Page 48 of A Winter Courtship

Why couldn’t I be more like Elias? He never would have betrayed Lutoth as I did.

“Hmmm,” his father said and began to serve himself food. He cut into a sausage. “What are you wearing on your jacket?”

“Do you like it?” Elias asked.

Their father’s lip curled. He clearly did not.

“It’s a brooch.” Elias twisted it from side to side, the jewels reflecting in the candlelight. “They’re in fashion in Bordertown.”

“For men?” their father asked.

“Men and women. I think it’s fetching.” It was shaped like a bird, with tiny blue and white gemstones inlaid throughout. “They do all sorts of animals where I got this. I saw a reindeer one. It made me think of you, Ulrich.”

Their father snorted. “Ulrich isn’t some fancy, pretty boy from the city.” He gulped his wine. His face scrunched. Clearly, he didn’t like the wine Elias had brought from Bordertown either. “Ulrich is a real man of Ores. He is a blacksmith and does not need something so frivolous.” His eyes slid to Ulrich as if challenging him.

But what if Ulrich did want something frivolous? Why was that a big deal? And what if he did want to be a fancy, pretty boy? Or at least…a pretty boy. What was so wrong with that?

His mind went to Lutoth and all the times he’d called him pretty. Of all the frivolous gifts he’d given Ulrich to accentuate that. Of the flowers, the necklace, and the lace… The lace Ulrich had let slip to the floor.

He blinked rapidly. He shoved a piece of sausage in his mouth.

“Everyone has some need for frivolity.” Elias sipped from his glass, leaning back in his chair, gaze firm on their father.

“Hmph,” their father said.

They continued eating, barely speaking. Ulrich’s shoulders remained tense. Cutlery scraped against plates. Ulrich didn’t know why Elias came back for the Solstice. If it was Ulrich, he’d stay far away.

“I came by the smithy today,” Elias said. “I was keen to see Ethel. And you, of course, Ulrich.” He laughed. “I arrived in Ores shortly before midday and stopped by. But you weren’t there.”

“Were you off with that nymph?” His father pointed his fork at him. “He distracting you from your work again, boy?”

Why couldn’t his father just leave Ulrich alone? He reached into his pocket, touching the smooth metal. The gift he’d made for Lutoth.

His father shook his head. “Yourfriend,as you called him, I’ve noticed him around before.” His father chewed loudly. “Often near that reindeer or hanging around the smithy. He’s got his eye set on you. Don’t you let him fog your brain with his prettiness.”

Ulrich’s jaw clenched.

“You should find a betterfriendthan that nymph.”

Blizzard’s teeth! Why couldn’t his father just shut the fuck up!

“He might lead you to ruin. Like your mother did me.”

Ulrich had enough. “You don’t know what you are talking about! Everything you say is total nonsense!” His voice trembled—with rage or terror, Ulrich couldn’t tell.

His father’s mouth fell open. His brother’s eyes widened. Ulrich had never talked back to his father. He’d never talked back to anyone. Or raised his voice. But he wasn’t going to stop now.

“Lutoth is part-oread and part-sylph. He is part of these mountains. All the nymphs are. And if it hadn’t been for the dainty, pretty nymphs, our people would have died that first Solstice. We weren’t made for these mountains. They were.”

Elias lifted his glass. “Hear, hear!” He knocked on the table.

“And you know what, Lutoth wasn’t just a friend. He was my lover, and I wanted to build a life with him. But because I wasn’t strong enough to tell you, I hurt him, and I lost him. Because I was too much of a coward.” Ulrich took a deep breath.

“And yes, he is dainty and pretty, but I love him. Love him in a way I didn’t know was possible. He makes me happy in a way I’d stopped hoping for. And I could never find someone better than him, because there is no one better than him.” Ulrich pressed his hands to the wood of the table.

“And you shouldn’t talk about Mother like that. She didn’t choose to leave us. She died!” he yelled. “It doesn’t matter if she was delicate, or pretty, or part-nymph, she was your wife, and she died. You should have some respect.”

His father stared at him for several long moments. He put his fork down. Slowly, he rose, chair dragging against the wooden floor.