Advent Story Train

Welcome to the Advent Calendar Story Train, where you can read through 24 stories under this year's theme, Lost.

Blind Snow

He shuffled the deck of cards and pushed it across the table. A line of rime followed in its path sparkling in the low lamplight. His resemblance to the Claus was remarkable. Same twinkle in his eye, same flush of scarlet in his cheeks. The only difference was the chin. Where the Claus had a full beard of tumbling curls, his cousin, Frost, was clean-shaven. The cut of his jawline as sharp as his name.

            “Deal,” he said, his eyes a dare.

            “One more hand,” Sanna agreed. Outside, a drunk was slurring his way through Silent Night. Badly. Jagged ice crystals reached across the windowpanes, obscuring the singer. She nodded. Another game was at least a way to pass the time. More importantly, it was a way to keep her nerve with the Snow King.

            Sanna distributed the cards slowly, her eyes fixed to the pattern on their back. Initially, she hadn’t noticed the picture was falling snowflakes on an ashen field. As she sped up, the flakes appeared to move. After she handed out the sixth card for each of them, she rubbed the tips of her fingers, oddly numb.

            “What are the stakes?” asked Frost, casually. Too casually. Sanna looked up, her eyes narrowed. He hadn’t picked up his cards yet. The air around him seemed to shift, shimmer. “Or it can be a friendly game.”

“I didn’t know you played friendly games,” she replied, stiffly. Her feet were cold. She’d discarded strappy heels hours ago in favor of bare feet on the hardwood. The human world was no place for a workshop elf. The footwear alone was enough to drive her to their current deal. They were red, a festive shade for the season and matched the cocktail dress with the distinct insignia that had gotten her spotted by Frost in the first place.

            A calculated risk.

               He picked up his cards and spread them his hand. She did the same, a snapping sound issuing from them like a lady’s fan unfurled on a hot day. Frost winced at the sound. It gave Sanna perverse pleasure to make him uncomfortable. She chuckled. Frost’s eyes narrowed in response, but he covered the slip by scanning the cards in his hand.

“Let’s say, a prize,” he replied, eyes still on his cards.

            “What kind of prize? I already promised you five seasons at the ice factory just to make my plea,” she bit out. Not that she’d known the price.

            “Blind Snow,” he said, amusement teasing the corners of his lips. She frowned and put the cards down, sharply.

            “Spell it out. I’ve recently learned I prefer to know the terms before I commit to anything,” she said, hot tears threatening. Her choice had been made a year ago when she’d gotten lost during the Christmas run. When she’d missed the final call for the sleigh. And now she sat across from the only being who could contact the Claus and make him aware of her plight.

He sighed and lowered his cards as though setting down a heavy burden. The temperature of the room dipped dramatically, causing Sanna to shiver.

            “That’s not how Blind Snow works,” he began. Sanna crossed her arms. “Winner gets an unnamed favor. Nothing untoward or against the laws of our realm. Nothing outside our ability to bestow.” The twinkle in his eye took on a roguish gleam. It wasn’t unattractive. Under different circumstances she may have given in to the unexpected flutter in her stomach. But she knew the rumors. It was well known that the Snow King only searched for lovers in the human realm. They came willingly—eagerly even—but never lasted long in a world made of ice. Then they returned never to be bothered again. Unless they called for him with the insignia she’d embroidered, discreetly, on her dress. Once he’d realized she was an elf needing his help, his interest had cooled, and the deal had been struck. A deal she hadn’t realized she’d made.

            Sanna looked at the clock. A pale imitation to what they made at the workshop. Everything here seemed pale compared to the Northern Realms. The metal hands moved silently, but she felt the tick of every second beneath her skin. Unlike his cousin, the Claus could only come once a year. She was running out of time and the thought of another year lost in this world made her heart ache. Here, it was cold in a way that it never was at home. She had to get back.

            11:45 pm

            “So, no asking to take your throne?” she asked, flippantly.

            “You can try.” He said it and she thought she glimpsed the words in the curls of his icy breath. That one breath held ache and hope and something else. It reflected every exhale of her lost year.

Not just lost. Trapped.

It never occurred to Sanna that Frost, the Snow King, felt just as lost and trapped as she did here as he did in his cold kingdom. Why else would he seek out humans that burned with the warmth of a sun that bit harder than the gnawing chill? She didn’t want to agree, but she wasn’t unmoved by the slip of his cool façade. Almost. Almost, she reached out and touched his hand, said she understood.

Almost.

Instead, she swallowed back her absolution and reshuffled the remaining cards in the deck reinserting the emperors.

“Blind Snow,” she said as the cards thrummed through her deft fingers. She slammed the pile down and smiled a predatory smile when he jumped in his seat. No matter what, she was going home.

They played in silence; Sanna because she had nothing to say and Frost because he didn’t want to miss a trick. They both knew that she was the superior player, but he had inhuman luck.

She kept her face passive and Frost did the same. She split her glances between her hand, which contained the possibility of two high snowfalls and his eyes, now a turbulent blue.

Outside, the drunk’s song had switched to Here Comes Santa Claus and Sanna wondered if he was part of a taunt. With his hiccups and slurring, the song sounded minor. The wind picked up outside, the windowpanes shook.

11:55 pm

“He’s early,” she said, a seed of hope blooming in her chest. Frost nodded, eyes still on the cards. Lights flickered. He pulled a card from the deck.

An emperor card. Diamonds, glittering like snowfall. Appropriate. He’d won. He always did. No one gambled like someone who had nothing to lose.

Seconds later, the Claus descended the chimney.

He was dressed for the sleigh. She couldn’t help the bittersweet smile.

Lousy timing.

Already she felt the nip of Frost as he rose from his seat. The Claus frowned in his direction.

A locket in the shape of a snowflake dangled from Frost’s fingers. When he placed it over her head the sudden chill momentarily stole her breath. She knew it had been captured in the locket. Her pledge. For what, she still didn’t know. He bent and placed a kiss on her cheek, the warmth of his lips startling.

“Congratulations,” said the Claus, but more as a question. A silent communication passed between the cousins, leaving Sanna lost in the exchange.

“Thank you, cousin,” Frost replied. “I believe you already know my new queen.”

Sanna grabbed the deck and held them tight. Blind Snow, indeed.

            For now, she thought.

Thank you for reading today’s story. The next story will be available to read sometime on the 24th December, titled “Missing In Action". This link will be active tomorrow when the post goes live.

If you missed yesterday’s you can go and read it here.