Achilles mustered up some Yuletide joy in the days leading up to Christmas. He even helped me rummage through the spare room where he had the box of decorations stored. That part gave him some sadness. While looking, he told me about his wife and son and how they had died of fever in 1755. Most of their possessions were packed away in that room. I tried not to go through much, wanting to respect his privacy. Achilles went through the majority of the boxes, often pulling out an old dress or toy and staring at them for a few moments before returning them and moving on.

"I can do this myself," I told him for the third time.

"It's alright. Sometimes memories can be a good thing."

He pushed a box toward me after inspecting its contents. I looked inside. It was piled full of garland, red bows, and wreaths. I picked out a dried vine tied with a ribbon and held it up.

"Mistletoe."

Achilles chuckled. "There's much of that in there. Abigail used to hang it everywhere this time of the year."

"That's sweet," I said, smiling. "She sounds like an amazing woman."

"She was," he admitted with a sad, proud tone in his voice.

Achilles composed himself and stood up. "That reminds me," he said. "I have something for you. When you've finished in here, come see me in the kitchen."

I nodded and began to tidy up the boxes. I wondered what Achilles would give me. I sort of hoped it was money for the work I had so far. I know I hadn't done much, but I needed to pay Lance for the cane. That would be easier to do if I actually had money. I would have to have Connor help me count it, but at least I wouldn't feel like I owed anyone anything. I refused to be a charity case.

I carried the box to the downstairs hallway and met Achilles in the kitchen. He handed me a book, thin and leather bound. I studied it and flipped through the pages. It was a collection of recipes, all handwritten.

"It belonged to my wife," he said. "Feel free to play loose with the recipes. They never turned out quite right when Abigail made them. Cooking was never her forte. You seem to have a talent for it, though."

I felt a wave of emotion at the compliment. I hugged him and he let out an embarrassed, "Oh."

"Thank you, Achilles."

"You're welcome," he said, easing out of my embrace. "Now, finish with what you were doing and clean up the mess you made in my study."

I had the idea of organizing the books and papers Achilles had stored while moving the furniture to make more room for the tree. So far, I had made a bigger mess than I had started with. The surfaces were cluttered and there were stacks of documents piled on the floor.

I smiled at him and nodded before leaving the room.

I was just starting dinner when I heard the front door. I went into the hallways as Connor entered the house. He had just came back from hunting and was looking around with bewildered confusion. I had finished all the decorating. The tree was trimmed, and garland hung along the banister. Wreaths were on both of the doors, inside and out. Bows hung in all the windows I could reach. Mistletoe was in all the doorways, as well as in the middle of the hall at the front door. I might have gone a little overboard, but I was only using what Abigail had left behind. I felt it right to put it all up in her absence.

"What do you think?" I asked, gesturing to the decor. "It's pretty festive, huh?"

Connor looked at me with a discernible expression. It hadn't been what I was expecting. "It is...nice," he said.

His lack of enthusiasm disappointed me. I had hoped he would take a bit more of an interest when he noticed the amount of work I had put into making the place look Christmasy.

"I guess it doesn't really mean much to you, does it?"

He shook his head apologetically. "But I doubt any of my people's rituals would mean much to you."

"Probably not," I agreed.

I happened to glance up and noticed that Connor was standing directly beneath the mistletoe. Since he wasn't familiar with the custom, I felt he deserved some insight. "You might not want to stand there."

Connor frowned at me. I gestured to the vine above his head, and he looked up. "What is that?"

"Mistletoe," I told him. "It's a holiday tradition that anyone who stands beneath it is required to receive a kiss."

Connor looked at me, as though trying to determine the truth of the custom. "I do not understand," he said. "What is the purpose of such a tradition?"

I laughed and shook my head at his ignorance. I wasn't really clear on the origin of the practice myself. I could have just made something up to appease him, but I didn't see the point. "It doesn't matter," I told him. "Just take at least one step in any direction so I don't have to kiss you."

His cheeks became red, and he hastily stepped back, moving from beneath the mistletoe. "Sorry," he muttered, looking at the ground.

"That's the only warning I'm giving you," I said. "Be careful where you stand from now on."

Connor met my eyes, and I noted a flicker of defiance in his. It made me wonder if he would test me just to see if I was bluffing. I remembered how Achilles complained about his rebelliousness sometimes, but I had never witnessed it firsthand. Other than the few silent sneers he cast at his mentor, Connor followed orders like a well-trained dog. Until that moment, I had never considered that he might be one to push boundaries for no other reason than to see if they would move. That look he gave me, though. It made me doubt everything I thought I knew about him.

"Of course," he said.

Connor walked by me, eyeing me with that same challenging stare. He pulled the candlestick that revealed the entrance to the basement and went downstairs, shutting the door behind him.

I went back to the kitchen and to finish supper, wondering about what secrets he had hidden.