elsa ring

“I do,” Mab said. “Yet . . .” She frowned, as if concentrating to make sure she repeated the phrase correctly. “It does not do for the boss to spend too much time in the office.” She paused for a breath and then said, “I have brought your gift.”
I think my jaw bounced off my knee before it landed in the pile of parts. “What?”
“You are participating in the holiday this year,” Mab said. “I have an obligation to my vassals.”
“What?” I repeated.
She took one hand out from behind her back and presented me with a small gift bag of wintry blue, covered with cheerful silver snowflakes.
I eyed the bag. “Is it going to explode? Or try to eat me?”
“Do not be tiresome,” Mab sighed.
“Faeries don’t give gifts,” I said. “What kind of trick is this?”
“The kind that isn’t,” she replied. “I am not giving you a gift. I am fulfilling to you an obligation.”
I felt a smile touch the corner of my mouth. “Obligation, eh? Suppose I don’t accept?”
A pained expression touched her eyes for about a tenth of a second. “That would be your choice. As would be the consequences.”
“Well. That’s the first time I’ve ever been threatened into accepting a Christmas present,” I said.
I took the bag. Inside was a jewelry box. Inside the jewelry box was a plain band that probably wouldn’t have fit on my pinky. It was made from some kind of silvery, opalescent metal. I brushed a fingertip over it. It hummed with stored energy.
“Potent,” I said. “What does it do?”
“It is meant for your daughter,” Mab said. “And it will give her powers.”
I snapped the box shut and eyed Mab. “Excuse me?”
She made an impatient sound. “Not like that, wizard,” she said. “If you give her the ring, she will . . . have a certain amount of influence, until next stroke of noon, over the forces of Winter.” She sighed. “And it will play music.”
I narrowed my eyes. “What music?”
Mab leaned over, opened the box, and obligingly touched the ring. It immediately buzzed and the room filled with a swirl of music, as a woman’s voice sang, “The snow glows white on the mountain tonight . . .”
I shut the box on the sound and eyed her. It was just possible that I’d already heard that song enough to make my teeth itch.
“Now I understand,” I said drily.
“You are welcome,” she replied.
“Just out of curiosity,” I said, “is it going to be possible for her to freeze someone’s heart and turn them into an ice statue?”
Mab looked baffled. “Those are the powers in the motion picture. Should I have cheated her?”
I rubbed at the spot between my eyes. “Got it. We’ll go someplace nice and quiet to play with this gift.”
“Make sure she knows who gave it to her,” Mab said.
Then the fire guttered again. When it returned to life, it was golden and merry, the way fire is supposed to be—and Mab was gone.

Battle Ground, Christmas Eve, Page 410-412