Kraved by Krampus (Yule Be Mine Monster)

21. Krampus

Chapter twenty-one

Krampus

T he fire in Nicholas’s study casts dancing shadows across the mahogany walls, a cheerful warmth that irritates me in my current mood.

Everything about his space exudes comfort—from the plush armchair I’m currently occupying to the endless shelves of leather-bound books organized by subject rather than author or title. How does he get anything done in such disorder?

My old friend sits across from me in his favorite chair, his lean frame draped in that signature red robe lined with white fur. The bells on his belt chime softly as he leans forward to pour more cocoa into my untouched mug.

“The young ones in Stockholm have shown remarkable progress.” I force myself to focus on our discussion about the magical children. “Their control over elemental magic grows stronger each day.”

Nicholas strokes his white beard, a knowing twinkle in his eyes. “And the ones in your academy? How are they faring?”

“Well enough. Though some still struggle with—” My words trail off as memories of Clara’s newfound abilities surface unbidden. The temperature in the room drops several degrees.

“My friend.” Nicholas sets his mug down with a gentle clink. He waves a hand and the fire in the hearth grows. “We’ve known each other for centuries. I recognize when something troubles you. These children aren’t what’s on your mind, are they?”

Damn his perceptiveness. Ice crystals form along the rim of my mug and shadows swirl around my fingertips.

“Your silence speaks volumes.” He leans back, studying me with those ancient eyes that see far too much. “Could this be related to your visitor—the one you would claim was unexpected, though we both know better?”

The crystals spread across the surface of my chocolate. “I do not wish to discuss it.”

“The same guest who managed to bypass the ancient wards? The one whose magic signature has been intertwining with yours?”

A growl rumbles in my chest. “Nicholas—”

“The one who’s clearly captured your attention so thoroughly you haven’t heard a word I’ve said about the Norwegian delegation?”

Had he mentioned Norway? The flames from the fire cause my horns to cast twisted shadows on the wall as I shift uncomfortably in my seat.

“Krampus.” Nicholas’s voice carries that infuriating mix of patience and amusement he’s perfected over the centuries. “You’re freezing my favorite cocoa set.”

I release my death grip on the delicate porcelain mug, now completely encased in ice. Damn. With a wave of my hand, I banish the ice, but the shadows still dance at my feet, betraying my agitation.

“I have duties to attend to.” Rising from the overstuffed armchair, I turn toward the door, but Nicholas’s next words stop me cold.

“Like brooding in your study?” He adjusts one of the ornaments adorning his desk—one of the countless ones in his study, each one a memento from some act of kindness or generosity he’s so proud of. “Or perhaps avoiding the woman who’s awakened something in you?”

Something in me? More like everything. The thought slips through before I can crush it.

My claws extend involuntarily, scoring the back of the chair I now stand behind. “The children need guidance. The academy—”

“Has run smoothly for centuries. It can wait a little longer.” He gestures to the chair I’ve just vacated. “Sit. Talk to me.”

The fire crackles merrily in the hearth, its heat a contrast to the ice in my veins. Everything about his study seems to mock me with its warmth—from the well-worn leather volumes of children’s stories to the perpetually steaming pot of hot chocolate on his desk. Even the air smells of nutmeg and peppermint.

I remain standing. “There’s nothing to discuss.”

Nicholas raises one silver eyebrow, reminding me why he’s been such an effective diplomat between the magical realms. “The temperature in my study suggests otherwise.”

Stubborn old saint. I cross my arms, my shadow stretching impossibly large across his wall of achievement plaques and thank-you letters from children. “Your concern is noted. And unnecessary.”

“Ah yes, because you’re handling everything so well on your own.” He picks up a gingerbread cookie from the ever-full plate beside him. “That’s why you’re here, seeking my counsel while pretending not to.”

A low growl escapes me. The shadows writhe, and several of his precious ornaments rattle on their shelves. But Nicholas just continues dunking his cookie in his hot chocolate, unperturbed by my display. He’s known me too long to be intimidated.

“I don’t need—”

“To talk about how she hurt you?” His voice softens. “Or how you’re afraid she might be right to reject what you’ve done?”

The words hit like a physical blow. Ice spreads across the floor from where I stand, creeping toward his bookshelves. She didn’t reject what I’ve done. She rejected who I am.

With a huff that sends frost spiraling across the windows, I drop back into the chair. The leather creaks beneath my weight, and I resist the urge to shred the armrests with my claws.

Nicholas’s laughter rings through the study. “And you wonder why we’re so good at handling difficult children? You’re displaying all the classic signs.” He waves his cookie at me. “Pouting included.”

I do not pout. The shadows curl defensively around my feet.

“You know, her mother was just as stubborn.” Nicholas’s eyes grow distant, focused on memories. “Elizabeth had that same fire, that same raw talent. She came to me first, you remember? Terrified of what she could do with her magic.”

My chest tightens at the mention of Elizabeth. “I remember.”

“Elizabeth came to me scared of hurting those around her. Her magic was... unpredictable.” Nicholas sets his cookie down, brushing crumbs from his red robes. “Much like her daughter’s is becoming.”

The shadows around my feet twist into abstract patterns. “Elizabeth knew what she was. Clara remains unaware.”

“By design, my friend. By her mother’s design.” He reaches for an ornate silver box on his desk, opening it to reveal a collection of letters. “Elizabeth wrote to me often after that first visit. Her greatest fear wasn’t her own magic—it was what Clara’s would become.”

My claws dig into the leather armrests, restraint be damned. “What do you mean?”

Nicholas extracts a yellowed envelope, its edges worn soft with time. “She had visions of Clara’s power. Saw what she would become. The magic in her bloodline grows stronger with each generation. She knew what would happen if certain parties discovered her daughter’s potential. She never told me who Clara’s father was, but I have my suspicions.”

Ice crystals form in the air around us as understanding dawns. “That’s why she never told her daughter. She was protecting her.”

“From herself, yes. But more importantly...” He taps the letter against his palm, his usually jovial expression turning serious. “From those who would use her power for their own ends. Elizabeth knew Clara would need time to grow into her strength naturally. To develop the wisdom to wield it.”

The temperature in the room plummets further as fury builds in my chest. “Like how Victoria used her with that damn contract.”

“Precisely.” Nicholas waves his hand, and the fire roars higher to combat my chill. “Elizabeth knew there would be others who would sense Clara’s potential. She wanted her daughter to have a normal life until she was ready—until she had someone who could protect her while she came into her power.”

My horns catch the firelight as I lean forward. “You knew. All this time, you knew what Clara was.”

“I made a promise to Elizabeth.” He carefully returns the letter to its box. “To watch over her daughter from afar and shield her as best I could until the right moment—until she found her way to you.”

The shadows around me freeze in place. “ Me? ”

“Elizabeth’s last vision before she disappeared showed Clara with you. She saw you teaching her daughter to embrace both light and shadow.” A small smile plays at the corners of his mouth. “Though I doubt she foresaw quite how literal that embrace would become.”

I growl at his attempt at humor, but my mind races with implications. Elizabeth saw us together. She knew...

“Which is why,” Nicholas continues, reaching for another cookie, “you need to stop hiding in my study and go back to her. Elizabeth trusted you would be the one to guide Clara through this transition. To show her that power—even dark power—isn’t something to fear when wielded with wisdom and love.”

Love. The word echoes in my mind like the toll of an ancient bell . My claws retract slightly from the ruined leather of Nicholas’s chair.

“Your wisdom is noted.” Rising to my full height, I let the shadows curl around me like a second cloak. “But sometimes wisdom and action occupy different realms.”

“Ah, so you admit I’m wise?” His eyes twinkle with that insufferable merriment. “I’ll mark this day on my calendar.”

A grunt escapes me as I move toward the door. The fire dims, responding to my darkening mood. “Don’t push your luck, old friend.”

“When will you return to her?”

My hand pauses on the doorknob, frost spreading from my touch. “When I’m ready.”

“And when will that be?”

When the memory of her denial stops feeling like a blade in my chest. “Soon enough.”

“The longer you wait—”

“The longer she has to discover her own strength.” Ice crystals form in the air as I speak. “As you said, Elizabeth wanted her to develop naturally.”

Nicholas sets his cocoa mug down with a soft clink. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

Drawing myself to my full height, I let my form shift slightly, allowing more of my true nature to show through. The shadows deepen, and the temperature plummets. “What you meant is irrelevant. I have duties to attend to.”

“Krampus—”

“The Norwegian delegation awaits, does it not?” My voice carries an edge sharp as midwinter ice. “Unless you were lying about that as well?”

His sigh fills the room with warmth that battles against my cold. “We both know you’re running.”

Running? I haven’t run from anything in centuries. The thought tastes like ash in my mouth as memories of her rejection surface again. My claws extend fully, scoring deep grooves in Nicholas’s expensive doorframe.

“I don’t run.” The growl in my voice makes the windows tremble. “I bide my time strategically.”

“Call it what you will.” He reaches for yet another cookie. “But remember, sometimes the things we run from chase us the fastest.”

The shadows writhe around me as I step through his door. “Save your proverbs for the children, Nicholas.”

His laughter follows me into the corridor. “We’re all children sometimes, old friend. Even ancient winter kings.”

I don’t dignify that with a response. Instead, I let the darkness swallow me whole, preparing to shadow-walk back to my realm. But as the magic swirls around me, I hesitate.

Clara.

Her name beats in my chest like a second heartbeat, painful and persistent. The rejection burns fresh in my memory, but underneath it lies something else. Something that tastes like possibility and feels like a spring thaw.

Damn you, Nicholas.

The shadows coalesce around me, ready to carry me wherever I command. Winterhaven and its newest resident wait to the west. The Norwegian delegation expects me in the east. Both obligations pull at me with equal force.

I choose neither.

Instead, I direct my magic north, toward the ancient forests where the first winter kings were crowned. If I’m going to face Clara again, I need to remember who—and what—I truly am.

A monster? A protector? Perhaps both.

The darkness claims me fully, and as I dissolve into shadow, one truth remains: I can’t avoid her forever.

But I can damn well take my time deciding what to do about it.