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Her delighted shriek woke Vaela straight away.
By the time I’d changed them into their red-and-green Christmas onesies, the nursery smelt of milk and warm babies. I pulled on my matching pyjamas, then found the girls’ socks with holly leaves around the ankles.
I’d made sure every Alpha had matching Christmas pyjamas too. They’d all accepted them with the same serious expressions they wore whenever I asked them to do something important.
This was our first Christmas.
High Mountain already celebrated the Year’s Turning, when one year ended, and the next began. The Houses went through their accounts, remembered the people they’d lost and talked about what they hoped to change in the coming year. It was lovely, but I’d wanted to share Christmas with my family too.
I’d explained that, on Earth, we spent the day with people we loved, eating, exchanging presents and enjoying ourselves.
“That is the entire tradition?” Lucien had asked.
“There are songs too. Lots of food. And usually something sparkly.”
He’d made a note.
We’d started decorating almost three weeks earlier. The ceilings in our residence were several storeys high, and the doorways were so enormous that ordinary garlands looked tiny, so we went overboard. Several guards had brought in lifting frames and put on harnesses to hang the greenery and lights. Alaric had told their captain to provide whatever I needed, and the guards followed all my instructions, even if some looked a little puzzled by the dried orange slices.
Titus had helped Eira and me find the enormous tree for the sitting room and enough greenery for the halls. Most of it had come from our gardens. He’d promised to start preparing earlier next year so we wouldn’t need to bring anything in.
I carried Vaela on one hip and Seren on the other as we went along the corridor. At nine months old, they were getting wonderfully heavy and wriggly. Seren had a fistful of my hair, while Vaela was busy inspecting her onesie sleeve.
The garlands and lights made the huge halls feel so much cosier. Our tree almost reached the sitting-room ceiling, and I could smell it as we passed the doorway. I loved it so much that I’d already made Eira promise we wouldn’t take it down until the Year’s Turning was completely over.
The kitchen was warm and smelt of breakfast. Gilda stood at the stove in an apron covered in tiny embroidered Christmas trees, while Ada arranged fruit, pastries and bowls of spiced porridge along the island. We’d spent days baking together: iced biscuits, sugared orange slices, bread, little cakes and some unfortunate gingerbread men Eira had made. They looked more like gingerbread blobs, but they tasted good, so we kept them.
“Happy Christmas,” I said.
Gilda smiled. “Happy Christmas, Lady Stormforge.”
“I hope we celebrate this holiday every year, my lady,” Ada said.
“That’s exactly the spirit.”
My mates looked up from the table in the matching Christmas pyjamas I’d chosen for them. They all wore red-and-green striped bottoms and soft red long-sleeved tops with little green Christmas trees embroidered on the front.
They also had their new cream mugs, each with a name painted in navy: Papa Alaric. Papa Caius. Papa Lucien. Papa Leon. Papa Darius.
I pressed my lips together, trying not to laugh. They looked so serious, sitting there in their soft pyjamas with their papa mugs.
“Do you like them?”
Leon glanced down at his. “Very much, sweetheart.”
Lucien turned his mug to look at the lettering again. “It fits comfortably in my hand. Thank you, my darling.”
The others kept theirs close, and that was answer enough.
“Don’t move. You all look perfect.”
They stayed where they were while I admired them, though Caius soon held out his arms for Vaela.
“Come to Papa, little one.”
I handed her over, and she settled happily on his lap, already reaching for his porridge bowl.
Leon took Seren, rubbing her back until she relaxed against his chest. With both arms empty, I looked towards Alaric, who had already moved his chair away from the table. I went straight to him and settled on his lap.
