23
The stuffy air circulating the White Tower was giving Stella a headache. Seeking a way to clear her mind, she left Alice in the Great Hall with the chatting Yule Lads and ascended a spiral staircase to the roof. Her breaths clouded in the colder, barren walkways as she reached the top. Pulling open a heavy, oak door, she stepped outside. It was snowing gently. No wind, just peace.
Finally, she thought. I’m alone.
Two glass prisms covered most of the squarish roof, and a stone path bordered the edge for guards to patrol the battlements. There were four spires, each tipped with an onion-shaped dome and a gold weathervane.
‘Ah, Stella,’ came a deep voice that made her jump. ‘Just the elf I wanted to see.’
She spun on her heels to face Oberon.
‘My king.’
‘What are you doing up here?’
