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.