Sleigh Bells and Dragon Spells (Whispering Pines #8)

Chapter 41

FORTY-ONE

M orning light filtered through frost-dusted windows, painting golden patterns across Briar’s bedroom. She blinked awake slowly, savoring the warmth of the quilts and the familiar scent from the garlands decorating their home. Beside her, Falkor slept peacefully, his usually stern features softened in repose.

The sight of him wearing the red flannel Christmas pajamas she’d insisted on buying—complete with tiny dragons in Santa hats—made her heart skip. Even in sleep, he managed to look dignified, though his dark hair stood adorably mussed against the pillow.

“I can hear you thinking,” he mumbled, one golden eye cracking open.

“I’m thinking you look cute in those pajamas.”

He groaned, pulling her closer. “If anyone at the station finds out about this...”

“Oh, don’t worry.” She kissed his nose. “Celeste made Kade wear reindeer ones, and I heard Bram’s have little bears with jingle bells.”

“That doesn’t make it better.” But his lips twitched with suppressed amusement.

They exchanged gifts by the fireplace where enchanted flames danced in shades of blue and gold—a trick Falkor had perfected to please her. Briar’s hands trembled slightly as she handed him her carefully wrapped package.

“I made it myself,” she explained as he unwrapped the leather-bound journal. Dragons and vines twined across its cover in intricate patterns, and the parchment inside carried subtle enchantments to preserve the words written upon it.

Falkor traced the designs with reverent fingers. “It’s beautiful,” he murmured. “Like holding centuries of stories waiting to be told.”

“That’s the idea.” She tucked a strand of red hair behind her ear. “I thought you might like somewhere to write down your memories, or maybe create new ones.”

His eyes softened in that way that still made her breath catch. “Thank you.”

“Oh! Wait—one more.” She produced a smaller package with a mischievous grin.

Falkor unwrapped it and burst out laughing at the coffee mug emblazoned with “Dragon by Day, Snuggler by Night.”

“You’re impossible,” he declared, pulling her into his arms.

“You love it.”

“I love you .” His expression turned serious as he set the mug aside. “Which brings me to my gift.”

Briar’s heart stuttered as he reached into his pocket and withdrew a small velvet box. He slid from the couch to one knee before her, and suddenly breathing became a conscious effort.

“Briar Rhee,” he began, his voice rich with emotion, “you barged into my life—quite literally—and turned everything I thought I knew upside down. You showed me that love isn’t weakness, that joy doesn’t have to be earned, that home isn’t a place but a feeling.” He opened the box to reveal an antique emerald ring that caught the firelight like captured stars. “Would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

Tears spilled down her cheeks as she nodded emphatically. “Yes! Yes, of course, yes!”

The ring slipped perfectly onto her finger as if it had been waiting for her all along. “It belonged to my grandmother,” Falkor explained softly. “The only person in my family who understood that love could be a source of strength.”

“It’s perfect.” She threw her arms around his neck, and he lifted her easily, spinning them both as dragon-fire sparks danced through the air in celebration.

“I love the ring,” Briar said, admiring how the emerald caught the firelight. “But you do realize this doesn’t count as a Christmas gift, right?”

Falkor’s golden eyes widened. “I propose marriage and you’re telling me I still need to give you a present?”

“That’s exactly what I’m telling you.” She grinned, poking his chest. “The proposal is its own category. Christmas gifts are sacred.”

His laugh rumbled deep in his chest. “In that case...” He retrieved an envelope from beneath the tree. “Perhaps this will suffice?”

Briar opened it to find two tickets for the Polar Express, a magical train that rode through the winter realms on Christmas night. Her squeal of delight made him wince dramatically.

“A real Christmas train ride? With hot chocolate and caroling and—” She gasped. “Do we get to wear pajamas on the train too?”

“Don’t push your luck,” he growled, but his eyes sparkled. “Though I suppose one more set won’t kill me.”