Chapter Five: Dara

“I’m sorry,” Alistair Drakeson said, giving Dara an understanding smile. “He usually doesn’t run off like that. I don’t know what got into him.”

Dara forced herself to smile back, despite the worry that had welled up inside her heart. She was settled in a chair by the fire in the large living room, with Henrik’s uncle in the chair next to her. In a corner of the room, the giant Christmas tree sparkled, decorated with what she now knew were actual rubies, sapphires and diamonds—but the sight no longer gave her joy.

Henrik was out there in the snow somewhere, and he hadn’t even told her he was leaving. She hadn’t ever felt so unsettled before.

In her job, Dara had always been a confident woman who made sure that the work got done. She’d known her worth, and she’d been proud, because she knew that without her there, the office would fall apart.

But when she came home in the evenings, that confidence fell away quickly as she’d watched friends settle down, while there never seemed to be someone just right for her. Someone who’d stay.

Henrik had felt right. From the first moment, she’d felt right at home in this large, empty castle.

Perhaps she should have been scared by the ghosts of the past, the bygone glory of this castle that hadn’t seen happy families in far too many years—but what Dara had seen instead was a challenge. Her mind, which was so good at finding problems and solving them, had been itching to help. She couldn’t stop thinking about how to turn these deserted hallways and empty rooms into a smoothly running operation all over again, with popcorn stalls and a skating rink and excited children dragging their parents out here every winter.

But maybe she’d been too confident. Henrik had called her his mate—but what did she know of dragons? And what did she know of families who were so rich that they could afford to hang actual sapphires and rubies from their Christmas tree?

Again her eyes slid over to the illuminated tree. It was beautiful. It sparkled in hues of silver, gold and blue, as amazing as the sight of the ice dragon who had rescued her.

And just as alien.

This isn’t my world. One of those baubles is worth more than I’ve earned in my entire life. I don’t belong here, and surely he knows that too.

“Don’t worry about him.” Henrik’s uncle interrupted her thoughts. “He’ll be fine. The snow doesn’t harm him.”

Dara bit her lip, forcing herself to smile again. “I’m not worried. He was probably tired of being cooped up in here. I assume a dragon must want to stretch its wings every day—not that I know what that would feel like…”

“That’s right,” Alistair said with a patronizing smile. “Humans can’t really understand. But you already knew about shifters, didn’t you?”

She’d mentioned her friend during lunch, hoping to break the ice that way. Now she wondered whether that had broken some sort of shifter etiquette…

“Dog shifters,” she replied, thinking with sudden yearning of her best friend Miranda. Right now she could have really used her advice. Had it been as scary for Miranda to be faced with a family of shifters?

“And you knew about mates.”

Was she imagining it, or was Alistair’s tone growing more condescending?

“I did,” she said cautiously, not quite certain where this was leading.

Where was Henrik? This was starting to feel more and more like an interrogation…

“I assume this seems all quite fantastical to you,” Alistair said, gesturing at the large room with its rich tapestries and chandelier, the glistening Christmas tree and the velvet curtains. “Dragons, a castle—and of course the dragon’s fabled treasure. Quite fortunate, isn’t it, to get lost in a storm and come out of it the mate of a rich dragon shifter…”

“I was fortunate to come out of it alive,” Dara said quietly, giving the window another longing look. But the sky was gray; there was no approaching ice dragon to be seen to rescue her this time.

“Of course, of course.” Alistair’s fingers idly tapped a rhythm on the armrest of his chair. Then, suddenly, striking as quickly as a snake, he leaned forward to fix her with his fearsome dragon eyes. They looked black, like a sudden chasm looming before her, a darkness threatening to swallow her whole…

“I’m sure he looked like an easy target to you,” Alistair hissed. “But don’t believe I don’t know what you’re doing. You’re taking advantage of his loneliness. You have no idea of the pain he carries around with him. Mates? You’re the first person he’s seen in twenty years, except for me! He wouldn’t know his mate if she bit him! All you needed was a kind word to wind him around your little finger. How long have you been here, a day? Two? I can smell him on you. Mates… don’t make me laugh.”

Dara’s mind was reeling. She couldn’t believe what she heard. No one had ever dared to talk to her like this before. At the cruel insinuations, her eyes filled with tears—but even so, she held her ground, staring furiously back into those fearsome dragon eyes.

“You know nothing about me,” she said, choking down her tears. “I don’t care about his money—do you think this was some sort of con? That I got lost here on purpose? I’d feel the same for Henrik if he were a normal human—no dragon, no fortune! I care about him! I—”

“Ah,” Alistair said with a thin smile, “if that were true, you wouldn’t have made him get out the family jewels your first evening here.” Alistair nodded at the Christmas tree where the sapphires gleamed ominously in the light of the fire. “Your plan’s working well. I haven’t seen those out in ages. We’re dragons—we’d kill before we’d let a stranger touch the most precious pieces of our hoard. What a strange coincidence that you made him bring out his most valuable possessions the very hour you met…”

Wordlessly, Dara shook her head, dread filling her. Was this what Henrik thought of her?

But no, he’d been so pleased that she’d chosen his grandmother’s favorite decorations…

“I never,” she began, dizzy with humiliation at the path this talk had taken. “He knows I love—”

“No,” Alistair said calmly. “No, you don’t. I know that because I love him. He’s my family. I’ve known him since he was a baby. I care for him, do you understand that? I won’t allow you to hurt him. He’s had enough pain, and if you cared for him at all, you’d see that too. If you truly loved him, you wouldn’t be here, overwhelming him with your presence every hour of the day until he can’t think straight anymore. If you loved him, you would have taken it slowly, like a normal person does. You’d have stayed in a hotel, going out for dinner or a walk instead of moving straight into the family castle. If you cared for his pain—”

“Enough!” Dara gasped. She’d jumped up from her chair, trembling from the cruelty of those words. Her heart was aching in her chest, as though someone had stabbed her. “I don’t have to listen to this!”

“No, you don’t.” Alistair leaned back in his chair, giving her a cold look. “But if you care about him at all, maybe you’ll think about what I’ve said.”

Dara didn’t bother with a reply. She didn’t think she’d be able to bring out words anymore. Pain had clenched around her throat until she felt she was choking on humiliation and grief.

She ran back through the endless hallways and corridors, knowing that she was fleeing, but unable to spend one more minute in a room with Henrik’s uncle.

Where was Henrik? Why had he abandoned her like this—so suddenly, without a single word?

Did Henrik too believe that all she wanted was his money?

“Where are you?” she whispered, curling up on his bed with her head on the pillow that still smelled like him. “Why did you leave me with him?”

 

***

 

When Dara opened her eyes again, it was noticeably darker outside. With a yawn, she stretched—then froze when suddenly, everything came back.

She’d had a terrible talk with Henrik’s uncle, and Henrik had left without a word to her. Was he still outside in the snow? Even if his dragon didn’t feel the cold, what if something had happened to him?

“Morning.”

A shadow to her right shifted, then Henrik stepped forward into the light. “Or rather, evening. It’s starting to get dark already.”

The words Dara had been about to say stuck in her throat when she got a first good look at Henrik.

He looked terrible.

He was pale, and there were shadows under his eyes. He looked as if he hadn’t slept in a week. His eyes, which had always shone like crystals of ice in the sun, were shuttered and empty.

Had she done this to him? Had he left to think, worrying that he’d been too hasty when he’d declared her his mate?

Did he already regret inviting her into his life?

Silently, she pulled the sheet around himself, shivering when she recalled the sensation of his hands gliding over her skin. It had felt so perfect. No one had ever touched her as he had, as though she was a precious treasure…

And now he looked so exhausted that something inside her ached at the thought that she’d done this to him. She’d made him worry.

“You came back,” she said softly. Suddenly she felt cold, even though she still had the blanket wrapped around her.

She wanted his touch instead. She wanted those strong arms to hold her tightly until she forgot everything that had happened.

But Henrik didn’t join her in the bed. Instead, he lingered there in the half-shadow, where she couldn’t quite make out the expression on his face.

“I’m sorry if I worried you,” he said. “I went out to fly, and I forgot the time. I haven’t done that in ages… it’s so easy to forget the strength of my dragon.”

Dara nodded slowly, still feeling unsettled. Something about him seemed so distant all of a sudden. Before, she’d always been able to read all of his thoughts on his face. Now, there was nothing but the play of shadows and his calm, collected voice.

That, and the emptiness of the bed without him in it.

“I’ve been thinking,” he continued slowly. “I saw your car still parked by the gate, and I remembered that you had planned to stay in Christmas Valley. I should have offered to drive you there as soon as the storm ended… I never really asked—”

“No,” Dara interrupted, her heart suddenly feeling empty and aching. “No, that wasn’t your fault. You’ve done nothing wrong.”

Did he believe the same things his uncle had said? That it was suspicious how she’d just appeared here and forced herself into his life?

But she didn’t care about his money. She cared about Henrik. She would have wanted him just as much if she’d stayed in a hotel in Christmas Valley and he’d been a hot ski instructor instead of a powerful dragon shifter.

All of a sudden, she felt desperately alone here in his bed, despite the fact that his scent clung to her skin and he was close enough to reach out to.

But hadn’t that been how this entire muddle had started? By reaching out for him instead of taking things slowly?

“I can drive you down into the town if you’d like,” he finally offered, speaking slowly as if it pained him.

Dara swallowed heavily, then forced herself to straighten and smile at him. This wasn’t the first pain she’d lived through. And she was a woman, damn it, not a lovesick teenager. She could handle this like the adult she was. Which meant trying to fix this by doing the right thing, instead of crying into Henrik’s pillow.

“No need, I can drive down myself. I found the way to the gate just fine, remember?”

Did he look relieved at her answer? The sight hurt, even though she knew that she was doing the right thing.

“It’s probably best not to rush things,” he said, still standing there just out of reach by the side of the bed. “You’ll like Christmas Valley. You should explore a little.”

Dara nodded, although she felt like her heart was breaking. How was it possible that the thought of leaving him was so much worse than her best friend moving away, even though she’d only known Henrik for two days?

But perhaps that was all the more reason to try and take things more slowly. It was no wonder his uncle had such a bad impression of her.

“We could have lunch together,” she said, clenching her fingers around the blanket to hide their trembling. If he brushed her off now…

“I’d like that,” he said, shifting a little as though he wasn’t quite sure what to say or do now. Then, after a moment, he drew something out of his pocket.

Instinctively, Dara took hold of it when he held it out. It was heavy—a chain of some sort…

“Oh,” she breathed, her eyes widening when the fading light of the evening sun fell onto it. For a moment, the chain shimmered. It was a necklace made of gold. Real gold—not the cheap jewelry she’d bought for herself. This was heavy, and after her experience decorating the tree together with Henrik, she didn’t doubt for a second that this was the real thing.

The gold felt strangely warm in her hand. A small gem was dangling from it, reflecting the light in a hundred facets of sparkling silver, gold, rose or blue depending on how she shifted it.

Her mouth went dry. Was this a real diamond? It was small, but stunningly beautiful—tasteful enough that it could be worn combined with her simple black wool dress as well as a wedding dress…

The thought hit her like a cold shower. Wasn’t this exactly what Henrik’s uncle had feared? Here she was, accepting gifts worth more than she earned in a year, thinking about weddings! And that after she’d just decided to act like an adult and try to fix this!

She couldn’t accept this. It was too much, far too much.

“I want you to have this,” Henrik began, his voice a little hoarse.

Dara couldn’t let him finish. Once more she saw herself the way his uncle saw her—the gold-digger, the new arrival eager to get her hands on the family’s treasure.

“Thank you,” she said determinedly, “but I can’t accept this. It’s beautiful Henrik—but it’s too much.”

She allowed the chain to slide from her hand back into his. The glide of gold against her skin almost felt like a caress, the metal warmed by her skin, but she forced herself to suppress the longing that was rising up inside her.

Henrik didn’t answer, and she couldn’t bear to look at his face. This was already hard enough, even though she knew that it was for the best for both of them.

Hastily, she rose and took hold of her clothes. Pressing them against her chest, she all but fled into the bathroom, relieved when she could close the door behind her before Henrik could see the tears that threatened to rise.

 

***

Dara had turned the radio off as she drove back down the winding mountain road into Christmas Valley. This time, she had no eyes for the beauty of the snowy, picturesque village. Instead, she stopped at the first place that advertised free rooms.

It was all she had dreamed of when she’d decided that she needed a holiday. There was a cozy lounge downstairs with soft armchairs and a fire in the fireplace. The owners were an old, married couple who invited her to join them with a few of the other guests for card games and eggnog in the evening, and her room had a beautiful view of the town hall and the illuminated Christmas tree in front of it. Even now, she could hear the laughter of children having a snowball fight outside.

But instead of joy, all she felt was tiredness, and a sadness so vast it seemed to eat up all her hopes and dreams.

She slumped onto the bed, contemplating another nap. Not that sleep would make it better—but at least if she was asleep, she wouldn’t have to think of him, and what it had felt like to sleep next to him, his breath hot on her skin and his strong arms wrapped protectively around her.

But she’d promised to come downstairs for dinner. The other guests were going out that evening, but when Dara had mumbled something about being tired and needing an early night, the owner of the tiny hotel, Mrs. Henderson, had pressed her into at least accepting some of the stew she’d made for lunch.

“This is Christmas Valley, my dear,” Mrs. Henderson had said cheerfully. “No one goes to bed hungry here if I can help it!”

With a sigh, Dara dragged herself off to shower. Once she finally made it downstairs, the lobby was deserted. The other guests had already left to go out for dinner, and Dara was relieved.

In the kitchen, Mrs. Henderson had set out a plate for her and ladled stew into it as soon as Dara entered the room. Chunks of bright orange butternut squash swam in a rich broth together with carrots, potatoes and a generous amount of Italian sausage.

The smell was divine, and as soon as Dara had taken a first bite, she realized how hungry she was. She hadn’t eaten since that disastrous lunch. Now she finished off the plate gratefully while Mrs. Henderson moved through her large kitchen, humming along to the carols on the radio.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go out, dear?” she asked after she’d cleared the table. “The children’s choir is singing at the town hall today, and afterward, there’ll be a charity auction. Now this is going to sound strange to you, but we have our traditions here. You see, the children make little dragons—mostly wood or painted paper, all sorts of beautiful little trinkets, to hang on your tree. Local legend says that it’s good luck for the coming year to have a dragon on your tree.”

Dara smiled bleakly. Of course the village would have some sort of dragon custom. Wasn’t that what Henrik had told her? That his family of dragon shifters had watched out for this village for as long as they’d lived here?

Mrs. Henderson gave her a worried look when she didn’t answer. “You don’t like dragons? I suppose it’s a strange custom, but you should see the little dears showing off their creations for the auction!”

“No, it’s not that.” Dara swallowed, then took a deep breath. “I… I might have already seen enough of dragons for this holiday, that’s all.”

Mrs. Henderson nodded slowly, looking thoughtful. “That’s what I thought. You see, when my Walter was driving out to the castle to deliver the boxes of supplies for the week, he saw an abandoned car standing by the gate. Gave him quite a fright. That castle hasn’t seen any visitors in more than a decade. And what do you know, two days later that same car comes rolling up to our house…”

Dara looked down for a moment to gather her thoughts. When she looked up again, she was no longer smiling. “That means you know about Henrik.”

“Young Mr. Drakeson?” Mrs. Henderson gave her a penetrating look. “So it’s true. You’ve been to the castle. And—pardon me, my dear, but you don’t look like a dragon. I’ve lived here all my life, I know them when I see them.”

A small laugh escaped Dara despite herself. “I suppose this would all be easier if I were,” she admitted. “But no, I’m not. But I’ve been in the castle. I got lost in a storm—I would have died, but Henrik found me. He saved me. He brought me back to his castle, and it was…”

Love at first sight? That’s what she had thought. And it was true. She’d never felt such an instant connection with anyone else before.

But had it been true for him? If he hadn’t talked to anyone but his uncle for twenty years, then Alistair had been right. Henrik might have confused his feelings. After all, what did she know about him? He was carrying so much guilt and pain around, and she still didn’t know why.

Suddenly she looked up, realizing just what it was Mrs. Henderson had said.

She’s lived here her entire life… that means she might have known what happened to make him hide away in his castle!

“This is wonderful news,” Mrs. Henderson said softly, a tell-tale gleam in her eyes. Slowly, she sat down. “We’ve been hoping… but so many years have passed, and we feared he might remain all alone inside that empty old building of his…”

“What happened?” Dara asked. “Please. If you know… I’m worried I made a big mistake. I love him. And I think he loves me too. But I know nothing about dragons or his family, and it was all going so fast…”

Mrs. Henderson chuckled. “If he loves you, I’m surprised you’re sitting here at all! Never come between a dragon and his treasure. They’re terribly possessive creatures. That’s why we have these charity auctions. He can make big donations to help the town, and his dragon is content because he gets the children’s trinkets in return.”

“He really hasn’t left the castle or talked to anyone else in twenty years?” Dara asked.

“Not since the day his parents died.” Mrs. Henderson smiled sadly. “It was a tragic accident. It wasn’t his fault. There was ice on the road, and his parents were driving up into the mountains. He’d gone flying in the mountains—which is a terrible idea because you get sudden updrafts, or so my husband tells me. Anyway, Henrik was young and got himself stuck on a tiny ledge against the side of a cliff, the wind too strong for a young dragon. So his parents left right away. It was the night of our charity auction—frankly, I don’t know why they didn’t fly, but neither of them looked very good that night. They weren’t under the influence, all the police reports ruled that straight out. It was simply an accident. This is just what it’s like here in winter. It was very cold, and with the storm and the low visibility, they might have seen the turn too late. The street was a sheet of ice. The car broke through the railing and dropped.”

“Oh God,” Dara breathed, horror filling her as she slowly began to realize the magnitude of the pain Henrik had been carrying around within himself all these years. “And he thinks it was his fault?”

No wonder his uncle tried to protect him from more heartbreak after that…

Mrs. Henderson nodded, raising a hand to wipe at her eyes. “The funeral was the last time we saw him,” she said softly. “Poor boy. It wasn’t his fault. It was a terrible accident. Young dragons will go out and fly, just like children will go out and run. No one would blame him for it. His parents were racing and getting into trouble in those same updrafts when they were young. It was a tragedy—but I knew his parents would never have blamed him. No one did.”

“But he still blames himself,” Dara said, swallowing as she remembered the pain in his voice. Twenty years of solitude. He’d been punishing himself all these years.

Mrs. Henderson reached out to gently press her hand. “Maybe he’s starting to heal at last. This is such a wonderful sign; oh, I feared it wouldn’t happen in my lifetime! Just wait, any day now he will gift you with jewelry, and then—”

“He already did,” Dara said, giving Mrs. Henderson a wan smile. “I rejected it. I’d only known him two days; I know I look like a gold-digger, and I didn’t want him to think—”

“You rejected a dragon’s gift?” Mrs. Henderson clasped her chest, giving Dara a look of shock. “Oh, my dear… did he not tell you about dragons and their treasure?”

“They… really like their gold?” Dara asked carefully.

With a deep sigh, Mrs. Henderson shook her head. “Oh, what a mess. Never reject a dragon’s gift. They’re very particular about their hoard. They’ll defend it with their life against thieves. But at the same time, if they decide to gift a part of it, it is the highest honor imaginable, or a sign of deepest love. And rejecting that gift—”

“Would be a terrible insult,” Dara said slowly, her horror growing. “Or maybe… a rejection of that love? Oh, what have I done?”

“Now, now, dear.” Mrs. Henderson patted her hand, although she still looked worried. “He can’t just expect you to know all that! He should have told you. Normally, his father would have taken you aside to explain, or his mother—such a kind, beautiful woman. This is what comes of living in that empty building all by himself without a family to care for him. The boy is forgetting his manners.”

“I’ll have to talk to him,” Dara said determinedly. The thought of meeting his uncle again still filled her with terror—but the thought that she might have hurt Henrik by accident was even worse.

I don’t care about his money or his castle or any of these dragon things I don’t quite understand. But I need him to know that I love him, and that I want him more than anything, jewelry or not!

“It’s too dark outside to drive back up to the castle,” Mrs. Henderson said and nodded towards the window.

Dara saw that it had started to snow again. In the distance, she could now hear the faint sound of the children’s choir starting into Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer.

A faint smile tugged on Dara’s lips.

“I know, but… I think I might go out today after all,” she said slowly, her smile widening. “Dragons are good luck, you say? Maybe I’ll see about buying one of those good-luck dragons, and drive back to the castle first thing in the morning.”

“Bringing them a gift for their hoard is the way to a dragon’s heart,” Mrs. Henderson said in affirmation. “Not that I think you’ll need it. But he hasn’t had one of our village’s dragons on his tree in twenty years. I think he’ll appreciate that gesture more than you know…”