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At that moment, August catches sight of our parents milling about beneath the front awning of the palace entrance. Releasing December’s hand, she races up to them. “MooOoOoom! Wynn’s behaving outside the confines of his highest identity again!”

I grumble, “Dad, August’s using too many big words again.”

Dad sighs while Mom frames August’s cheeks and squishes their noses together. “Now, honey, life isn’t a high school essay. You’re allowed to be concise.”

August huffs, drama incarnate. “Husband, I feel faint.”

“It’s all those big words. They take up a lot of air,” Alister comments as he steps in to catch her ridiculous swoon.

“Et tu, Brute?” August murmurs before her head drops back into the crook of his arm.

December’s smile widens, dimples remaining on display, while my father makes note that we’re just waiting on his mother now.

As soon as Granee arrives and the greetings conclude, December all but drags me inside, where she heckles Alister to provide the staff with our tickets.

Upon entry, lavishness encases us. Christmas music rises in the air above the hum of voices. Lights and trees and case after case after case of gingerbread houses larger than me line the burgundy carpet. Tall windows with violet drapes display an inner courtyard buzzing with food stands, decorations, and even more trees.

The whole scene is picture perfect already, but…

“Wynn-Wynn.” December gasps, settling her hands on the sill of one iced window. Wonder captures her, taking my breath away. “Look… Flurries.”

Though it’s physically painful, I drag my attention off her to look outside. With so much light around, the sky is a midnight stretch of ebony, broken only by polka-dots of white.

Peace grips me when December looks up into my eyes, and I lose myself to her anew. My heart, soul, and mind kneel, smitten. Ignoring everything else swirling around us, I cup her precious face and kiss her as though my life depends on it. Because…maybe it does.

Maybe it always has.

Chapter 14

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It’s beginning to look a lot like trauma…

December

Wynnter is kissing me. In public. While we’re standing before a frosted window displaying a Christmas world. While snow trickles from the night sky. While classical music plays. While stunning artwork fills all the elegant halls around us.

Leeann, a queen if I’ve ever known one, hushes August’s cry of distress and herds the rest of her family toward the nearest gingerbread sculpture, where she proceeds to petition adequate oohs and ahhs.

In short, everything is perfect.

The most perfect anything has ever been.

Breaking the kiss, Wynnter tucks a strand of my dark hair back over my ear, scans my face, and gets stuck with his eyes on my lips once more. He leans in, whispering, “Dece.”

I let my eyes close.

His breath touches me, then his lips, then—

“Devina!” Abject. Horror.

The name I abandoned cuts through the pristine picture, shredding into my soul and shattering my heart.

I’d know that voice anywhere.

It’s my mother’s.

Jolting, I find the woman among the perfection, and terror slashes me open.