Why Castle Wreaths Hang High — Behind the north tower, where the snow smelled like cold stone and pine sap, Sereia tucked a wreath under her arm and made herself a private dare: she would hang it higher than the tallest guard could reach. Read the full story →
Behind the north tower, where the snow smelled like cold stone and pine sap, Sereia tucked a wreath under her arm and made herself a private dare: she would hang it higher than the tallest guard could reach. Not for applause. Not for the queen. Just to see if joy could climb. The wreath’s berries clicked softly as she crossed the courtyard, and its ribbon brushed her wrist like a secret saying, go on.
At the great arch, the hook waited far above the door, small as a star. Sereia stood on tiptoe. The wreath slipped. Its hidden bells rang—ting, ting, TING!—and every tower window bloomed with candlelight. “Who woke Christmas?” called the sleepy porter. Sereia laughed so hard the sound bounced off the stones, and everyone came running, carrying garlands, lanterns, and armfuls of green.
So the wreath was lifted high together, where no one could miss it, and the joy that had tried to stay secret spilled through the whole castle. Ever since, castle wreaths hang high over doors, ringing a little welcome before anyone steps inside; next time you spot one above an arch, see if you can guess whose laugh it is still holding.
