I perch on an armchair in front of the mahogany desk that takes up most of the room – tapping my foot against the hardwood floor. Friedrich sits in the armchair beside me, draped over it as though he owns the place. Which he does not.

As soon as the ice dome fell like snow around us, revealing us flustered in the center of a hectic crowd, St. Nicholas commanded his guards to escort us to his office. His flushed, bearded face was unreadable. And now we wait for the King of Christmas himself; we wait to see whose side of Krampus's story of poisoned wine he will believe.

I need him to believe us, and not only because I don't want to be sent back to the Yule Castle. But because I need the address of my mother.

I need to get home.

I start to pace in front of the roaring fire in the hearth – stopping to peer into the symbolic red and green stockings that hang from the mantel. I pinch a sprig of pine from the evergreen in the corner by the frosted window and rub it between my fingers. Then I begin to flick through the envelopes stacked on the desk.

"You know, some may consider it rude to rummage through another man's mail," says Friedrich.

"Well if we're about to get imprisoned, or sent back to Krampus to be tortured, then being polite to the man who abandoned me is really the least of my worries, Friedrich."

"Do you really think he's just going to have left the address of your mother out in an envelope on his desk?"

I glare at him. His leg is hanging over the arm of the chair, and his suit jacket is draped over the back. There's a silver letter opener in his hand, and he's picking his nails with it.

"No. . .I just. . ."

A smile broadens on his face. "You do, don't you?"

"It doesn't hurt to look."

"Do you ever think things through?" He seems genuinely curious.

"Do you ever shut your mouth?" I turn my attention back to the letters.

"You didn't seem to have a problem with my mouth when you were kissing me."

"Yes, well, that was an embarrassing lapse in judgement that we will not speak of again."

"If you say so." I can hear the smirk on his stupid face. "You seemed to like it, though, Joy. Why deprive yourself of such pleasure?"

"Perhaps I liked it because it stopped you from talking for a couple of minutes."

"You can stop me talking now, if you like."

"Evidently, I cannot."

I dare myself to look at him and instantly regret it. Amusement glints like shards of ice in his eyes. He holds my gaze for a moment, then goes back to fiddling with the letter opener.

Footsteps sound in the corridor and I hurry back to my seat. Friedrich pockets the small blade and swings his legs to the ground to resume a more formal sitting position.

Moments later, St. Nicholas is shuffling around the other side of the desk with two steaming mugs in his hands. He sighs as he drops into his seat, then pushes the drinks over.

"Don't worry, it's not poison, lass," he says with a chuckle. "Cocoa." He turns to Friedrich. "Would you give us a moment?"

Friedrich looks highly affronted, but he inclines his head and stiffly rises–carrying his mug out into the corridor. The door clicks shut, and the only sound left is the crackle of fire, and my heartbeat drumming in my ears.

I have searched for family my whole life. And now I have found my biologic father. What's more, he can lead me to the rest. Yet I do not know what to say. My words are gone. My brain is a blizzard of nonsensical thoughts. My mouth is dry.

Tentatively, I sip the thick chocolatey liquid. When I place the mug down, St. Nicholas is watching me intently. His elbows are on the table and hands are clasped together beneath his chin.

I wipe the cream from my lips.

"You're not arresting us, then?" I say.

He chuckles.

"Of course not. Krampus has been looking for ways to break the Accords for years. I don't trust him as far as I can throw him. Which is about as far as you can, lass. That was pretty impressive. He said you're a mortal, but you're not. Are you?"

I shake my head slowly. I take a deep breath, tightening my grip on the handle of the mug. This is the moment. This is when I tell him.

"I. . . You're. . . I mean –"

I internally curse myself for not being able to say it.

"I know who you are, Joy," he says gently. "I knew you looked familiar the moment you walked up to that table. She named you Joy for me, you know. It was my sister's name."

After the shock, and relief, that floods through me, something hardens. "You abandoned us."

"It was the biggest regret of my life." He pauses to scratch his beard. "Did you know that the doorway that connects our world to the mortal world is only open for twenty-four hours a year?"

I shake my head. Krampus never divulged such things.

"Aye. From midnight on Christmas Eve to midnight Christmas Day. I met your mother one Christmas Eve at a party. I visited her the following year. And then the year after that, when I came to see her again, she had a beautiful little bundle of joy. You."

He smiles, his blue eyes misting with the memory.

"When I saw you, I wanted to stay. I wanted to abandon my kingdom. But she told me you weren't mine." He shakes his head. "I came back here at the stroke of Midnight on Christmas Day. I regretted it as soon as the portal had closed, I regretted not telling her I didn't care if you were mine or not, I'd have loved you both all the same. But I couldn't get back. The following Christmas I returned. Only she was with someone else then. I presumed he was the biologic father." He shrugs his heavy shoulders. "You all looked so happy that I never visited again after that."

He exhales. "When I saw you in that hall, though, I knew. I knew you were my daughter, Joy. Your mother must have told me you weren't mine so I wouldn't give up my kingdom for her. For you."

I don't know what to say and he smiles. "But you're here now, and that's what's important. I'll do right by you, Joy. You'll live here in the castle, you'll want for nothing. Christmas finally has its princess back. What do you say?"

I think of it. I think about living here with my father. People wouldn't hate me here. There would be no threat of torture or imprisonment. There would be no arranged marriage.

There would be no Friedrich.

Unless perhaps I wanted to see him. . .which would be completely insane. But, maybe. . .

I force myself to think more productive thoughts.

I'd be a princess. One day I could be queen.

It sounds good.

But. . .

I exhale as I push mug across the table. "That's not what I want."

"Then tell me what you do want. If it's in my power, I'll grant it to you. I owe you that."

"I want the address of my mother," I say. "I want to go home."

***

It is almost midnight when we sit in St. Nicholas's sleigh as it is pulled by reindeers through the moonlit snow. I have changed into breeches, a loose fitting shirt, and a fitted red coat that Nick gave me. Friedrich is wearing his formal grey suit with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows despite the chill in the air.

When we get to an arched rock in the middle of the wilderness, St. Nicholas pulls the reins and the sleigh skids to a halt.

"Wait for it," he says. Suddenly a bright, shimmering blue light omits from the center of the archway. It reminds me of the aurora borealis.

"The doorway's open?" I ask.

St. Nicholas nods. "You have your address?"

I raise the envelope that I've been gripping tightly the whole journey.

"Good lass. Think of the address as you walk through the arch. It'll take you right to the door."

My heart beats fast as our eyes meet. How do you say goodbye to the father that you only just met?

"I, um, thank you."

He nods. "Do you remember how to write to me?"

"Address a letter to you and throw it into a fire in December."

"That's it. So, you'll stay in touch?" When I nod, he grins and gives me a friendly nudge. "Go on then."

I glance at Friedrich, then I jump out into the snow. I walk over to the doorway. It's dazzling with lights and I can feel the power radiating from it.

There's a crunch in the snow behind me.

"So, it seems I'm finally to be rid of you, then?" says Friedrich.

I turn around. His hands are in his pockets and his eyes fix on my face. His face is impassive, but there is tension in his lips.

"It seems so," I say.

He looks into the portal and his nose turns up as though he smells something bad. "Are you sure you want to go back there, Joy? The mortal world is terribly tedious."

"It's my home, Friedrich."

He shrugs, but I think I catch a flicker of disappointment on his face. "Well, don't say I didn't warn you."

I shuffle from one foot to another, the snow crunching beneath my feet. "Friedrich. . . why don't you come with me?"

His eyes flick to mine and they almost imperceptibly widen. A smile slowly spreads across his face.

"I only mean because you can't go home, can you? Not with what happened with Krampus."

He sighs then looks down at his boots. "Alas, Joy, as much as I know you crave my company, I have an adventure of my own to embark upon."

"You do?"

"Yes. Nick has some intel on my mother." He gives me an uncharacteristically soft smile. "I'm going to go and find her."

I put my hands in my coat pockets. "Oh. Well, that's great, Friedrich. Good luck."

He inclines his head. "Yes. And you."

"Well. . ." I bite my bottom lip. "Goodbye, Friedrich."

"Goodbye, Joy."

I stare into the portal. Fingers trembling, I look at the address in my hand. I close my eyes for a moment and push away the feeling of regret and sadness that seems to be washing over me. Why do I feel this way? This is all I've ever wanted.

I glance once more over my shoulder. St. Nicholas waves from the sleigh. Friedrich gives me an encouraging nod.

I take a deep breath.

Then I step into the portal.

I'm going home.