by Zoe Chant
He gave Dara a mischievous grin. “Of course, as a child I mainly wanted to run outside and join in. Winter was always my favorite part of the year.”
“Mine too,” Dara sighed. “But in the city it just turns to gray slush. When I was young, I promised myself that I’d move somewhere where you could build snowmen in your garden. Of course, it never worked out…”
“You can build a lot of snowmen here,” Henrik murmured and reached out to take her hand. “There’s enough space for an entire army of them to fight off spring.”
Together, they put their plates into the dishwasher, and then set out exploring once more. Henrik was eager to show off his home, and Dara loved watching him point out attractions and explain all the history and thoughts behind what she saw. And there was so much to see! It was overwhelming, like a fairy tale come to life.
Despite her first impression, this was nothing like a theme park. Everything about Henrik’s home was real. The wall and the two towers were built from real stone. There was a steep staircase that led upwards from the third floor, and you could climb all the way up to the top of the towers and look out from the parapets.
“For dragons, of course, it’s more than just a beautiful view,” Henrik explained. “We can land or take off from here. And do you see that lake over there?”
Dara nodded as she followed Henrik’s pointing finger. Not too far from the snow castle, a lake of ice was glistening in the pale light of the moon.
“Now imagine children and their parents skating on that. There were stands selling popcorn and ice cream and candy apples, and of course we had a stand renting skates. And a farmer from the village in the valley organized sleigh rides. He’d take them around the entire castle and back.”
Dara leaned her head against Henrik’s shoulder. In the moonlight, everything that spread out below them seemed frozen in time, coldly beautiful and untouched by the years that had passed. Still, the part of her that had always found such satisfaction in smoothly running office work was already running mental calculations, trying to work out how best to organize a place like Henrik’s snow castle.
Next, Henrik took her back downstairs. The ground level held the guest rooms Henrik had mentioned, and the kitchen she had already explored. Past the dining room, which was large enough for a big family and their guests, they came into the living room.
Dara released a breath of relief. She’d half feared that every place in this castle would be as overwhelming as the ballroom they’d seen earlier—but the living room was cozy. Like the kitchen and the dining area, it was much larger than what she was used to, but it was clearly the home of a family, and not a stuffy museum room meant to show off the owner’s wealth.
There were couches and recliners and even a large TV. Most importantly, there were what looked like family portraits on the wall—and drawings clearly done by a child.
Dara giggled softly as she wandered over to inspect them.
“Did you draw these?” She nodded at a crayon drawing of the castle. There was a smiling sun in the corner of the sky, what had to be either a dragon or a flying horse above the castle, and little stick figures throwing snowballs at each other.
Henrik coughed softly. “I’m still not much of an artist,” he admitted. “But yes. I must have been four or five. It was a constant source of embarrassment to me that my mother kept these on the walls.”
“I think it’s adorable,” Dara said softly and leaned against him. “My mom did the same. She was always working so hard, and there was never really much time—but she kept all my drawings pinned to the fridge.”
“I bet you were a better artist than me,” Henrik said teasingly. He nodded at the next picture. This one showed a group of dragons. “Here. I’m the small one.”
“The ice dragon,” Dara whispered and smiled. The drawing wasn’t very skillful, but for all that Henrik claimed that he wasn’t much of an artist, she’d recognized him immediately.
“My mom helped me glue glitter to it. To make them look real.” Henrik laughed. “I think my hands and face and this entire room glittered for a week after that. But it came out well. I’m the silver glitter. My dad’s the light blue and my mom’s the violet. When they went flying together, it looked a bit like sunset racing across the sky.”
“And the black dragon?”
“That’s my uncle, Alistair. He doesn’t live here—too depressing” Henrik sighed. “And he was never much of a countryside sort of person anyway. He loves big cities. You know what they say about dragons and their hoard? We obsess a lot about our jewels, but he prefers the jewels of the modern age. He can talk your ear off about taxes and hostile takeovers and the Dow Jones and whatnot. To tell the truth, it bores me to tears.”
Dara laughed softly and nudged his shoulder. “Everyone should care about taxes, even a dragon,” she said and grinned at him. “I’m starting to believe that the gate let me in because the castle was in desperate need of a bookkeeper…”
Henrik gave her a sudden, surprised laugh. “In that case, the castle has impeccable taste when it comes to bookkeepers!”
“We have sharp eyes. You can’t slip anything past us,” Dara declared, poking his chest teasingly with her finger. “And I’m curious. Your castle looks like it came straight out of a fairy tale! I’m very impressed. But… something is missing. Something very, very important!”
Henrik frowned. “Actually, for the first time in twenty years, I feel like nothing is missing…”
“Very flattering,” Dara acceded with a nod, biting her lip to keep from laughing. “But this is really a very grave oversight. I might have to inform the authorities. How can this be the snow castle of Christmas Valley—and yet you don’t even have your Christmas decorations up?”
Henrik stared at her for a moment, speechless, then snorted with helpless laughter. “You scared me! For a second I really thought you were threatening to set the IRS on me!”
Now Dara was giggling too. “No, I mean it,” she said, lightly boxing his arm. “Come on, what gives? If you dragons like sparkly things, where’s your Christmas tree?”
Henrik straightened slowly. “Still out in the hallway. I was going to put it up in here and decorate, but… why bother? If it was just me, all alone in here, why even pretend that…”
“But what if it’s not just you?” Dara asked, giving him a loving look. How strange to imagine that all these years, Henrik had lived in this incredible place—but in the end, he’d been just as lonely as she had been. “Come on. I’ll help you put it up. It’ll be fun!”
And it was fun. In fact, it was more fun than Dara’d had in a very long time.
Henrik had put on some Christmas carols and dragged huge boxes of Christmas decorations from the attic. Dara had clapped her hands in glee the first time she opened a box. She felt like a little child on Christmas morning all over again. Henrik’s family owned enough Christmas ornaments to decorate ten trees—or an entire castle.
And the ornaments were like nothing she’d ever seen before. The baubles sparkled and shone in the light. There were red balls and blue balls, bells in silver and gold, tiny figurines of spun glass, and wooden figures that looked hand-carved and painted. There was angel hair in all the colors of the rainbow, and enough lights to illuminate an entire forest.
“How about you choose a color scheme for this year, and I go and deal with… this?” Henrik gave her a rueful look from the tangle of cables that surrounded him. “Every time I tell myself I’ll be more careful when putting the lights away, and yet when winter arrives and I open the boxes, it’s turned into… this.”
Dara could barely hold back her laughter when she saw him wrangle a giant knot, loops of cables already encircling his body. “Careful, or we might just end up having to decorate you as our tree instead!”
Leaving Henrik to his task, she lifted another ornament from a box. This one was glass as well, carefully spun into the form of a small bird. Its translucent wings sparkled in the light. When she held it
up, the pale colors of the glass intensified, its breast gleaming red, its feathers changing between blue and green and yellow.
“These are beautiful,” she said with admiration, and then carefully slipped the small loop of string over a branch of the tree.
The box held six birds, each as beautiful as the first, and all in slightly different colors. She put them all onto the tree while Henrik was still struggling with his tangled lights. Pleased, she watched the little birds sparkle.
“I know!” she then declared as she suddenly had a vision of the finished tree. “Where did you put the silver baubles?”
“Over there,” Henrik said, pointing to a box with hands illuminated by the gleaming fairy lights.
With new energy, Dara set to work.
“I came up with a perfect color scheme,” she declared, biting back a small smile as she sneaked glances at Henrik and his struggle. “Let’s see if you can guess the source of my inspiration when I’m done!”
“Knock yourself out,” Henrik called back, grimacing when he pulled on the lights and a new tangle formed immediately. “It hasn’t seen much use in years—and this is what it was meant for. It’ll be good to see it all out around the house again!”
Happily, Dara hummed along to the carols as she went through box after box, setting several of them aside. Silver baubles, gold baubles, gleaming crystal and translucent blues—soon she’d amassed an entire pile of boxes, and then she truly set to work.
Henrik had meanwhile untangled enough of the lights to decorate the tree with them. It was a large tree; Henrik had been forced to bring in a ladder so that they could decorate the highest branches as well. It filled the room with the comforting scent of fir needles while the fire crackled in the fireplace.
Dara breathed in deeply. They’d never had a real tree at home; it was too much work and too expensive, and there hadn’t been any space anyway. But now as she worked side by side with Henrik, the room filled by the scent of the forest and the warmth of the fire, she felt perfectly content. More than that: she felt at home.
She’d always dreamed of the perfect Christmas. And by all accounts, this was perfect: the cozy room, the giant tree, the hundreds of boxes of decorations at her disposal.
But that wasn’t actually what filled her with such quiet happiness.
She turned her head to watch Henrik begin to put up a string of lights by the fireplace. He wasn’t even looking at her—he was completely focused on his work. There was a small smile on his face, and he was softly humming along to the carols as well, his voice comforting and deep.
This was what made it all feel right. She didn’t feel like an outsider in a stranger’s place. They were working together, side by side, and it was as if with every move she made, every bauble she hung from the tree, the connection between them deepened.
And it wasn’t just the irresistible attraction she’d felt since she’d first seen Henrik. This went much deeper than the sex—even though that had been great.
When was the last time she’d felt such an instant understanding with someone?
“Do you need help with the sapphire ones?” Henrik asked from the fireplace.
Dara instinctively shook her head, then froze as his words registered. Doubtfully, she looked at the bauble in her hand. It was blue, studded with little bits of colored glass that broke the light, gleaming and sparkling whenever she turned it.
“What did you call these?” she asked, frowning a little as she ran the pad of her thumb along the sparkly glass.
“Those are sapphire—my grandmother’s favorites,” Henrik said, coming up to stand behind her. “I think they came from the hoard of a suitor of hers, a French duke. She rejected him in the end, but he had remarkably good taste.”
Dara made a non-committal sound, her knees suddenly weak. “You mean sapphire as in—the blue gems?”
Henrik nodded and took the bauble from her, holding it up to turn it critically, as though he was looking for flaws. “Nineteenth century. Really very beautiful. My grandmother would have been so pleased to see you choose these.”
“Oh,” Dara breathed, her eyes going to the large stash of boxes at her feet. With trembling hands, she picked up one of the gold baubles.
They’d felt strangely heavy when she hung them, but she’d thought the reason was that these were old—probably made from glass instead of plastic.
But she hadn’t thought—
“Now these are firmly twentieth century,” Henrik said promptly. “My dad’s favorite. He was quite old-fashioned in his ways—at least for a dragon. These are twenty-two karat gold. He always used to say that’s all a dragon needs to be happy.”
“Oh,” Dara said tonelessly, her eyes wide as she stared at the gleaming bauble in her hand.
If this was real gold, and the other baubles she’d hung were real, actual sapphires—then these were probably worth more than she’d earned in her life.
And if she’d dropped one of them…
“Are you sure we should use these?” she asked, willing her hand not to tremble as she held the fragile decoration. “If we drop any of them…”
“Hey, don’t worry.” Henrik’s arms came around her. He pressed a kiss to her cheek. “These are meant to go on a tree. What’s the use of hiding them away in boxes for centuries? They’re part of my hoard, and we dragons can get very smug about our treasures. We want to look at our hoard and admire it.”
“So you’re having a dragon’s Christmas tree, decorated with real jewels,” Dara said, still feeling weak as she looked at all the decorations she’d already hung up.
“Mmm.” Henrik nuzzled gently at her neck. “This is what my hoard is meant for. Please, go on. I love watching you decorate.”
“But if you’re so possessive of your jewels,” Dara said slowly, “doesn’t it bother you to see me touch them?”
“On the contrary.” Henrik’s voice hoarse, his breath hot against her skin. “I want to see you decorated with my treasure. My gold on your skin. And my ruby reindeer put on our tree by your hands.”
“Oh,” Dara breathed again, but this time, it wasn’t a sound of shock. Dara was beginning to understand.
She didn’t know much about dragons… but she knew what that breathlessness in his voice meant; that delicious, low rumble when he spoke.
With slow, deliberate movements, she reached out for one of the small reindeer. Rubies, Henrik had said—and Dara no longer doubted it. They flashed and glittered in the light of the fire as though the stones were alive. No, this wasn’t colored glass—even Dara could see that.
She hung the reindeer from a branch, close to one of the fairy lights that made it shimmer and shine.
“It’s beautiful,” Dara murmured, leaning back contentedly when Henrik’s arms came around her once more.
“It’s the most beautiful tree I’ve ever seen.” Henrik pressed a kiss to the tip of her ear. “This is the first time in twenty years I’m excited for Christmas.”
With a pleased smile, Dara watched the tree sparkle. With the illumination of the small lights Henrik had wound around the tree, it had truly come to life. The baubles she had picked and hung from its branches gleamed in hues of silver, gold, crystal and blue: the colors of the magnificent ice dragon that had come to save her from the storm. It was beautiful—just as beautiful as the sight of the powerful dragon had been, its wings spanning the sky, mastering even the fierce storm that would have killed her.
Dara smiled to herself as she felt Henrik’s arms tighten around her. It really was the most beautiful tree she’d ever seen. But not because a dragon’s hoard worth millions of dollars was hanging from its branches.
With a sigh, she turned in Henrik’s embrace and allowed herself to be kissed.
They could have hung paper ornaments from the tree, and it would have been just as beautiful. This tree was theirs, and that was really the only thing that mattered.
Chapter Four: Henrik
The next morning, snow was falling gent
ly while the sun was shining down onto all the white outside the kitchen window. Henrik was making coffee when a familiar sensation rose up inside him—a cross between warning and greeting. This was the age-old instinct that let him know another dragon was in his territory.
The sensation did not alarm him. There was only one dragon who’d dare to enter his lands, and it was high time for his uncle to drop by for a visit. He usually came to check up on Henrik before Christmas, even though he’d never stayed for long. Not that Henrik begrudged him that: Alistair Drakeson loved big cities with all their bustle and excitement, and Henrik was well aware that his quiet, remote Christmas evenings here in the family castle couldn’t compare to the Tokyo clubs and LA bars his uncle loved to frequent.
Still, Alistair would surely stay for a day or two, and it would be good to catch up with him. Especially now that Dara was around…
Sudden worry sprung up inside Henrik as he watched a dark spot in the distance slowly grow in size. Soon, he could make out the silhouette of a large, black dragon making his way towards the castle.
What would Alistair say to Dara? Would he be pleased that Henrik had finally found his mate?
His uncle had always tried to talk him into leaving his self-imposed exile behind—but the more his uncle tried to make him believe that none of what had happened was Henrik’s fault, the worse the pain got.
After all, Henrik knew perfectly well that it had been his fault. If it hadn’t been for Henrik, his parents would still be alive.
That was the terrible truth, and nothing his uncle said could change that.
Still, perhaps it was possible to find some happiness after all.
Fate had led Dara here. Fate had sent his mate to him. Maybe this was a sign that Henrik had been forgiven?