“What can you tell us about this box?” Sin and I sat across from Stanley in the focus group room. As I’d suspected he would, Uncle Kris had turned things over to us once I’d told him about the memo box and what we’d found inside it.

Now he and Mamie sat in the observation room just like Sin and I had. Only, Mamie was taking notes.

Stanley took hold of the box like it was an old friend. “This is what tinkers use to send messages back and forth to each other on the lab floor.”

I nodded gently. “I know that. But what can you tell us about this box specifically? We found it in your work space.”

He looked at me then, eyes filled with concern for one long moment. Then he sighed and sort of collapsed in on himself as he let the box drop to the table. “I shouldn’t be surprised you were in there. I knew you would be.”

“We didn’t disturb anything. We were just looking for…”

“Proof?” He smiled, a little weakly but sincerely all the same. “I know. It’s all right. You’re just doing what you need to do.”

His gaze went back to the box. His fingers brushed the lock and tested the lid. It lifted slightly, as we hadn’t locked it. “You opened it.”

Sin glanced at me as if to say, Here it comes.

I answered Stanley. “Yes. It was empty except for the small fragment of a white feather. What can you tell us about that?”

Stanley’s mouth firmed into a thin line. “Truth is, I was wavering. On changing the rabbit to a chicken. I knew Lyla wanted the chicken, but I had done so much work on the rabbit already. It was close to being ready. And it was good. Cute. Cuddly. Magical. The kind of toy kids respond to.”

He looked at us with a confidence that surprised me a little. “I have enough years of experience to know when a toy is good. When a toy has all the right components to make it a hit.” He pointed into the air. “The rabbit had that.”

He went back to staring at the box. “But Lyla was obsessed with the chicken. The farm even sent her a stuffed chicken in the mail. I guess she’d won it as a prize when she was there. That only made her more determined in her efforts to convince me to make her a robotic one that laid eggs.”

He stopped talking like he was lost in his thoughts.

“But something happened,” Sin prodded gently. “You made the change.”

Stanley nodded. “The memo box showed up. And it was filled with the most beautiful soft, white feathers. They were snowy and fluffy and so perfect that I took the arrival of them as a sign that I was indeed supposed to turn my rabbit into Lyla’s chicken.”

Sin and I looked at each other. The coincidences were piling up around us like snowflakes in a heavy blizzard. Although this gift of feathers felt more like a blatant manipulation.

I asked the question I knew had to be on Sin’s mind too. “Who sent the feathers?”

Stanley shrugged. “I have no idea. The box didn’t come with a note.”

Sin frowned. “Kind of odd, isn’t it?”

“For tinkers?” Stanley shook his head. “Not that odd. See, we send things to each other all the time. Sharing a new tool. Encouraging with a thoughtful note. Or a favorite kind of sweet. Gifting a bit of inspiring material. That’s all I thought this was. Someone with spectacular timing. But I didn’t think it was odd. After all, I’m known for my Pocket Pets. Animal toys have kind of become my area. And I’d talked about doing something larger for a while.”

He hadn’t really explained the issue of not knowing the sender. “But to get a box of feathers without a note?”

“A couple months before the feathers, I’d gotten another box with two yards of the best fake fur you can imagine. Also no note. That fur was top quality. I’d already patterned it out for the rabbit, in fact.” He leaned back and put a hand on his stomach. “And six months before that, I got a pound of your aunt’s eggnog fudge. One of my great weaknesses.”

“All anonymous?” Sin asked.

Stanley nodded, smiling a bit. “After I won the tinker competition last year, I got quite a few boxes. Most had notes, I’ll give you that, but not all. We tinkers can be a forgetful group. Too focused on our toys. So sometimes, notes get left on workbenches. Or not written at all. It’s not a big thing.”

It felt like a big thing to me.

Stanley pushed the box away and folded his hands on the table. “I’m sorry for the mess this has caused. I wish I could help you more.”

I was a little mad at him. His attitude was great, but if he really wanted to help, why hadn’t he told us about the box and the feathers sooner? “Is there anything else you can tell us? Anything else about this whole chicken business that you think we should know? Even something you don’t think is that important?”

He shook his head slowly. “No. I should have mentioned the gift of the feathers sooner. I just didn’t think it meant anything. I’m sorry about that.” He hesitated. “There is one other thing.”

I sat up a little straighter. “Yes?”

“I want you to know that my wife and I don’t think any of this was caused by Mr. Crowe’s presence here. We don’t think he’s bad magic. At all.”

Sin bowed his head slightly. “Thank you.”

I stopped being mad at Stanley. Yeah, my bias was showing again. Frankly, my emotions were currently about as organized as Stanley’s office. This was hard.

I stood, ready for a break. “Thank you for your time, Stanley.”

He got to his feet, nodding. “Of course, Princess.”

“We’ll be in touch soon. I’m sure we’ll have more questions.”

“I’m always available. And I want this sorted out as much as you do, I promise.”

“Glad to hear that.” I glanced toward the one-way mirror and my uncle, who was somewhere behind it in the other room. Then Sin and I headed for the door.

Uncle Kris was waiting on us in the hall. For a large man, he could move with lightning speed. He wrung his hands together. “We have nothing. I have to release them both. They’ve been here for long enough already.”

I nodded. “I agree. There’s nothing to hold them on.” I wasn’t sure if that was good or bad. It felt like both. “This has been a very frustrating day. One question. How long are our badges good for?”

“For the length of your stay here in the NP. For both of you.”

“Thanks.” I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear and blew out a breath. “I wish I knew what to do next.”

“Let’s go eat,” Sin said. “Maybe the distraction will help us think of something.”

My uncle patted his stomach. “Hmm. I could eat. Let’s go to the cafeteria. Mamie, what’s on the menu today?”

Mamie answered without hesitation. “The specials today are chicken pot pie, tater tot casserole, and enchiladas. The desserts of the day are banana pudding and French silk pie.”

My stomach growled again. That all sounded so good to me.

Sin didn’t look swayed by that list of deliciousness. “That’s quite the menu, but I don’t know if I’m up for the cafeteria and all those people.”

Uncle Kris put his hand on Sin’s shoulder. “Son, I understand how you must feel. But I think it would be good to show your face. The elves that work here are good people. They’re not the ones who think you’re to blame for all this. And you’ll be with Jayne and me and Mamie. You’ll have our support.”

Mamie nodded, her steno pad clutched to her chest.

Sin’s gaze remained impassive. “If it’s not the elves here, who is it?”

“Most likely a small group of mostly snow elves. They’ve always been a stubborn, cantankerous lot.” Uncle Kris shook his head as he took his hand away. “But they’re a minority, I promise.”

Sin turned a curious expression toward me. “Snow elves?”

“I’ll explain later.” I slipped my hand in his. “I’m so sorry you feel this way, but maybe being around some more of the elves here would help you see just how great the people are. Look at the guard at the gate. Look at Stanley. Most of them are like that.”

“Was that Jim Bunting at the gate today?” my uncle asked. “He’s a good man. Jayne is right. Those are the kind of people that work here. You’ll see.”

“Okay, I’m game,” Sin said. “Let’s eat.”

After my uncle dismissed Stanley and Terrance with the rest of the day off, the four of us walked to the elevator and went down to the cafeteria. Despite Sin agreeing to go, I could see by the tension in his stance that he was prepared for the worst.

I squeezed his hand, which I was still holding, and gave him a smile. But inside I continued to hurt for him. This was not the North Pole experience I’d wanted for him, and no matter how much he insisted everything was fine, I had my doubts.

To make matters worse, we had nowhere to go with the chicken incident. I was really afraid that leaving it unsolved and continuing to call it a giant coincidence would mean terrible things in the future.

Sure, my uncle was right that the snow elves, who were most likely to be upset by this, were a small group, but they were very vocal. If they continued to think that Sin was somehow responsible for this chicken incident, their dislike of him would color everything. Including our marriage and my eventual rule. The unrest would fester over time and create a rift.

Oh, those prickly snow elves.

Our ancient history, which was built on a blend of truth and myth, said that once upon a time, the North Pole was all there had been of the world, and the elves that lived here had been divided into two groups: the snow elves and the ice elves.

Each side thought the other should join them and all become one, but which side? No decision could be reached, and a civil war had broken out. The magic used by both was so strong and so devastating that the North Pole cracked in two, and the Meltwater River was formed.

Shocked by what they’d done, the elves decided they would all be known as winter elves from that day on, and a monarch was chosen to keep peace over the new kingdom. And that’s how the first Winter King came to be crowned.

Or so the story goes.

A few who were descendants of the snow elves liked to cling to their heritage. I understood that, I really did. Being proud of who you were was a good thing. But not at the expense of someone else’s happiness and peace. There had to be a balance.

But occasionally, things tipped heavier in one direction. Then balance had to be restored.

Uncle Kris and Aunt Martha’s marriage was supposed to have done that. Aunt Martha was a snow elf, although I think most people tended to forget that. It certainly wasn’t something I thought a lot about. If ever. At least until now.

The delicious smells from the cafeteria floated over to us as we stepped off the elevator. I was starving, but for once my stomach could wait. I grabbed Uncle Kris’s hand and stopped him. “Listen, if you really think it’s a group of snow elves stirring up trouble against Sinclair, then maybe Aunt Martha should say something. Put a statement in the paper. Something.”

He nodded very thoughtfully. “That’s a good idea. You know, I sometimes forget Martha’s a snow elf.”

“We all do.”

He kissed my cheek. “We’ll get this sorted out, Jaynie. You’ll see.”

“Good.”

Sin slipped his arm around my waist. “Come on. I know you’re hungry. You can go back to fighting my battles once you’re full.”

I smiled at him without effort. “You are absolutely the right man for me.”

He grinned back, winking. “I know.”

I laughed. “Do you also know I’m getting both of today’s featured desserts?”

“If you didn’t, I’d be concerned.”

We strolled in, hand in hand, and the buzz in the cafeteria gave way to an ear-piercing silence that almost pushed me right back out the door.

Heads turned, and all eyes were upon us. Then the elves did something that brought tears to my eyes.

They stood up and applauded.