TWO

A RIS

Aris Dryden was not a man known for his generosity.

He did not often give gifts, as he despised having to constantly outdo himself the next time.

Once, he might have thought to whisk Blythe away to some exotic locale, but with Elijah growing older, Aris recognized that family time held more value for his wife than any lavish trip.

Moreover, Blythe had changed over the nearly three decades since they’d been separated.

The last thing he wanted was to embarrass himself with a gift that no longer suited her tastes.

She was, of course, still Blythe. Her tongue was just as sharp and she was no less a menace now than she’d been twenty-seven years ago. But time had slipped away from him, and he’d been too distracted getting Wisteria and his new life in order to have considered what he might get her.

It needed to be spectacular . A gift that was worthy of the woman who had waited all these years for his return. The wife who, after all this time, had finally made her way back into his life.

What did one even get for a person that special?

He’d have to get her father something, too, of course.

Elijah had always been generous with him, and if Blythe was sharing gifts, then Elijah undoubtedly would be, as well.

Then there was his pest of a brother… good God, the list just kept growing.

He might as well start referring to himself as Saint Nicholas, as soon he would be expected to come bearing gifts for each of their new neighbors and their children.

Aris dragged his fingers down his face, groaning.

It would have been nice to discuss ideas with his brother, but Death’s wagging brows and devilish smirk suggested he knew Aris hadn’t yet secured a gift for Blythe.

He was right, obviously, but Aris would be damned before he let his buffoon of a brother know for sure.

Which led Aris to where he was now, pacing the halls in search of the single soul who might be able to help him navigate this conundrum.

He found Signa Farrow in, of all places, the room he’d gifted to Blythe twenty-seven Christmases prior.

It had been a library then, and he’d restored it to that state upon his return.

He would have returned to Wisteria sooner, had he been reborn with his memories.

Instead, Aris had been born to a family of dressmakers.

They were a good family, and he’d lived a relatively normal life as their son for twelve years.

Of course, he’d had his quirks—things he wanted would suddenly appear as he thought about them, the light always seeming to follow him in peculiar ways, skin that tended to have a faint glow, and a compulsive need to create that befuddled his family.

In an effort to satisfy that need, he’d decided to apprentice under his father, and it was then that Aris had begun to realize the extent of his abilities.

He’d learned more quickly than anyone in the trade and had crafted beautiful suits and gowns—some of which had even made their way into Blythe’s hands, hanging in her armoire when he’d returned to Wisteria.

She hadn’t known they were his, which meant more to him than she ever could have realized.

Even apart, they’d still found ways to be with each other.

Aris had spent seven years running his own shop, though the work was little more than a front as he dove deeper into his powers, realizing that his creative prowess extended well beyond clothing.

The first time he’d crafted a tapestry and experienced the life of the fate he wove, Aris believed himself mad or dying.

But as the urge to craft another and another struck in a hungry cycle, he realized there was something more to it.

A curious magic that only he experienced.

It did not help that he chased his own memories with every stitch, weaving some nights until his fingers bled and he lost all sense of self, simply because he knew there was something more.

He would find himself reminiscing over a laugh from a voice he’d never heard and the sweetness of lips he had never tasted.

For years Aris hunted down those hints of Blythe—those glimpses of his past life—until he remembered who and what he was.

He had left his shop to find Blythe that same night and had become lost in her maze of briars not an hour later.

It wasn’t until he’d stepped back through the doors of Wisteria Gardens with his wife in hand that his soul felt whole again.

Still, the sight had been jarring.

Wisteria’s walls had all been painted with murals of Blythe’s memories.

He’d expected her to abandon the palace, yet there were signs of her everywhere he looked.

He’d even been able to see the phantom progression of her growth into her powers.

Several walls had been torn apart with vines that eroded the stone.

Certain rooms were made entirely uninhabitable, filled with thorns he never wished to think about.

On the outside, though, was a garden well-tended, with flourishing hellebore and wolfsbane.

Daisies and roses and flowers so beautiful they seemed as if from a dream.

His chest had ached thinking about all he’d missed, though he was glad Blythe was on her way to mastering her powers even without his help.

He supposed he had his brother and sister-in-law to thank for that…

Signa sat beneath a towering Christmas tree strewn with flickering candles and dusted white.

Gaudy ornaments covered branches so well decorated that Aris had to squint to see any of the greenery.

Her dark hair was tied haphazardly atop her head as bows and wrapping paper surrounded her.

Death’s hound lay beside her, one eye half opened.

When Gundry spotted Aris, his tail began thumping against the floor, causing Signa to look up.

“Stop where you are,” she demanded, her eyes narrowing as she shielded a present from view. “Give me a moment before you spoil the surprise.”

It took him a beat to realize that it’d been his present Signa was wrapping, and he tried not to look as horrified by that as he felt.

He was lucky there was still several days left until Christmas. Several days to, apparently, find superbly wonderful gifts to shower upon everyone he knew. Which was why he was there, tossing back his tailcoat to take a seat on the floor in front of Signa Farrow once she gave her permission.

“Hello, sister.” He wondered whether the day might ever come where he did not feel a faint sense of strangeness around her.

How ridiculous his past self had been to believe that she could have been his soulmate.

Signa was just so… well, she was odd. He’d tried to believe the quirks charming back when he was pursuing her, but now Aris often wondered whether they’d ever had anything in common.

It was unlikely. Signa’s curious tendencies made her a suitable fit for his brother, certainly, as Death was every bit as strange as this dark-haired oddity.

But for Aris? Had he managed to force Signa into a marriage, all of them would have suffered for it.

How fortunate it was that Blythe had intervened.

“Have my cousin’s preparations driven you into hiding?” Signa teased, cutting a red ribbon and tying it around a small box.

“More like her insistence on a perfect Christmas.” He sighed, scratching Gundry behind the ears. “It’s the requirement of gifts that brings me here.”

She raised a dark brow. “I’m not giving you yours early.”

He wished she would, just so that he could find her one of equal measure. The last thing he wanted was to receive something extraordinary from anyone only to return the favor with some trifle.

Sorting out what gifts to get the others was exceptionally more difficult than he’d anticipated.

“I wouldn’t dare ask,” he told her before leaning in conspiratorially, hoping that it might draw Signa’s interest. Sure enough, she followed his lead and leaned in to listen. “You see, I seem to have found myself with a problem.”

She set down her supplies, more eager than he’d expected. “What sort of problem?”

“The sort where I need my sister-in-law’s help to acquire the perfect gift for my wife… as well as for my father-in-law and my brother. And you, too, of course. Though I couldn’t very well ask your help for that.”

“No, you couldn’t.” She leaned back and tried to continue with her wrapping.

Gundry wasn’t making it easy on her, flopping onto his back with his bushy gray tail swiping her supplies around like a mop.

Aris tried not to laugh at the hound’s ridiculousness or encourage him, but the creature reminded him of his fox, Beasty, and the memory stung his heart.

Beasty was the only one he’d truly lost. Were he able to do it over again, Aris would have liked the chance to say goodbye.

“I cannot help you with this, Aris,” Signa told him. “Gifts are a personal thing, and for those like us, the possibilities are endless. We want for nothing.”

“But surely there must be something we desire? A diamond necklace, perhaps?”

Signa fished out a pair of shears from beneath the hound’s tail. “I’m sure she would like a necklace…”

“But?”

“But it’s not very personal. Blythe could get herself a diamond necklace any day she wants. She already has several.”

He groaned and leaned back, head resting on the hound’s exposed belly. “This is impossible.”

“That’s because you’re thinking too hard. Blythe has the only thing she’s wanted for decades. She has you back at Wisteria, and all of those she cares most about around her. Now, all she wants is an uneventful and merry Christmas.”

“An uneventful Christmas,” he echoed, chewing on the words. Surely he could give her that, though he still needed something to gift her. “I suspect we can manage that.”

“I believe we can,” Signa said. “And now that you’re here, you might as well help me with the wrapping.” She pushed a small pile of empty boxes toward him, stacks of dolls and toys lined up behind them. Aris picked up one of the dolls, inspecting it.

“Why are there so many? Have you and my brother found a way to procreate after all?” he mused. “Should I expect little deathlings running about soon, terrorizing me from the shadows?”

Signa shot him a bland look. “Very funny. The toys are for the children at the hospital.”

Ah yes. Blythe had mentioned something about Signa’s new employment, but he’d forgotten the specifics.

“How are you enjoying your time there?”

“I do good work,” she said, finishing off the next gift box. “Hospitals are full of souls too afraid to pass on.”

It was a strange job, but they each had their own.

While Death could ferry souls to the other side, it was Signa who helped spirits stuck in the land of the living.

It was admirable, he supposed, though he imagined so many dead people would give him nightmares.

He’d much rather stick around those still living.

Still, Aris held one of the dolls in hand, his eyes beginning to simmer a fearsome shade of gold.

Beneath his fingers the fabric grew brighter, the doll’s hair shimmering and its clothes taking on a luxurious hue.

Within the span of a second the toy changed from basic to luxurious, and Aris moved on to the next.

He made it different from the last, though just as beautiful, and Signa smiled.

“So you can be kind.”

“Silence, wench.” He tossed the doll aside for the next one. “I’ve a reputation to maintain.”

Gundry shuffled behind them, scooting closer to the hearth. Though he looked very much like a large but otherwise perfectly normal hound, Aris knew the truth of what the beast was. He was there the day that his brother had first met Gundry.

His brother, who Aris still very much needed a gift for.

“Would you at least tell me what you got Sylas?” Aris asked, not expecting Signa’s cheeks to immediately flush a deep red.

“It’s between him and me,” she said, and Aris wrinkled his nose, deciding some things were better left unknown.

Still, it did give him at least some ideas.

All Blythe needed to do was show up in their room wearing only a bow, and he’d consider it the greatest gift he’d ever received.

Unfortunately, he didn’t suspect his wife would feel the same.

“You know, I was really hoping you’d be more helpful,” he told Signa as he finished the dolls, moving on to tying a red bow on Gundry’s collar.

“I’m sorry to be such a disappointing sister. I am happy you’re back, though.”

He was running out of things to fiddle with, and as such was forced to look solely at Signa as he replied. “As am I. You cannot know how much it means to see you all again.”

It was strange, who he was becoming. For ages pain had hardened Aris’s heart, but these days it was nearly impossible to be angry or bitter. Grumpy, perhaps. He was still quite good at being grumpy. But the rage that had long been burning within him had fizzled out.

How could he be angry when he now had so many reasons to feel joy? These days he felt so much lighter. Contented. Happy .

Aris was truly and blissfully happy, and he had this family to thank for it. Which was why finding the perfect gifts meant so much to him. These people had changed his life; it was only fair that he at least made their day special.

He scooted one of Signa’s boxes toward himself, his mind sorting through various possibilities.

Signa was not one who needed to fill silence with words, and they worked in a steady quiet, packaging and decorating the gift boxes, and stopping only when a sudden crash sounded against the library’s bookshelves.

Gundry leapt to his paws beside Aris, who quickly put himself between Signa and the sound.

The hound’s hackles raised, a low growl rumbling in his throat.

He was pointed directly at the shelves, where several books lay scattered as if by some invisible gust. Aris moved toward them, bending to inspect the novels.

“What on earth…”

“Oh.” Signa covered her mouth, muffling her words. “Oh dear.”

Aris turned to find that she was not looking at him, but rather over his shoulder, and with great frustration he found that he recognized the look on her face. He’d seen it all those years ago, during the ball at Foxglove, when spirits had terrorized unsuspecting guests.

There was a spirit in this room, and the realization had Aris slumping onto the chaise with a sigh.

So much for an uneventful Christmas.