Page 18 of Sleigh Bells and Dragon Spells

“What,” he asked carefully, his deep voice rumbling through the quiet room, “is all this?”

Briar beamed at him, setting down her box with a theatrical flourish that sent a shower of magical sparkles into the air. “We’re transforming this place into a winter wonderland!”

“No.” The word came out flat and immediate.

“Yes,” she countered, already pulling out lengths of sparkling garland. “Your cabin is practically begging for some Christmas spirit. Listen—can’t you hear it?‘Help me, Briar,’“ she mimicked in a squeaky voice. “‘I’m so cold and lonely without decorations.’“

A muscle twitched in Falkor’s jaw, but Briar caught the hint of amusement he tried to hide. This close, she could see the golden flecks in his eyes more clearly, like embers floating in honey. “My cabin,” he said with dignity, “does not beg.”

“Well, I’m begging on its behalf.” She draped a garland experimentally across his mantelpiece, the enchanted frost catching the firelight and sending rainbow prisms dancing across the walls. “Come on, where’s your holiday spirit?”

“Dead. Buried. At peace.”

“Then we’ll resurrect it.” Briar pulled more decorations from her box, humming “Deck the Halls” under her breath. To her surprise, Falkor didn’t stop her. He returned to his book, but she noticed his eyes tracking her movements as she flitted around the room.

The cabin slowly transformed under her touch. Each decoration had been carefully chosen, not just for aesthetics but for the magic woven into it. Garlands framed the windows and doorways, their enchanted frost creating delicate patterns that complemented the natural ice outside.

Ornaments in deep reds and golds hung from the ceiling beams, each one containing a spelled light that cast warm circles onto the wooden floors. The air began to fill with the scent of cinnamon and pine from the magical potpourri she scattered in strategic locations.

“The thing about Christmas decorations,” she said as she worked, “is that each one tells a story.” She held up a hand-painted ornament depicting a snowy scene. “This one was made by one of the children at the orphanage last year. See how the snow actually falls within the picture? That was his first successful spell.”

Falkor moved closer, studying the ornament with unexpected interest. “He has talent.”

“He does.” Briar smiled softly. “Christmas at the orphanage is special. It’s when the children’s magic often first manifests—something about the joy and wonder of the season brings it out.” She hung the ornament carefully. “That’s why I love this time of year so much. It’s full of possibilities.”

She pulled out more lengths of enchanted garland that sparkled like freshly fallen snow caught in sunlight. Tiny bells woven throughout chimed softly with each movement, creating a melody that reminded Briar of winter mornings at the orphanage.

“These aren’t ordinary decorations,” she explained, holding up a strand so Falkor could see the intricate spellwork woven into each crystal. “Luna enchanted them to bring light to dark places.” She glanced at him meaningfully. “Both literally and metaphorically.”

“Subtle,” Falkor drawled, but he reached out to touch one of the crystals. The moment his finger made contact, the entire strand blazed brighter, responding to his magical essence. His eyes widened slightly.

“See?” Briar grinned. “The decorations like you.”

NINETEEN

Standing back to survey her work, Briar nodded with satisfaction. The cabin had transformed from a stark bachelor’s retreat into something magical. Crimson ribbons trimmed with gold thread wrapped around the ceiling beams, enchanted to flutter gently as if caught in a warm breeze. Delicate glass ornaments filled with magical starlight cast ever-changing patterns on the walls.

“You know,” she said, turning to find Falkor watching her with an unreadable expression, “a little color wouldn’t hurt you.”

“I prefer simplicity.” But his tone lacked its usual bite.

“Simplicity doesn’t have to mean severity.” She pulled out a string of enchanted lights that twinkled like captured stars. “Think of it as... an upgrade.”

As she worked near the fireplace, Falkor absently gestured to stoke the flames. A small burst of dragon fire shot out—more than he’d intended. Briar yelped as the edge of a nearby garland caught fire, the flames racing along its length with magical speed.

“Oh crap!” She grabbed a blanket from the couch, batting at the flames while Falkor watched with poorly concealed amusement. The scent of singed magic filled the air.

“Perhaps,” he drawled, eyes dancing with mischief, “flammable decorations near an open flame weren’t the best choice.”

She shot him a look that would have withered a lesser man. “Perhaps someone should warn a girl before breathing fire in her general direction.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

The corners of his mouth had definitely quirked up. More importantly, the usual tension in his shoulders had eased slightly. Encouraged by this tiny victory, Briar pressed on. “Right! New plan. We’re baking Christmas cookies.”

“We’re what now?”

But she already headed for his kitchen, pulling ingredients from the supplies she’d brought. The kitchen, like the rest of the cabin, spoke of minimal use—everything pristine and precisely organized. “It’ll be fun. Everyone loves cookies. Even grumpy dragons.”

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