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"Like it's about to steal something off the counter."

"Well," he says, "that's fair."

I climb right out of my chair and into his lap on the rug and kiss him, and he wraps both arms around me and kisses me back until I'm dizzy.

"Should've carved you a whole herd of them," he says against my lips.

Then Kaelen leans forward and sets the last one in my hand.

It's bigger than the others. A crimson dragon with black horns, its great wings folded. And it's curled all the way around a tiny wooden flower, holding it close, protecting it.

I stare at it.

The flower is so small. So delicate. Every petal is carved separately, paper thin. And his hands are so huge. I can't imagine how he did it. How many hours he must have spent hunched by the fire, working at it.

I look up at him.

He's watching me. Waiting. Like he's not sure whether I'll like it.

I don't say anything. I can't. I just get up off Rhydian's lap, throw my arms around Kaelen's neck, and kiss him.

He goes completely still. Then his arms come around me, and he kisses me back, slow and deep and so tender that my heart nearly cracks open. When I finally pull away, his whole face is flushed.

"There it is again!" Rhydian crows. "We've found it. We've finally found the secret to making the mighty Kaelen blush."

"You look good with some color in your cheeks," Zarek says mildly.

"Shut up," Kaelen says. "Both of you."

But I catch him smiling.

I gather up all three dragons and carry them to the mantel. I set them in a row right in the middle, where I can see them from anywhere in the cabin. Black and silver. Gold and copper. Crimson and black.

Each one looks exactly like the man who made it. They're the best gifts I've ever gotten.

The carving and the paint are lovely. What makes my throat tight is thinking of the three of them, night after night, sitting by the fire making something just for me. Nobody's ever done that before.

I'm still standing there admiring them when Rhydian clears his throat.

"There's one more present," he says.

I turn around. "Another one?"

"Something we planned together." He glances at the others. They're all wearing the same mysterious little smiles. "But you'll need your cloak."

Zarek helps me into my cloak, now dry and mended, and fastens it at my throat. Then they lead me out the door.

Into the garden.

I love this garden. I discovered it a few days ago, when the snow first let up long enough for me to step outside, and I've been out here every chance I've gotten since.

It shouldn't exist. That's what I keep thinking.

Beyond the old iron fence, the forest is buried in snow so deep it would swallow me whole. But inside the fence, there's only a light dusting of white, like powdered sugar on a cake. And underneath it, everything is alive.

Roses bloom along the paths. Winter roses, deep red and pale pink and white, their petals edged with frost. Evergreen shrubs. Vines heavy with little white flowers climbing all over the fence. Beds of herbs I recognize and some I don't, green and fragrant, growing like it's spring. Stone paths wind between them all, and in the very center, a little stone fountain bubbles away like it's never even heard of winter.

Rhydian swore there are warm springs under the ground. I don't believe him for a second. There's something strange about this place. Something magic.