Sleigh Bells and Dragon Spells (Whispering Pines #8)

Chapter 26

TWENTY-SIX

A s the afternoon light began to fade, casting long shadows across the snow, Falkor realized that the storm hadn’t come in. What had stopped it? Was there such a thing as too much happiness?

The snowball fight had devolved into general merriment, with children making snow angels and building fortifications for future battles. His carefully maintained dignity should have been offended by such frivolity, but instead, he felt lighter than he had in centuries.

Briar stood a few feet away, helping Jadie perfect her snow angel technique. Her hair had come partially loose from its braid, creating a flame-bright contrast against the white snow. When she laughed at something the little girl said, the sound vibrated through his very bones.

“Hot chocolate refills!” Molly announced, appearing with fresh cups topped with whipped cream and magical sprinkles that created tiny fireworks as they dissolved. “Extra marshmallows for our dragon friend—I hear you have a tendency to char them.”

Falkor accepted the cup with as much dignity as he could muster, though he caught Briar hiding a smile behind her own drink. “That was one time,” he muttered.

“Three times,” Briar corrected, moving to stand beside him. Her shoulder brushed his arm, and he automatically shifted to shelter her from the strengthening wind. “But who’s counting?”

Her familiar scent—vanilla and cinnamon with an undertone of magic—wrapped around him like a warm blanket. His dragon instincts, usually so focused on maintaining distance and control, urged him to pull her closer instead.

“Mr. Falkor?” Tommy approached, fidgeting with his scarf. “Could you... could you tell us about real dragons? Since we made the snow one?”

Other children gathered around, eyes bright with curiosity. Even Briar turned to him with interest.

He should say no. Should maintain the careful distance he’d cultivated for centuries. Instead, he sat on a nearby bench, the children arranging themselves around him like eager puppies. Briar settled beside him, her thigh pressed warmth against his.

“Dragons,” he began, his voice dropping to a storyteller’s cadence, “are creatures of fire and sky. We’re born with magic in our bones and starlight in our blood.”

The children listened enthralled as he described flying through storm clouds, racing the wind, and sleeping on beds of enchanted crystals. He carefully edited out the darker aspects of his heritage, focusing instead on the magic and wonder that had filled his early years before everything changed.

“Can you show us?” Jadie asked hopefully. “Just a little dragon fire?”

He hesitated, but Briar’s hand found his, squeezing gently. Taking a deep breath, he gathered a tiny spark of his power, creating a small dragon made of golden flames that danced above his palm. The children gasped in delight as it flew in circles before dissolving into sparkles.

“That was amazing,” Briar said softly. When he looked down at her, the wonder in her eyes made his heart stop. She looked at him not with fear or suspicion, but with genuine appreciation and something deeper that made his pulse race.

The wind picked up suddenly, carrying the scent of the returning storm. The magical reprieve was ending.

“Time to head inside, everyone,” Molly hollered, already herding children toward the orphanage. “The storm’s coming back.”

As the square emptied, Falkor still sat with Briar, neither of them moving to leave. Snowflakes began to fall more heavily, catching in her hair. The growing darkness made her seem to glow, her magic a warm presence against his.

“I should get you home,” he said reluctantly.

“Probably,” she agreed, but she didn’t move either. Instead, she turned to face him fully. “Thank you for today. For sharing those stories, for playing with the children. For letting yourself enjoy it.”

“I...” He struggled to find the right words. How could he explain that she made him want things he’d thought long buried? That her presence transformed simple activities into adventures, that her smile made him forget why he’d chosen solitude for so long?

A particularly strong gust of wind made her shiver despite his warmth. Acting on instinct, he pulled her closer, wrapping both his arms and his magic around her. She came willingly, fitting against him as if she belonged there.

“Your heart’s racing,” she murmured, her hand resting over his chest.

“You do that to me,” he admitted before he could stop himself. “All of this—you make me feel things I thought I’d forgotten how to feel.”

She lifted her face to his, snowflakes melting on her cheeks. “Is that a bad thing?”

“It’s terrifying,” he said honestly. Then, softer, “But I’m not sure I want it to stop.”

The smile that bloomed across her face was like a sunrise breaking through storm clouds. She reached up, her cold fingers tracing his jaw with surprising tenderness. “Then don’t let it.”

For a moment, he almost kissed her. The urge to close that small distance, to taste her smile, was nearly overwhelming. But the storm clouds overhead rumbled ominously, reminding them of reality.

What are you doing to me?