rivaling the beauty of Uncle Yvo’s tree.
“You never answered my question,” I said, leaning against Zubar.
“What question was that?”
“About the stream. It hasn’t always been mead, has it?”
“Things change over time,” Zubar said as he guided the sled toward a bright light shining through the trees. From the placement of the trees, I guessed this was some sort of road. I wondered where we were going. The stream meandered off. “Even here.”
“Where is here?”
Zubar glanced down at me. “Here is here.”
“How very Zen,” I teased him. “But ‘here’ has a name. What is the name of here?”
“It’s known by many names,” Zubar said evasively.
I sighed and sat back in the seat. I didn’t move away from him, though. I was annoyed he wasn’t answering my questions, but not mad at him.
“This is also a conversation I want to have when I can concentrate on you and not the road,” Zubar continued.
“I’ll miss the stream,” I remarked.
Zubar laughed. “There is a well in the palace that is even sweeter.”
“Palace?” I echoed.
“You will see it soon,” Zubar promised me, rattling the reins, urging the reindeer to pick up their speed. They leaped forward with a jerk, and it seemed that the Christmas tree forest faded away and we arrived at the mysterious palace, even though we hadn’t really moved.
The palace was dark brown, with beautiful stained glass windows. There were snowdrifts surrounding it, but in the clearing in front of the building, the pavement alternated brightly colored cobblestones with pastel flat rocks. It should have been garish and ugly, but there was a cheerful charm to the arrangement.
I felt terribly underdressed here, and wondered if I could just hide in the sleigh for the rest of my life. I was warm, and it wasn’t a bad place to be. I gazed at the palace, taking in the beauty, and it struck me what this place looked like—smelled like too. I was in front of a palace of gingerbread, and I was willing to believe the cobblestones were actually gumdrops. Where was I? Or was I dreaming all this, wanting some sort of magic in my life again?
Zubar jumped off the sleigh, handing the reins to a servant who had appeared out of nowhere. He looked familiar, but Zubar distracted me.
He turned and held out his hand. “Come with me.”
I took a deep breath, wondering why Zubar’s eyes seemed to bore through me. I noted the air smelled like spices and coffee, a wonderful comforting smell.
“Thijs,” Zubar murmured, his voice deep and coaxing.
I blinked, wondering if my eyes were playing tricks on me. Zubar was looking wooden again. He held himself stiffly, but with anticipation, as if he was expecting me to do something. I looked around, wondering why there was a stillness here. Not of peace, but as if the whole world was holding its breath.
I said nothing, but placed my hand in Zubar’s, pushing aside all thoughts of hiding in the sleigh until spring. Zubar helped me step out of the sleigh as I placed my feet on the ground, feeling a little strange, the craziness of the evening catching up to me as I swayed for a second.
I looked up at him. I noticed Zubar was the right height to just tilt his head down and kiss me. My breath quickened at the thought. Zubar shifted so his arm was around my waist, and I leaned against him, steadying myself. He anchored me, supporting me.
“Welcome to the Land der Süßigkeiten, Thijs,” Zubar said.
“The Land of Sweets,” I echoed dumbly, wondering why I understood German now. I had never heard of the place, but it sounded familiar all the same. That explained the palace. The whole place must be made of all sorts of confectionaries.
“You….”
“Me?” I prompted, when he seemed to have developed an inability to finish his sentences too.
Zubar sighed. “Later. I promise all of this will make some sort of sense later.”
“It doesn’t have to make sense,” I heard myself saying. “I trust
“You never answered my question,” I said, leaning against Zubar.
“What question was that?”
“About the stream. It hasn’t always been mead, has it?”
“Things change over time,” Zubar said as he guided the sled toward a bright light shining through the trees. From the placement of the trees, I guessed this was some sort of road. I wondered where we were going. The stream meandered off. “Even here.”
“Where is here?”
Zubar glanced down at me. “Here is here.”
“How very Zen,” I teased him. “But ‘here’ has a name. What is the name of here?”
“It’s known by many names,” Zubar said evasively.
I sighed and sat back in the seat. I didn’t move away from him, though. I was annoyed he wasn’t answering my questions, but not mad at him.
“This is also a conversation I want to have when I can concentrate on you and not the road,” Zubar continued.
“I’ll miss the stream,” I remarked.
Zubar laughed. “There is a well in the palace that is even sweeter.”
“Palace?” I echoed.
“You will see it soon,” Zubar promised me, rattling the reins, urging the reindeer to pick up their speed. They leaped forward with a jerk, and it seemed that the Christmas tree forest faded away and we arrived at the mysterious palace, even though we hadn’t really moved.
The palace was dark brown, with beautiful stained glass windows. There were snowdrifts surrounding it, but in the clearing in front of the building, the pavement alternated brightly colored cobblestones with pastel flat rocks. It should have been garish and ugly, but there was a cheerful charm to the arrangement.
I felt terribly underdressed here, and wondered if I could just hide in the sleigh for the rest of my life. I was warm, and it wasn’t a bad place to be. I gazed at the palace, taking in the beauty, and it struck me what this place looked like—smelled like too. I was in front of a palace of gingerbread, and I was willing to believe the cobblestones were actually gumdrops. Where was I? Or was I dreaming all this, wanting some sort of magic in my life again?
Zubar jumped off the sleigh, handing the reins to a servant who had appeared out of nowhere. He looked familiar, but Zubar distracted me.
He turned and held out his hand. “Come with me.”
I took a deep breath, wondering why Zubar’s eyes seemed to bore through me. I noted the air smelled like spices and coffee, a wonderful comforting smell.
“Thijs,” Zubar murmured, his voice deep and coaxing.
I blinked, wondering if my eyes were playing tricks on me. Zubar was looking wooden again. He held himself stiffly, but with anticipation, as if he was expecting me to do something. I looked around, wondering why there was a stillness here. Not of peace, but as if the whole world was holding its breath.
I said nothing, but placed my hand in Zubar’s, pushing aside all thoughts of hiding in the sleigh until spring. Zubar helped me step out of the sleigh as I placed my feet on the ground, feeling a little strange, the craziness of the evening catching up to me as I swayed for a second.
I looked up at him. I noticed Zubar was the right height to just tilt his head down and kiss me. My breath quickened at the thought. Zubar shifted so his arm was around my waist, and I leaned against him, steadying myself. He anchored me, supporting me.
“Welcome to the Land der Süßigkeiten, Thijs,” Zubar said.
“The Land of Sweets,” I echoed dumbly, wondering why I understood German now. I had never heard of the place, but it sounded familiar all the same. That explained the palace. The whole place must be made of all sorts of confectionaries.
“You….”
“Me?” I prompted, when he seemed to have developed an inability to finish his sentences too.
Zubar sighed. “Later. I promise all of this will make some sort of sense later.”
“It doesn’t have to make sense,” I heard myself saying. “I trust
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