Page 23 of Sleigh Bells and Dragon Spells

“Oh, yes,” Falkor said, glancing out the window, “I’ve done some research, going through old tomes and dragon-spell books. I haven’t found anything specific to this situation. But I’ll keep looking.”

“Thank you, Falkor. That’s all we can ask for,” Reed said as he scooted his chair out and stood. “Everyone should get home before it hits full force again.”

As they all prepared to leave, Briar noticed how the couples naturally gravitated toward each other—Fia tucking herself into Sayer’s side, Tabitha letting Bram wrap his coat around her shoulders, Sera and Lark’s hands finding each other without looking.

“Let me take you home,” Falkor said quietly as they stepped outside. His hand still hadn’t left hers.

“My shop isn’t far?—”

“Please.” The word held more meaning than its single syllable suggested.

Briar looked up at him, at the way the gathering storm made his golden eyes seem to glow. “Okay,” she said softly.

As they walked through the darkening streets, Briar nestled closer to his warmth. The storm might be returning, but something else was growing stronger too—something that felt remarkably like faith, and maybe even love.

And when Falkor pulled her just a little closer, his magic wrapping protectively around them both, Briar smiled. Sometimes the greatest lights were born in the darkest storms.

TWENTY-FOUR

The snow crunched beneath their feet as Falkor walked Briar through the town square. Unbelievably, the dark clouds that had been rolling in had stopped as if they’d hit an invisible wall in the sky. What could possibly be holding the storm in check?

Falkor grabbed Briar’s hand, telling himself it was for practical reasons—the cobblestones were treacherous with ice—but he couldn’t explain away the warmth that spread through his chest every time she squeezed his fingers or smiled up at him.

Laughter and excited shouts drew his attention to the town center where a large section had been transformed into an impromptu ice skating rink. Children from the orphanage darted across the ice, their joy evident in their red cheeks and bright eyes. Magical lanterns floated overhead, casting warm golden light onto the scene.

“Oh!” Briar’s eyes lit up, reminding him of sunrise touching crystal. “We should join them!”

Falkor stiffened. “I don’t like skating.”

“Have you ever tried?” She turned to face him, snowflakes catching in her dark red hair like stars. The sight did something strange to his chest, making it tight and warm simultaneously.

“No, but?—”

“Then how do you know you won’t enjoy it?” Her smile held a challenge that stirred both his pride and something deeper, more primal. “Come on, dragon. Where’s your sense of adventure?”

“I flew off a cliff as a child,” he reminded her dryly. “I think that counts as adventure.”

She laughed, the sound making his magic stir beneath his skin. “This is a different kind of adventure.” She looked up at him through snowflake-dusted lashes, and he felt his resolve crumbling like ice in spring.

“Fine,” he growled, but he couldn’t quite hide his smile when she bounced excitedly.

Molly appeared with skates for them both, her knowing smile making Falkor suspicious. “Hot chocolate and cookies for all participants,” she announced cheerfully. “Ivy’s providing tea and scones, too, for the more sophisticated palate.”

“There’s nothing sophisticated about how much you love those scones,” Briar teased, sitting on a nearby bench to lace up her skates.

Falkor watched her fingers move deftly with the laces, finding himself fascinated by the simple grace of her movements. When she stood, wobbling slightly, he steadied her without thinking. His hands settled on her waist, and the contact sent a jolt through him even through layers of winter clothing.

“Ready?” she asked softly, looking up at him with those warm brown eyes that seemed to see right through his carefully constructed walls.

“No,” he admitted, but he followed her onto the ice anyway.

His first steps were uncertain, his natural grace compromised by the unfamiliar surface. But then Briar took both his hands, skating backward with surprising skill to guide him.

“Trust me,” she said, and the strange thing was—he did.

A small figure whizzed past them, and Falkor recognized Tommy from the orphanage. The boy had been shy around him before, but now he called out, “Mr. Falkor! Watch this!” before attempting a spin that ended with him sprawled dramatically on the ice, giggling.

“Excellent form,” Falkor said seriously, making the boy beam.

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