The dawn outside is gray and cold. Fritzi is still asleep; from her gentle, huffing snores, I know Liesel is too. I stay perfectly still, unwilling to break this moment. Even asleep in the dead of night, we found our way into each other’s arms. I close my eyes, wishing for this moment to last. I smell her skin, her hair,her.
With a soft sigh, Fritzi stirs. My arms tighten around her. Her body tenses in confusion then relaxes into acceptance. She wiggles around so that she can face me.
“Good morning,” she whispers, nestling into my arms.
We are millimeters from each other, and while a day ago I would have denied myself this temptation, I have no desire to ever deny myself anything when it comes to her. I lift my arm, brushing aside her blond hair and exposing her neck. My fingers trail along her soft skin, and she shivers, a delicious sensation that electrifies my body.
I lean up just enough to lick the shell of her ear and whisper, “It will only be a good morning after I have had a good night with you.”
She arches up, her arms snaking around my neck and pulling meagainst her. My mouth trails down her jaw, nibbling and kissing andtasting. She is a feast I will spend the rest of my life starving for.
Fritzi stiffens. “Liesel is waking up,” she whispers.
“Bespell that child to sleep more,” I groan.
Fritzi smacks me gently, but not before I see a gleam of contemplation in her eyes, as if she is really considering my suggestion.
“Is there any krapfen left?” Liesel asks without opening her eyes.
Fritzi bats my hands away when I try to keep my hold on her. Groaning, I roll away from her, trying to realign my mind with the tasks at hand rather than indulge my body in the fantasies it wants to make real.
“You ate it all,” Fritzi says.
Liesel shoots up. “If there’s any outside, I’m eating that.”
“That’s an offering for the forest folk!” Fritzi protests.
“Maybe they left some for me!”
Liesel darts outside, and Fritzi and I both follow. She skids to a stop in front of the little altar of snow they made last night.
The krapfen is gone. While it’s possible an animal came and snatched the food, the bottle I left is gone as well.
In its place is a different bottle, made of rare bright blue glass, not pottery, and stoppered with a wax seal.
Both Liesel and Fritzi turn from the bottle to me, eyes wide.
“Is that…normal?” I ask.
Liesel shakes her head, blond braids snapping. “I always leave out an offering at Yule, and I never get anything back.”
“No one does,” Fritzi says. “We leave the gifts because it’s tradition. But…”
But someone left a gift for us in return.
“I think it’s for you,” Fritzi adds, rubbing her finger over the vivid color.
“Why did they have to leave beer?” Liesel mutters. “They could have given us more pastries.”
I step forward, my hands shaking as I reach for the bottle. It’s cold from being stuck in the snow, but the insides are still liquid, dark brown.
“Should I…?” I ask.
“Drink it?” Fritzi says, although her tone is a little doubtful. “Maybe. Open it, for sure, but smell it first…?”
I peel away the wax and yank out the cork. There’s a hiss and a pop, the sign of a fresh beer. I sniff the content—nutmeg.
It…can’t be…
