty—or she would, if not for the goblet of blood in her hand. “I am trying to learn who it’sfrom.”

“Which is also against the rules.” Whirling, I hide her gift under a pillow across the room—safe from her prying eyes—and offer Michal the last remaining present, this one wrapped in silverfoil with deep emerald stars. Odessa peers at it for the briefest of seconds before swirling her goblet in smug satisfaction.

“Thatone is from Reid.” When I scowl at her, she shrugs delicately. “Look at those corners—they’re sharper than a Balisarda. I am not entirely sure he didn’t steam the paper before wrapping it.”

“He did.” With a chortle, Lou ties a ribbon around the end of Coco’s braid. “I watched him do it. And it took himweeksto pick out your gift,” she adds to Michal, who laughs and sinks into the settee, completely at ease as he spreads a broad arm across its back. Heat infuses my cheeks at the sight, at the memory of him on a very different settee, and when his black eyes cut to mine—darkening slightly, his lips curling into a smirk—I know he remembers it too.

A different sort of heat spreads through my belly as I hold his gaze. So similar, yet so different from the vampire I knew. Once, I would’ve attributed the softness in his eyes to becoming human, but now I know I would’ve been wrong; that softness has always been there when Michal looks at me.

Somehow, this beautiful and breathtaking man—this man who held true power in his hands, who wielded it, who might’ve lived forever on an unbreakable throne—has chosen to be here instead.Here.In my mother’s threadbare sitting room, surrounded by tinsel and mistletoe and cats.

Toulouse darts across Lou’s lap, and Reid grimaces as Melisandre pounces after the kitten, her claws catching on his trousers. “It didn’t takeweeks—”

“The game, as you all remember, is called le secret du Père Noël.” I plant my hands on my hips, glaring at everyone despite the brilliant smile on my face. I cannot help it. Not with Michalwatching me like this—like he is seconds away from pouncing, from dragging me into a dark corner to have his wicked way with me. His rapt attention makes my smile all the brighter as I pretend to ignore him. “Emphasis onsecret. Are you all trying to ruin Christmas?”

“Yule,” Coco and Lou say simultaneously.

“Christmas.” Voice tart, my mother strides back into the room carrying a tray of rich, chocolaty bûche de Noël, along with sugarplum pudding and spiced pear pies. My stomach rumbles at the decadent scents. “Though if anyone else is trying to ruin this holy day, I fear you have competition.”

As if on cue, Filippa’s and Dimitri’s voices rise from the kitchen, where they sound like they’re doing their best to kill each other. “That issalt, not sugar!” Filippa snarls, and an ominous crash follows, rather like Filippa just launched the saltcellar at Dimitri’s head. He curses viciously.

“Salt enhances the flavors of the dish!”