Page 24 of Sleigh Bells and Dragon Spells

“Very artistic,” Briar agreed, her eyes dancing with happiness. “Though maybe a little less falling next time?”

More children joined them, showing off their skating skills or lack thereof. To Falkor’s surprise, he found himself enjoying their uninhibited joy. One little girl, Jadie, attached herself to his free hand, declaring she needed “dragon warmth” to skate properly.

“You’re good with them,” Briar observed softly as they took a break, sipping Molly’s hot chocolate while watching the children play.

“They’re...” He searched for the right words. “Uncomplicated. They haven’t learned to hide their hearts yet.”

She studied him over her cup, something soft in her expression that made his pulse quicken. “Neither have you, really. You just built walls around yours instead.”

Before he could respond to that dangerously accurate observation, Tommy called out, “Snowman contest! Everyone has to participate!”

“Oh, we’re definitely joining,” Briar declared, grabbing Falkor’s hand again. That warmth flooded through him at her touch, and he found himself following without protest.

They claimed a patch of fresh snow, and Briar immediately began outlining an ambitious plan. “If we’re making a snowman, we’re making a snow dragon,” she announced. “I hope you’re ready to use those sculptural skills, dragon man.”

TWENTY-FIVE

Falkor found himself drafted into Briar’s ambitious snow dragon project, his hands working alongside hers to shape the frozen sculpture. He tried to focus on the task, but his attention kept wandering to her—the way she bit her lip in concentration, how her cheeks flushed pink with cold and excitement, the musical sound of her laughter when their fingers brushed.

“The wings need to be bigger,” she decided, stepping back to survey their work. A smudge of snow decorated her nose, and he fought the urge to brush it away. “Dragons have impressive wingspans, right?”

“They do,” he agreed, amused by her determination to get every detail right. “Though I’m not sure snow is the best medium for aerodynamic accuracy.”

She rolled her eyes at him, but her smile held genuine warmth. “Less critique, more snow, please. Unless you want the orphanage’sbunnysculpture to beat us?”

He glanced over at the competition. Tommy and Jadie had indeed created a remarkably good snow bunny, complete with magical carrots for the nose and ears. “We can’t have that,” hesaid solemnly, though his lips twitched. “A dragon’s pride is at stake.”

Working together, they shaped massive snow wings, Falkor using a touch of his magic to help the delicate structures hold. Briar added intricate scale patterns, her small fingers creating surprisingly detailed textures in the snow. When she stumbled slightly, pressing against his side to regain her balance, he instinctively steadied her. The contact sent warmth spreading through him despite the cold air.

“Sorry,” she murmured, but she didn’t move away immediately. He found he didn’t want her to.

What are you doing to me, little witch?The thought came unbidden as he watched her return to her work, humming a Christmas carol under her breath. These unfamiliar feelings unsettled him—the way his magic reached for hers, how his body seemed to gravitate toward her presence, the strange ache in his chest when she smiled.

“Mr. Falkor!” Jadie’s voice broke through his reverie. “Can you make the eyes glow like yours do?”

He blinked, surprised by the request. “I’m not sure?—”

“Please?” The little girl’s hopeful expression reminded him painfully of Evangelina when they were young before everything went wrong.

“Here,” Briar said softly, her hand finding his. “We can do it together.”

Their magic merged effortlessly, her warmth tempering his fire into something gentle enough for this purpose. The snow dragon’s eyes began to glow with a soft golden light, drawing gasps of delight from the gathered children.

“It’s beautiful,” Tommy breathed, forgetting his own sculpture in his excitement.

“All art deserves appreciation,” Briar declared diplomatically. “Your bunny is excellent too. Very... hoppy-looking.”

The boy beamed at her praise, and Falkor felt something inside him soften at her kindness. She never missed an opportunity to lift others and spread joy wherever she went. It was so different from his own tendency toward isolation, yet somehow her light made him want to step out of his shadows.

“Hot tea for the artists,” Ivy called out, appearing with a tray of steaming cups. “And fresh-baked scones to fuel your creativity.”

As they took a break to warm up, Briar pressed close to Falkor’s side, ostensibly seeking warmth. He found his arm wrapping around her shoulders without conscious thought, his dragon magic creating a pocket of heat around them both.

“Thank you,” she said quietly.

“For what?”

“For this. For trying new things. For making the children so happy.” She looked up at him. “For letting me see this side of you.”

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