I followed the Krampus down the hallway and tried to keep my face straight and clear of horror as he explained each of the rooms that led off the long hallways were production rooms – sweatshops, basically – where products were being made for next year’s Christmas – even before this one was finished.

  He opened room after room and the bleak environments tore at my soul. Lines of exhausted looking goblins slaved away painting nutcrackers or coating decorations in glitter and paint.

  Their backs were hunched from toil and their clothes looked like old, well-worn uniform aprons. The Krampus took production reports from an overseer goblin in every room. The one in the ornament-dipping room was covered head to toe in glitter, his bulbous eyes red and bloodshot from the glitter that stuck to his eyelids.

  I cringed as the goblin handed his paperwork over the Krampus with his pale, scarred hands. His skin looked irritated and raw.

  I wondered when the last time these goblins had been outside was – if they’d ever been outside. Had they been slaving away here since Jenny had created the world, or spawned into being with the patch that had come through only a few days ago?

  Whether they were new or not, things were often created with age here. Brick and Bastion had theoretically never been children, but they had memories of their childhood as though they had been. They’d been spawned as adults, but had a backstory so had been spawned with those memories and experiences intact.

  How long would these goblins memories go back? How long had they experienced these dire working conditions?

  The paleness of their skin, compared to the leathery look of regular goblins in the wider world, implied they hadn’t seen true daylight in a very long time. My eyes were drawn to the fairy-light style ribbons of magic mini fireballs in glass orbs that ran the length of the room, which provided constant but dim lighting for them to work under.

  There was no way to tell time in here. It would be enough to drive anyone mad.

  I was almost relieved when the door closed on the goblins, but room after room revealed much of the same.

  In some of the later rooms, different species were mixed in with the goblins. A feliskin with paint-matted fur was seated in a row of goblins trying to paint a Santa figurine under the watchful eye of the goblin overseer.

  In the next room I saw Grug and Jackal carrying large sacks from one end of the room to each table, emptying loads of carving wood for the workers to shape with their small knives into ornaments.

  I stepped forwards as soon as I saw Jackal, drawn by the need to touch him, to reassure myself he was actually there, but the Krampus lay a halting hand on my shoulder.

  “Your place is with me,” he said firmly.

  The Krampus’ voice caught Jackal’s attention, and he looked up, the light of recognition on his face short-lived as his eyes landed on the hand on my shoulder. Jackal strode towards us with purpose, his expression angry although he couldn’t bring himself to look up at the Krampus directly, his Intimidation ability already causing a passive effect. I felt the tension rippling between them.

  “You will not hurt Emma,” Jackal directed his demand at the Krampus’ abdomen.

  “And you will learn your place,” the Krampus growled, gripping my shoulder so tight I felt his sharp nails digging into my skin.

  The goblin overseer jogged up behind him, uncoiling his whip to lash out at Jackal, but I let out a gasp and grabbed at the Krampus, pulling on his arm to gain his attention.

  “Please! Don’t let them hurt him!”

  Again, the word please seemed to surprise and confuse him, and he held a finger up to stop the goblin in his tracks.

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  “You still care for him,” the Krampus said, scrutinizing me as though he was trying to decode me. “Even though he did not procure a gift for you.”

  “Love isn’t about gifts,” I said, frustrated at the thought of having to try and explain that relationships were more than just reciprocal exchanges to a creature that was literally coded to believe that they were.

  “Emma, I will bring this whole building down before I let him hurt you,” Jackal swore seriously. “Just say the word.”

  I knew he would do it, too. Jackal had inherited the destructive shout ability from his mermaid mother and could tear a whole building apart if he needed to. The same ability had brought down his childhood home around him and killed his adoptive parents when he had woken from a nightmare, although he’d gotten more control of it in recent months. I knew his promise for what it was, and if I was unable to escape the bonding ceremony with my beastly betrothed, I might be tempted to take him up on the offer.

  “I know,” I said, catching his eye and holding his gaze seriously. “We have time, though. Just… keep your head down and keep out of trouble.”

  He straightened his shoulders and nodded, holding himself with more confidence now that he had a plan of action. He turned and strode back to work, hoisting a sack of wood over his shoulder with as much ease as if it had been full of wool.

  The goblin overseer snarled at him, but the Krampus instructed him to leave him be, then looked at me for my reaction.

  “Thank you,” I said with genuine feeling. “I do love him. And Bastion. I don’t want them to come to any harm.”

  ‘Thank you’ seemed to have as much impact on the Krampus as ‘please’.

  The beast straightened his back and puffed his chest out, looking at me as though he had won a prize.

  “Come,” he said, pulling me back into the hallway. “I will show you your elf and then we will return to our quarters.”

  Jackal disappeared from my sight as the door slammed behind us, but now my heart was racing in anticipation to see Bastion. I knew Jackal would remain safe, so long as the goblins obeyed the Krampus, and I remained in the Krampus’ good graces. Now I just wanted to be assured that Bastion was similarly safe.

  We strode past several closed doors, which led to more sweatshops until the Krampus pulled me to a stop outside another, identical door.

  “You will see he is safe, and then you will leave with me,” the Krampus reminded me. “Your loyalty is to me now.”

  I couldn’t verbalize an agreement to that but looked instead at the rich mahogany wood door and urged my beating heart to be still. “Show him to me.”

  The Krampus obliged, shoving the door open and revealing another long room filled with rows of workers wearing workshop uniforms; red aprons over green scrubs and a green cap. My eyes danced over the faces – goblin, human, feliskin, orc, gnome and elf… there.

  A foot taller than the rest of the goblins in his row, Bastion sat surrounded by a towering pile of carved wooden ornaments with a goblin overseer pacing menacingly behind him. He’d been forced into the workshop uniform, his green cap sitting askew on the crown of his head and his apron hanging loosely off his shoulders as though he had refused to tie it.

  Bastion looked utterly miserable, his long dirty blonde hair contaminated with glue and glitter as he painted wooden reindeer. Despite his high dexterity stat, he seemed to be painting them roughly and with wonky lines, leaving black smears instead of dots for eyes – but I knew that was more out of belligerence than an actual lack of ability.

  My heart broke for him, and I wished for nothing more than to snatch him out of that seat and tear the ill-fitting clothes from his body. He was a wood elf, not a Christmas elf. A warrior, not a slave. I didn’t know how long his prickly pride would be able to endure the indignity.

  “Bast!” I gasped, pulling myself out of the Krampus’ grip.

  Bastion’s head jerked up, and he leapt over the table in one smooth jump, hopping across several others and disturbing several other labourers as he kicked piles of unfinished ornaments to the floor.

  “Emma!”

  “Remember our deal,” the Krampus’ deep voice rumbled behind me, sending a shiver down my spine.

  “Just let me talk to him for a minute,” I pleaded. “I need to be sure he is alright.”

  He didn’t answer, but neither did he interfere as I pulled Bastion into my arms.

  “You’re okay,” I said, patting him down.

  “Hardly,” Bastion snorted, pulling the goofy green cap off his head. “That grindin’ goblin spilled glue into my hair – glue! It’s going to be hell to try and get out!”

  I couldn’t help but laugh, pulling him in for a closer hug.

  “And you? Are you okay? I’ve been looking for an opportunity to look for you, but they separated Jackal and I at the beginning of the shift and we’ve had to have our lunch breaks at our work benches. It sucks here.”

  “I’ve seen him. He’s alright, just shifting bags a bit further down the hall,” I said. “And I’m alright… I think. The Krampus seems to think I’m going to bond with him after twelve days of gifts though.”

  Fury passed behind Bastions eyes, but grim determination kept it in check.

  “Then we have time.”

  “Yes,” I said. “I’ll keep trying to figure out what I can, you keep out of trouble and do the same.”

  “Time to say goodbye, Emma,” the Krampus prompted, stepping forward to separate us.

  Bastion squeezed my hands and planted a quick kiss on my temple. “Be safe, Emma.”

  “You too,” I said, feeling calm spread through me with the knowledge he was okay. With a new reserve of resilience, I followed the Krampus back to our living quarters.