Page 15 of Sleigh Bells and Dragon Spells

A gust of wind nearly knocked her off her feet, and she stumbled in the deep snow. The storm was definitely getting worse. Ice crystals formed on her eyelashes, and her warming spell flickered weakly. She needed to focus on the immediate problem: convincing Falkor to help them fight whatever dark force was trying to destroy Christmas in Whispering Pines.

The charm bracelet on her wrist jingled softly as she walked, each tiny charm representing a moment of joy in her life. She touched the newest one—a small silver star that had appeared the day she’d arrived in town. The magic in it pulsed warmly against her fingers, reminding her that she was exactly where she needed to be.

“One step at a time,” she reminded herself, thinking of the challenge ahead. First, she’d have to figure out how to cook something edible enough to tempt a dragon out of his self-imposed exile. Then she’d worry about why her heart skipped a beat every time those golden eyes met hers.

She laughed softly, her breath forming crystals in the frigid air. Around her, the forest creaked and groaned under its burden of ice, but her steps remained steady. She had a feeling her life in Whispering Pines was about to become much more interesting—assuming she could survive her attempt at cooking for a dragon.

The orphanage’s inside Christmas tree came into view through a window, its magic dimmer than ever but still fighting the darkness. Like the tree, she wouldn’t give up. Something told her that saving Christmas might just be the beginning of a much bigger adventure—one that involved melting a dragon’s frozen heart.

FIFTEEN

Golden eyes reflected in the frost-covered window as Falkor stood in his cabin, watching the unnatural storm ravage Whispering Pines. Ice crystallized across the glass in intricate, sinister patterns that reminded him too much of his mother’s magic—delicate spirals and sharp edges that spoke of calculated cruelty rather than winter’s natural beauty. The wind howled with an otherworldly voice, carrying screams that pressed against his mind like phantom fingers.

Briar’s face flashed in his memory—the earnest plea in her eyes when she’d come to ask for his help, the unwavering determination despite his gruff dismissal. Something stirred in his chest, an unfamiliar warmth he hadn’t experienced in centuries.

He remembered how the afternoon light had caught her dark red hair, creating a halo effect that made her look almost ethereal. The way her eyes had sparked with defiance when he’d tried to send her away. The subtle scent of vanilla and cinnamon that seemed to follow her, so perfectly suited to the holiday season she loved.

Falkor shook his head, trying to dislodge these distracting thoughts. He shouldn’t notice such things. Shouldn’t care. And yet...

“Damn it all,” he muttered, grabbing his heavy black cloak from its hook. The cloth settled around his shoulders like armor as he strode toward the door. “I can’t let her face this alone.”

His boots crunched through fresh snow as he stepped outside. The bitter wind bit at his face, carrying an unnatural chill that even his dragon-warm blood struggled to combat. Dark clouds roiled overhead, their movements too purposeful to be natural. The storm was hunting, searching, and he had a sinking feeling he knew exactly who it wanted.

The trek into town proved treacherous. Each step broke through layers of supernatural ice that seemed to reach for his boots with grasping fingers. The closer he got to the town square, the more the temperature plummeted until frost formed on his beard and eyelashes. The darkness grew thicker, more oppressive, reminding him of nights spent hiding from his mother’s rage.

What greeted him in the square stopped him cold. The once-charming buildings stood encased in thick sheets of ice, their windows dark and lifeless. Christmas decorations hung frozen and broken, their cheerful colors muted under crystalline shells. Icicles hung like daggers from every surface, their points aimed at the ground like nature’s arrows. The very air felt heavy with fear and despair, pressing down on him like a physical weight.

Through the swirling snow, he spotted Briar near the orphanage’s outside Christmas tree. Her hands glowed with magic as she fought to protect the dying evergreen, but her power flickered weakly against the overwhelming darkness.

Her face was drawn with exhaustion, yet she persisted, refusing to give up even as ice crept up the trunk, suffocating thetree’s enchantments. Her hair had come partially loose from its braid, wild strands whipping around her face in the fierce wind.

A shadow moved behind her—something more than mere darkness. It coalesced into a threatening form, reaching for her with claws of black ice. Falkor’s heart lurched in his chest, an unfamiliar panic seizing him.

“Briar!” The shout tore from his throat as his body moved before his mind could process the danger. He lunged forward, dragon fire erupting from his outstretched hands in a brilliant stream of gold and crimson. The flames struck the entity, causing it to dissipate with an otherworldly shriek that sounded disturbingly like his mother’s laugh.

Briar spun around, her eyes widening as she took in his presence. A mixture of shock and relief crossed her face, softening her tired features. In the glow of his fading flames, she looked almost luminous, snowflakes catching in her hair like tiny stars.

“What was that?” she breathed, her words forming little clouds in the frigid air. A smile curved her lips, warming something deep inside him. “My hero.”

“Don’t,” he growled, but there was no real heat in it. “I’m nobody’s hero.”

“Could have fooled me,” she quipped, then swayed slightly on her feet.

Without thinking, Falkor reached out to steady her, his hands gripping her upper arms. The contact sent a jolt through him—she was ice-cold. Instinctively, he pulled her closer, sharing his dragon’s warmth. She fit against him perfectly, her head barely reaching his shoulder, and for a moment, he forgot to breathe.

“You’re freezing,” he muttered, trying to ignore how right she felt in his arms.

“And you’re like a furnace,” she replied, not pulling away. “Convenient.”

The teasing note in her voice made his chest tighten. He stepped back abruptly, disturbed by his own reaction to her proximity. “The tree,” he said gruffly, gesturing to the dying evergreen. “What’s wrong with it?”

Briar’s expression sobered. “Its magic is fading just like the one inside. If we lose one of them...” She glanced at the orphanage, worry creasing her brow. “The children depend on its protection. It’s not just decoration—it’s hope. Safety.”

SIXTEEN

Understanding hit Falkor like a physical blow. He knew too well what it meant to be a child without protection or hope. Before he could second-guess himself, he moved to the tree’s base.

“Together then,” he said, holding out his hand.

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