Lacey slowly made her way to the workshop, careful not to tread where other footsteps had already gone. An icy crust had formed after yesterday’s sun, which the afternoon heat was softening into a treacherous glaze. Peter had gone on his village rounds and wanted to check in on the reindeer too. Having had breakfast so late, they’d made do with a quick lunch after which Mathilda had left to the Healing Hall. At home by herself, Lacey had figured she might as well go be useful and make a few toys.

  Coming round the workshop, she heard whistling huffs and chuffs, mixed with a honk here and there. She paused, Peter’s warning about the geese’s unreasonable hostilities ringing in her ears. She sidled up to the very wall of the workshop, cautiously treading forward in the shaded softer snow, and gingerly peered around the corner.

  Cynthie stood on the workshop steps, sprinkling red and brown crumbs out onto the snow, with a bevy of swans competing to catch and grab it. Aware of the pattern now, Lacey counted them to confirm. Seven, of course.

  She sighed. Cynthie’s remark she’d overheard previously on the Ice Dove trail, basically dismissing her as a love-addled teenager, still stung. Enough so that she didn’t want to cross paths with her. She briefly wondered if she could slip into the workshop through the lunchroom’s kitchen door. But that would be letting Cynthie steer her day, and she wasn’t about to allow that. Lacey took a deep breath, then straightened to walk around the corner with what she hoped resembled dignity.

  It could’ve worked, except – distracted by Cynthie’s presence – Lacey momentarily forgot about the slippery ground. One moment she was taking a graceful step, the next she felt her foot skid out from under her. Unable to stop, she dove into the bevy of swans with a small scream, landing outstretched on her face in the snow.

  Honking chaos erupted around her, followed by a light patter of feed falling onto her back, as Cynthie’s last throw landed. A webbed foot planted itself on her head, shoving her face deeper into the cold snow.

  The pressure vanished as the swan pushed off, the air popping with the clap of its wings.

  ‘Hey, ow,’ she said belatedly, and lifted her head. Cynthie stood frozen mid-throw, eyes wide, the last few crumbs still suspended in her palm.

  Great. Next time I’m taking the kitchen door, Lacey silently thought to herself.

  Cynthie snapped her mouth closed and sprang into motion.

  ‘Oh my, Lacey! Are you okay? You have to be careful with the ice!’ She knelt to help Lacey crawl up into a sitting position.

  ‘I’m all right, don’t worry,’ Lacey said, patting her head to pull her hat back in place. Cynthie held out an arm. Silently groaning, Lacey let go of the last vestiges of her dignity and grabbed onto it to get up with skidding feet. She could feel swan eyes burning into her back, as they formed a wary half-circle around the two elves, drawn by the last scatter of feed on the snow.

  ‘Do swans hold grudges?’ she asked Cynthie, thinking of the geese.

  ‘I’m not sure,’ the other elf said. ‘But in my experience you can smooth over just about anything with a handful of cranberries.’

  ‘Good to know.’ Firmly on her feet now, Lacey dusted the snow off her clothes. ‘Well, uh, thank you for helping me.’

  ‘Anytime,’ Cynthie said, awkwardly staring into the sky.

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  ‘I’ll go inside now. You know, make some toys.’

  ‘Okay.’

  Lacey shuffled up the steps as fast as she could.

  ??

  Face still smarting from the cold snow she had plunged it into, Lacey pulled off her hat in the workshop vestibule. Turning it around, she studied the back, half expecting to see a webbed footprint from where the swan had stepped on her head. But, it was clean, with not a mark to be seen.

  Inside, the workshop was unusually quiet. Looking out over it, only about every second or third bench sported an elf. Lacey supposed it was because it was Blessday, which she equated with a spiritual day of rest back on Earth.

  Albyrne sat in his corner, slumping as he stared at a closed can of green paint. Unpainted four-leaf clovers were laid out in neat rows in front of him, and an unused paintbrush hung listlessly in his hand.

  It was a scene that would’ve tugged on any compassionate heart. Lacey hesitated, unsure how he would feel about her, since it was she and Peter that had outed him. But he just looked so sad, so she hesitantly walked over and carefully sat down by the dejected leprechaun.

  ‘Hey, Albyrne,’ she said, lightly patting him on the back. ‘How are you doing?’

  He looked up, tears brimming in his eyes. ‘Horrible lass. Just horrible. I’m so ashamed – what was I thinking?’

  Not saying anything, Lacey leaned forward and simply listened as the grief poured out of him.

  ‘I took the five golden rings. And you know what I said to myself? I said, “I’m just borrowing it.” I said, “I’ll bring it back once my pot is full.” And, then what happened?’

  Lacey shook her head – she didn’t know.

  He took a deep breath, looking her in the eye. ‘It was just never full enough,’ he whispered, dramatically. ‘I raised the gold up to the bottom of the top rim. And then I thought I could fill it up a bit more. And then, when it was flush with the top, I thought we could still pile a little on top. And then, when I did that, I thought it might look nice with a tiny scattering of coins beneath it. I could’ve returned the rings months ago! I could’ve not taken it, and that little space where it fit would’ve been filled inside a fortnight.’

  He shook his head, wiping the tears from his eyes with his sleeve.

  ‘That’s what you get for being greedy. But, I’m a leprechaun – what was I supposed to do?’ He gave a dry sob. ‘Now, I have nothing. Not a single gold coin in all of existence.’

  Lacey winced with empathy. ‘Oh, that sounds hard. Did Santa take it all?’

  Albyrne sadly nodded, unable to speak. He took a deep, shaky breath.

  ‘Yes, lass. Every last quarter ducat.’

  For a while, Lacey just sat silently with him in his grief.

  Finally, she said, ‘I suppose you can try to earn it back?’

  He gave another sad nod. ‘Santa has always been fair. Much fairer than he should. He gave me a pot of coal, and after every day of good work I’m allowed to exchange one piece of coal for a single gold coin.’

  ‘So you’re going to see him every day?’ she asked.

  Albyrne fell forward onto his desk, his shoulders shaking anew with grief.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ Lacey said, regretting her question as she rubbed his back. ‘I shouldn’t have asked.’

  He shook his head through the tears. ‘I’m… I’m… He put me on the honour system!’ he wailed. ‘After what I did, he’s trusting me! What kind of man does that? Only the best, I tell you. Only the very best. That’s why he’s Santa and I’m just an old leprechaun.’

  They were both silent, considering Santa’s punishment, while Albyrne’s sobs gradually subsided.

  After a time, he said, ‘Well, I’ll tell you one thing. I’m glad Peter caught me. You don’t know how many times I heard that teeny voice in the back of my mind telling me to return the rings. I should’ve listened.’ Giving Lacey a wan smile, he continued, ‘I’m 321 years old now. And still I wasn’t old enough to listen to my better instincts. When do you reckon we’re ever old enough to be wise?’

  Lacey considered, feeling very small beside the centuries accumulated in his small frame. ‘I honestly don’t know. Compared to you, I’m a barely hatched chicken. I suppose we just do the best we can and grow a bit every day.’

  Albyrne nodded. Then he reached for the can of paint. ‘Well, I’d better get a’painting. Last night was one of the worst nights of my life, and to top it all off, I spent it without a single coin of gold in me pot. By gum, tonight I’ll have at least one.’

  There was a new gleam in his eye, a renewed spark of determination.

  Lacey smiled. ‘Yes. You go earn that golden coin back,’ she said.

  Watching him straighten with purpose, Lacey felt her own spirits lift. If he can do it, so could she. She was going to get back to work, and by the Saints, by tonight she would have found at least one more clue. She would not abandon Jinxy.

  ??????

  What do you think of Santa’s judgement here?

  Was the punishment fair? Too gentle? Surprisingly wise?

  I’d love to hear your thoughts. ??