Light and Shadows

Once Upon a Winter's Veil

"Am I expected to attribute this to mere coincidence?"

The words were dry enough to crackle in the cold, wintery air, but the slight smile that crept past Renathal's fangs betrayed his true feeling.

"What else would you attribute it to?" asked the Maw Walker, her face all inscrutable innocence. She fiddled with one of the elegant knots on the silk-wrapped package she held, the words "Prince Renathal" inscribed on its small tag in a cramped and curly script. "Everyone in Sinfall is part of the gift exchange, so someone had to draw your name. It just ... happened to be me."

"And the fact that you were the one who enchanted the little bits of paper with everyone's names, and distributed them?"

The Maw Walker shrugged, and swept her long braid firmly over her shoulder.

"A statistical improbability," she said, the unrepentant smile that lit her face rivalling the candle-filled tree behind her for brightness. "I tend to attract them."

She offered Renathal the parcel, then nearly dropped it as "Picky" Stefan jostled her elbow in his haste to reach the tree. He wasn't the only one. Other eager denizens of Sinfall now flocked to the courtyard's festive centerpiece - and the offerings waiting beneath - prompting the Maw Walker to tuck her arm through Renathal's and drag him to a more sheltered corner, safely out of the fray.

For a moment, Renathal was entirely distracted by the sight of his friends and followers enjoying the unique holiday festivities. Apart from the tree and the gift exchange, there was caroling and what looked like an impromptu snowball fight courtesy of the Maw Walker's conjured snow. The Prince couldn't help feeling a proprietary pride at the merriment of his people, even though the Winter Veil themed Ember Court had been all Duke Theotar's idea.

"Well?" The Maw Walker interrupted his fond reverie. "Would you like your gift or not?" she asked, proffering the parcel once more, and Renathal's eyes flicked from her face to her hands in ill-concealed longing.

The Dark Prince of Revendreth adored gifts.

There was little he looked forward to more than occasions on which he could anticipate receiving a present. He craved them with a passion unbefitting a leader of his station, not to mention a Venthyr his age. What the gift was hardly mattered; the object itself was always secondary. It was the exquisite pleasure of being considered - knowing he was thought of in his absence - that elevated Renathal's soul to lofty, unassailable heights. That his secret lover should orchestrate events to ensure she could give him something particular was a thrill as substantial as an anima feast, the echoes of which he could subsist on for weeks.

"You need not have gone to any trouble," he demurred, accepting the silk-wrapped package as casually as his electric excitement would allow. He tugged at the elaborate knots, the cloth collapsing neatly in his hands; then falling to the stone at his feet, forgotten, as he stared at the garment within.

"Where did you get this?" he asked in astonishment, tracing the familiar green and silver pattern worked into the comfortably bulky material.

"Get it?" the Maw Walker scoffed. "You think the Night Market just happened to have a jumper with your armor's exact colours and motif? I made it, of course."

"You made this?" Renathal repeated, amber eyes widening in surprise. That the Maw Walker could knit was its own interesting detail, but it paled before the more confusing question of, "How ever did you find the time?"

The glow animating the Maw Walker's smile dimmed by several shades.

"Well ... I suppose I can't really claim much credit after all," she said slowly, with the air of having made some significant realisation. "I'll have to take you to thank the needles later."