Chapter 1

1

Lunabelle

“ L una! I got you something.” Mom comes prancing into the kitchen looking refreshed and happy after her afternoon shopping spree in the village. Thank goodness, because she was in a rotten mood earlier. “Oh! Those are prettier than the ones you made earlier. Now, you may actually stand a chance at winning the competition.”

I smile down at my little masterpieces. They are pretty. But I still think the North Star I made this morning is my favorite. In spite of what my mother says, I think that’s the one I’ll be entering into the cookie competition. Although, my Santa head is quite a work of art. It’s the spitting image of him.

“Thanks, Mom. Do you want one of the extras?” I’ve already hidden away my star so she won’t eat it. She’s done that to me on a few occasions: eaten the one I intended to enter into the contest. Of course, she tells me she didn’t realize her mistake, but I think there was a little more intent behind her actions. But maybe she was right, because the cookies I ended up entering instead, won.

“You know I’m trying to cut the sweets.” Her eyes drift down to my hips, and the message is received. She thinks I need to lay off the cookies, too, but I’m not going on a diet during the holidays. That’s silly. “Besides, I don’t want to ruin my dinner. I’m baking lemon sole tonight and a carrot soufflé.”

Wow. She only ever makes dinner for Christmas. She must really be in a good mood.

“What’s the special occasion, Mom?” I place my last batch of cookies onto the counter, cooled and ready to decorate. I can’t decide between the pearly white icing or the shimmery pink for the last snowflake.

“We’re having company for dinner. Which is why I got this for you.”

I turn and see her pulling out a green velvet dress from her shopping bag. She holds it up to herself to show me, and I’m shocked by how short it is; it’s barely knee-length on her and I’m taller. And it’s surprisingly fitted, too, looking as though it will cling to all my little elf curves. Not to mention how low cut the sweetheart neckline is. It’s not exactly something I would’ve ever chosen for myself, but it’s pretty, I guess. Although, it’s way too formal for a dinner at home. It’s something one would wear to the Christmas Eve dance or to the Sugar Plum Festival. Not unless we’re having a special guest for dinner.

“Is Santa Claus coming for dinner?” My stomach flutters with excitement. It’s the only explanation for all the extravagance on a normal Tuesday night. Maybe Dad invited Santa for a nice hot meal before they continue with the Christmas preparations.

“No.” She smiles broadly, as if our guests are going to be even better than Santa. But there is no one better than Santa Claus. “The Bellflakes are coming over.”

My cheer meter instantly deflates, dropping to a negative, and the cookie in my hand crumbles. That means Quill is coming over. Now I understand why my mother’s going to all the trouble, and why she’s trying to dress me up like a starlet. For some unelfly reason she wants me to marry the obnoxious elf. She’s mentioned it on more than one occasion, saying how “exciting” it would be if we were to get married because then her grandelves would be of elder blood. She says we’d make the most perfect elf couple in all of Christmas Village, but I highly disagree. Elder blood or not, Quill has a way of sucking the joy out of the room, and his smug arrogance is beyond infuriating. He’s the last elf I would ever choose to marry, yet my mother fails to listen and is still trying to force the issue.

“So, why can’t I wear this?” I ask, pointing down to my clothes. I think my candy cane flannel pants and ugly sweater are perfect for the company we’ll be keeping. In fact, it’s almost too good for the pointy elf with his very pointed opinions on everything .

“Because you’re coated in flour, Lunabelle. There’s icing in that mop of a bun on your head and streaked on your cheeks, and besides, you want to look your best for Quill. Show him how beautiful you are under all that sugar and vanilla.”

Another cookie becomes a victim to my irritation. I love my mother dearly, but sometimes, she can get on my last nerve. I’m only twenty, though she acts like I’m an old spinster who needs to find a husband before I turn into a shriveled-up prune. She’s also made it very clear that this house is too small for the three of us and all my cookies, although she rarely uses the kitchen, so I don’t see the problem. But for some reason, she hates that I’m always baking in it.

“Now, why don’t you run along and get cleaned up. I’ll tidy up this giant mess while I’m cooking.” She stiffens her upper lip as she looks around the rather clean kitchen. I’ve already washed all the dishes and put everything away. And my decorations are all contained in a bin, but my mother is always one to over dramatize the amount of work she has to do so it’s of no surprise.

She lays the velvet dress over my shoulder and shakes her head as she looks my face over. “And make sure you scrub behind your ears. I’m sure you have icing back there too.”

I try my best not to stomp out of the room. It’s almost Christmas and I don’t want to do anything to land myself on Santa’s naughty list. Then instead of getting the new cookie-decorating set I want, I’ll end up getting a lump of coal, which I’m sure Quill will be more than happy to deliver in my stocking Christmas morning. He takes so much pride in his awful job. No one enjoys being the coal giver to all the naughty boys and girls, but Quill does. He begged Santa for the position, and brags how much fun it is to watch the kids’ disappointment. Personally, I don’t even think he has a joy meter.

When the doorbell chimes, I look toward the back door, contemplating my escape from the one who insists on annoying the dickens out of me, but my mother will be furious. “Luna, darling, can you get that?” I hang my head back on my shoulders and release a silent scream. It may not be very elfly of me, but it’s better than screaming at our guest.

I take a deep breath and plaster on my fake smile before I open the door for our guests. “Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Bellflake. It’s so good to see you.”

The two kind elders enter, each greeting me with hugs, and then…in struts their smug son who thinks he’s better than Santa Claus. Quill thinks that because he’s the tallest elf in Christmas Village, with the pointiest ears and nose, that he’s a Christmas wish to all of us females. I personally think he’s a pompous twit who loves to eavesdrop with those big ears and looks down on everyone with that big pointy nose. His personality makes him hideous in my book, yet my mother insists that he’s swoon worthy and that I’m the luckiest elf because he has his eyes set on me.

I’d rather he have his eyes on anyone other than me. The way he’s looking at me makes my skin crawl. His stare is locked on my chest while his pointy tongue runs across his lips. Gross. Not to mention our parents are standing right next to us, watching his overt reaction. But being couth isn’t exactly his strong suit. Everything about him is immature and inappropriate.

“Hello, Lunabelle. You look scrumptious tonight.” He reaches for my hand and pulls it to his mouth, making a grand display of kissing my fingers as I internally cringe. Quill can feign chivalry all he wants, but it doesn’t make up for his cocky attitude. As soon as he releases me, I wipe the back of my hand off on my dress, wanting to rush into the bathroom and wash his germs away. “I brought this for dessert.”

He hands me a prune berry pie, and I want to plug my nose so I don’t gag, but I’m not going to be rude. I may not like the guy, and prune berry may be absolutely repulsive, but I’m going to be gracious toward our guests.

“Thank you,” I say, contemplating dropping the thing as I take it from him. I’d love to watch the stinky goop slide down his pants and cover the small pointy thing that’s now protruding between his legs. For such a “tall” elf, there isn’t much of a point below the belt.

“I also made cookies for dessert.” I smile at my unelfly thought, reminding myself that I need to be a pleasant elf and think kind thoughts, not naughty ones. Santa can sense when we’ve been good or bad even in our sleep, so I need to remember the fact.

“That was kind of you,” Quill says, turning his pointy nose up to the air. “But I detest sugar cookies. The sickly sweetness and all the sprinkles”—he shivers in disgust—“makes me want to gag.”

The pie almost launches from my hand smack into his face. He hates sugar cookies? But I’m the cookie queen. I win the Christmas cookie contest every year. I’m the lucky girl who gets to make cookies for all the town events. Weddings, baby showers, the Christmas Eve dance—I’m the one they order from. Quill knows this, but he’s sitting here stating his very pointed opinion, which goes against everything I stand for. And yes, he’s allowed to have his opinion, but how could my mother possibly think we’d be great together when he doesn’t even like the one thing that I live for? I love making cookies.

“Luna.” My mother nudges me in the shoulder, hitting me with a look of warning. She knows exactly what I’m thinking. That the cookie-hating elf needs to take his pie and get out of my house. “Why don’t you take that dessert he brought into the kitchen and bring out the appetizers I made?”

I nod, thankful to get away from the jerk who hates Christmas cookies . If my mother thinks I’ll be marrying the twit now, she’s delusional. I’d rather marry Scrooge who hates Christmas than an opinionated prick who hates what I love.

I slam the pie down and silently release another scream, trying to get my anger under control and remind myself that I just need to get through dinner and then I can make it very clear to my mother that if she ever wants grandelves, she’s going to have stop placing her bet on Quill Bellflake because that’s never going to happen. EVER.

“Did you hear that another boogeyman was caught lurking in the Enchanted Forest?” I nearly trip over my feet and drop the cheeseball as I hear Mrs. Bellflake’s comment. “The Keepers sent word to Santa this morning. Every year without fail.” She shakes her head.

“What happens every year?” I ask, placing the plate down on the coffee table. This is the first I’m hearing of this. My mother doesn’t speak of the Keepers too much, other than to say that they’re terrifying and hideous, and we must keep to our side of the forest. All I know is that they are giants who guard the North Pole and are hairy beasts.

“Oh.” My mom shakes her head, waving it off like it’s no big deal. “Some creature will inevitably attempt to ruin Christmas. But thanks to the Keepers, the threat has been banished back to the South Pole and we are all safe. It’s nothing to worry about, Lunabelle.”

“Every year someone tries to ruin Christmas?” That sounds like a very big deal to me. Without Christmas, there would be no Santa, no presents, no twinkling lights. There would be no need for us elves either. What would we do with our time if we weren’t busy making toys for girls and boys around the world? We’d have no joy, nothing to fill our time, no need for Christmas cookies. The thought is beyond depressing.

“Yes.” Mrs. Bellflake nods. “There’s always some bah humbug of a monster that makes an attack on the realm, trying to steal Santa’s magic. But the Keepers always protect us.”

“Wow.” I swallow down the horror of the fact. “We should thank them.” I never realized there was such a great threat against the North Pole and Santa Claus. “Can we invite them for Christmas dinner to show our gratitude?” I turn toward my mother. “Or can we invite them to the Christmas Eve dance?” We should do something for them.

“Absolutely not,” Quill practically shouts. “They’re monsters. We don’t want them near our village.”

“But they protect us,” I state, appalled that there isn’t an ounce of appreciation from him. “We should do something for them. Take them presents or make them a special feast for their holiday celebrations.” We should show them how grateful we are for their protection. If I’d known this, I would’ve been delivering batches of Christmas cookies to them every year.

“They stay on their side of the forest, Luna, and we stay on ours. Besides, there isn’t enough food in this entire village to feed those beasts.” My mother’s comment irritates me further. She seems just as ungrateful as Quill.

“Maybe there isn’t, but it’s the thought that counts.”

My mother’s getting on my nerves. I wish my father was here. Although, he tends to share my mother’s every opinion. He always tells me whatever your mother says goes . It gets annoying what little backbone he has against her. She orders him around all the time. Which is probably why he stays at the workshop making toys day in and day out. I’m guessing he’d rather bring smiles to boys’ and girls’ faces, than frowns to my mother’s.

“Let’s eat,” my mother says, dismissing my comment, which means this conversation is over. It may be over, but I’m not letting it go. They may be afraid of the giants, but I’m not. Why would they want to hurt us when they do everything to protect us? It makes no sense. This is why I plan to show the Keepers how grateful I am for their protection. I’m going to deliver all the cookies I made today. Since Quill and my mother won’t be eating any, there will be plenty for the guardians of the North Pole.

We take our seats for dinner, and as they all listen to Quill bragging about how many naughty boys and girls there are this year, I make my plan. Tonight, after my mother is asleep, I’m going to the other side of the Enchanted Forest and will deliver the cookies, thanking the Keepers for all that they do for us. For protecting us and keeping Santa Claus and us elves safe. And for keeping Christmas alive.