By Zoe Chant
Her smile widened a little. “Dara Jenkins, nice to meet you,” she murmured. Then, slowly, she began to frown, as though her memories were catching up with her.
“The snow castle... it was all real then? The castle... the storm...” Suddenly she gasped, her eyes widening. “The dragon! You are... you are the dragon?”
For a moment, Henrik was taken aback. He hadn’t expected that.
She wasn’t a shifter herself—he would have been able to sense that. To ordinary people he was either invisible in his dragon form, or else they immediately forgot what they’d seen. It was an old defense mechanism, designed to keep dragons from harm.
But... Dara had seen him. And she had remembered him.
For one heartbeat, their eyes met. Henrik felt lost, as though he was falling into his mate’s eyes. Was this what it was like to meet his match? Someone who’d simply know him?
“Are you... a shifter?” Dara struggled to sit up. “It’s okay—my best friend is married to a shifter. But he’s—you know. A dog. Golden retriever. Likes to roll around on the floor and play fetch with the children. He didn’t tell me there were dragons!”
Henrik laughed softly. She had taken him by surprise—but it was a relief that she knew. He wasn’t quite sure how he’d expected this conversation to go, but definitely not like this.
“It’s a bit of a secret,” he said. “Even among shifters. I can’t believe someone told you that shifters exist at all, though; we’re all very secretive!”
Dara’s lips twitched. “I take it you’ve never met a golden retriever. They’re sweet, good-natured dogs. I’d trust them with my own children in a heartbeat. But never trust them with a secret.”
Henrik laughed again. “Well, I’ll remember that. Thanks for the advice!”
“You’re welcome.” Dara gave him an amused smile, then pushed away the covers—or at least tried to.
Hastily, Henrik reached out to steady her. “Not so fast! You almost froze to death in that storm. Please, stay in bed a while. Let’s take it slowly. I’ll go and fetch you some hot chocolate, how does that sound?”
“Or... a coffee?” Dara said pleadingly.
Henrik inclined his head, trying to hide his smile and not quite succeeding. “Whatever you desire.”
When he returned with a steaming mug, Dara was still in bed, though she had propped herself up against the pillows. She looked more awake now, and no longer quite as exhausted.
“A gingerbread latte,” Henrik said proudly as he handed over the concoction.
“Very seasonal!” Dara grinned at him, her cheeks flushing when their hands brushed for a moment.
If she knew about shifters—did she also know about mates?
Maybe it’s not the first thing I should spring on her. It’s probably bad manners to spring it on someone who can’t even stand yet.
Let’s show our mate our land first, the dragon within him whispered with all its possessive pride.
“Thanks,” Henrik said, a little belatedly. “These things are all the rage right now, or so I’ve been told. The people in the valley slip these things into my deliveries. I have gingerbread and pumpkin spice syrup. And an iPhone. And a CD from someone called, um... Taylor Swift? I think it’s their way of trying to get me to stay connected with the world.”
Dara sipped her coffee as she studied him. “You don’t get out much? Is it because the snow makes it impossible to drive? No, of course not—you’re a dragon, you can fly,” she corrected herself.
“The storm is my doing. Sorry.” Henrik grimaced. “It’s designed to keep intruders away. We dragons have a certain connection to the land we’ve claimed as ours. So whenever someone comes close, the snow and wind starts up, and people turn around and leave. The people from the village just leave my deliveries at the gate. I don’t get any visitors—well, my uncle visits sometimes, but then he’s a shifter too, and the land recognizes him as family.”
“Wow,” Dara breathed, her eyes gleaming at him. “I’m sorry, but this is so much better than getting drooled on by a dog shifter. You people got all the cool stuff, huh?”
A surprised laugh escaped Henrik. “I’m glad you think so! Most people would be scared, I think.”
“Well, if you wanted to eat me, you could have already done that.” Again, Dara blushed when their eyes met. “And I’m not scared of you. You saved me. And your dragon was beautiful! I’ve never seen anything like it!”
The dragon inside Henrik was preening at the praise, already filled with a possessive pride, now that they had found their mate.
“You haven’t seen anything yet,” Henrik promised. Exhilaration spread through him.
He’d been alone for twenty long years. No visitors. No tourists.
But all of a sudden, he couldn’t wait to show his mate his home and watch her fill it with her life.
An hour later, after she’d eaten some soup he’d heated and a sandwich he had prepared, Dara declared herself fully recovered and ready to get out of bed. Now, wrapped in her warm parka once more, she was staring with wide eyes as they walked together through the corridors of his home.
“It’s not an actual, real castle,” Henrik explained as they walked. “My great-great-grandparents settled here long ago. We always had a large family home—it’s a dragon thing, we’re very proud and protective of what is ours. But it wasn’t a castle—just your average dragon clan mansion.”
“Average mansion,” Dara said in a strangled voice as she looked down a large, winding staircase that led down to the first floor. The walls were decorated with paintings and old tapestries. Henrik had switched on the light, and all the chandeliers were glittering and gleaming. The sound of their steps echoed through the hallway as they walked.
Henrik looked sheepish. “For a dragon this is actually quite modest,” he said. “Anyway, it was my dad’s idea to transform it into what you see now. He added the castle part you see when you enter through the gate. It’s really just two towers, and then a stone front to make it seem like it’s a real castle. Because that was his idea, you see: people down in the valley were struggling to make a living up here. And we dragons always take good care of our land, and those who live on it. So instead of logging and hunting and mining, the valley transformed into Christmas Valley, and our home into Snow Castle. You should have seen it—it was magical. Every winter when I was a child, there were hundreds of families coming here for a holiday. I had snowball fights with the children in the courtyard. We built snowmen. We spent hours playing in the snow castle—the actual snow castle! Everyone who came here was happy. And the valley thrived.”
“And now... now everything is empty.” Dara stopped, looking at the large room they had reached.
It had once been a ballroom. Dimly, Henrik could still hear the laughter as people twirled through the room to the sound of music, the tinkling of glasses and the cheers.
Now, dust was dancing in the air as he drew back a curtain. The balcony outside was covered in snow. Inside, the furniture was covered beneath sheets. Dara’s voice echoed eerily through the vast space.
His chest ached all of a sudden. It was empty. Too empty. This place should have been filled with life and laughter.
How could we let it come so far? his dragon whispered. We should take better care of what is ours... this is a jewel to show off, not something to hide.
Henrik swallowed. He’d had his reasons. At the time, he hadn’t seen any other way than to hide here with his pain. The solitude was the price he’d paid for what had happened.
But now that Dara had whirled into his life, all curious and bright-eyed as she explored, he could feel doubt well up in him.
Perhaps this place shouldn’t be locked away. Perhaps he did not need the loneliness. Why else would fate have sent his mate to him here?
“My parents died twenty years ago. It was... an accident.” Henrik swallowed heavily. “At the time, closing everything down seemed like the best idea.”
“I’m sorry,” Dara said quietly. Her hand touched his arm. “That must have been very hard for you. And this place must hold so many memories...”
For a moment, Dara was silent.
“I left home on a whim, you know,” she then continued. “My mom married again and moved to Europe. My best friend married and moved far away. And I was left behind in a place that suddenly no longer felt like a home. So I left, and decided to look for—I don’t even know. A childish dream. A real Christmas holiday, with snow and happy people and... kindness, I guess. I wanted to find a place where people cared about each other.”
“You’ve come to the right place,” Henrik said softly.
He couldn’t look away from Dara. The way she was looking at him stirred something inside his chest that he had thought long lost.
Did she feel this too? Would she be scared if he moved too fast? He didn’t want to scare her—but her words had woken the soul of his dragon, and his dragon wanted to claim her.
“Come, you can see the snow castle from here,” Henrik finally said, his voice a little rough.
He led Dara out onto the balcony. Long ago, it would have been decorated with tiny lights. People used to stand here with a glass in their hand and their arms around a loved one as they looked out on the castle’s grounds stretching out below them.
Now everything was silent. Instead of lights, icicles glistened in the slowly fading light of the evening sun.
Dara gasped as they stopped by the railing. This side of the castle faced away from the road that had once allowed visitors to travel here from the gate.
“See, I told you that in reality, it isn’t much of a castle,” Henrik said and nodded at the two large wings that surrounded the courtyard they looked down upon. “That’s mainly what remains from the original mansion. My father had those buildings enlarged when he came up with the idea of Snow Castle. There are some guest rooms, but mainly it was a venue for weddings and celebrations, and we’d had a restaurant down there, and—”
“There!” Dara interrupted, nearly bouncing on her feet as she pointed forward. “Oh, it really is a real snow castle!”
“Told you that this isn’t the real one.” There was all the pride of his dragon in Henrik’s voice as he stepped closer to Dara. “It hasn’t been maintained properly, of course—but that over there is the real snow castle. Two stories high, and all snow. There are rooms inside, and slides, and it isn’t cold in there at all. The children would play in there for hours. We’d have real battles with snowballs and pretend that this was a fort we were attacking.”
“And over there?” Dara asked. “Is that a maze?”
Henrik nodded. A small shiver ran through him as he looked at the entrance to the snow maze. He’d been avoiding it as much as the outside world...
“It was more popular with the adults. It’s much larger than it looks from here. You probably don’t want to explore it, it hasn’t been properly maintained in ages and you could quite possibly get lost for real.”
Dara shivered and wrapped her arms around herself. “No thanks. I think I’ve had enough of that for the day. Or the year.”
Gently, Henrik wrapped his arm around her. “Are you cold? Should we go back inside?” he murmured.
Dara turned in his arms. Her eyes were gleaming as she looked at him, her cheeks red from the cold. “I’m not feeling cold right now...”
Entranced, Henrik watched as snow began falling once more. A large snowflake landed on Dara’s nose, and with a small smile he reached out to brush it away with the pad of his thumb.
At the touch, another small jolt ran through him. Despite the heavy winter clothes, he could feel the heat of Dara’s body against him. Her lips were red, and as he watched, they parted slightly as she released a small sigh.
Daringly, he trailed his finger along her cheek, brushing away the snowflakes that kept falling. Against his fingers, her skin was hot and soft. She smelled a little like the gingerbread spices of the coffee.
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