Chapter Twenty-Three: Carys

Carys gazed out of the back door of her aunt's cottage, mesmerized by the snowflakes gently drifting to the ground. The powdery white blanket reminded her of the powdered sugar Wilhelmina used to sprinkle on her Victoria Sponge.

But the tranquil scene before her blurred as the memories she had lost to the spell crowded in once again.

Memories of Varn.

The sense of betrayal she had felt the moment the spell broke lingered like a storm cloud, pushing back against all the good memories of her many meetings with Varn.

He was her mate. The truth of that pulsed in her blood, as undeniable as the bond she could now sense linking them together. But the painful memory of his betrayal clung to every thought of him.

And it had been a betrayal of the worst kind.

The burning memory of Varn's father, telling her to her face the lengths Varn had gone to in order to disrupt the peace meeting in Mythia, kept resurfacing. It had been the smirk on his face when he told her that made it all the worse, as if it was something he took joy from, that he was proud of his son for ruining something good that she and Orimorn, her longtime friend and colleague, had spent years bringing to realization.

A meeting between the kingdoms of Mythia that could have finally ended the conflict and the tensions in that faraway land, something that no one had been able to do in over a century, squandered by some dignitaries in Cairnnor.

The deal could have brought peace and prosperity to the realms of Mythia, but despite all their work, it had gone up in flames—literally—when the dragon lord of Cairnnor intervened. The dragon lord, who had not only undermined everything but had burned the talks to ash.

She had never learned exactly why the dragon lord did it. Never found out what or who had prompted him. All she knew was that it was one of the dragon lord's subjects—an influential figure—who had pushed for the destruction of the negotiations.

And that person had been Varn. He was said to have been the mind behind the sabotaging of the peace meetings.

After the negotiations fell through when Cairnnor offered support to one of the belligerent factions and undermined the trust that had been so painstakingly built between the kingdoms, Carys and Orimorn sailed to Cairnnor to try to negotiate a way forward where the dragons would support the peace treaty. However, after the meeting with Varn's father, they had been ejected from the isles instead.

All that had been lost, along with every other memory of Varn, until now, and Orimorn was loathe enough to talk of the whole ordeal that he never mentioned any of the dragons involved by name.

Carys took a deep breath, squeezing her eyes shut. The memories were jumbled and twisted. She had been so sure, absolutely certain, that Varn was involved, that he was complicit. And yet, with each flash of memory that surfaced, she saw a different side of him. One that didn't match the man she had built up in her mind—the villain who had torn apart everything she and her friend had worked so hard to build.

Could the Varn she knew now be capable of such a thing?

But if Varn hadn't been responsible… If he hadn't betrayed her friend, or her, then who had? And why would his father lie to her about his son sabotaging something like that?

"Carys?" Elsbeth had entered the kitchen so quietly that her touch made Carys jump.

"Aunt Elsbeth." Carys turned slowly, meeting her aunt's gaze. Elsbeth's arms were already open, and Carys stepped forward, seeking comfort. And Elsbeth had always offered that. Here in her cottage filled with a jumble of trinkets, the scent of drying herbs, and love.

"Oh, sweetheart," Elsbeth murmured, holding her tightly. "Let it out. Whatever it is you're feeling, just let it out."

Carys didn't resist. She buried her face in Elsbeth's shoulder, her breath hitching as the tears came—slow at first, then in a flood. All the pain, confusion, and heartache she'd been holding in poured out in waves.

Only when she was all cried out did Carys finally pull back, wiping the tears from her damp cheeks as she hiccupped. Elsbeth offered her a sad smile, brushing a strand of hair back from Carys's face.

"I don't know what to do," Carys whispered, her voice raw with emotion. "I know Varn is my mate. I can feel it in every part of me. But…the memories—his actions—they don't add up. He caused so much suffering in a faraway land."

"And you're sure of that?" Elsbeth asked quietly.

"Yes." Carys sucked in a shaky breath, but the word tasted bitter on her tongue. "At least…I think I am."

Elsbeth's expression softened further, and she sighed. "Sweetheart, I've been around a long time. I might not have traveled the world or met fancy people in castles and palaces, but I do know people. And if there's one thing I've learned, it's that memories can be tricky. People's perspectives color everything. No two people remember an incident in exactly the same way."

"I know that. But this is not just a different perspective," Carys insisted, shaking her head. "Varn was involved. The dragon lord burned those negotiations. Varn's father…" She faltered, the memories blurring again. "I confronted him about it. And he told me his son was the one who orchestrated the whole thing."

"And you trust what this man said? Is it possible it could have been made to look like it was Varn? Just because this man was Varn's father, doesn't mean he had Varn's best interests at heart," Elsbeth suggested in that calm way she had. "What if they already knew about your bond and they wanted to break it, to keep you apart?"

Carys swallowed hard. "His own father?" Another memory drifted into her mind. One that was much more recent—Varn had spoken of his father with no small amount of resentment when they had been by the frozen lake.

"You know what it was like on Cairnnor toward the end. Is it too much of a stretch of the imagination?" Elsbeth's eyes were knowing, almost too understanding. "Were you made to believe what they wanted you to believe?"

Carys fell silent, the weight of the question pressing down on her. She had been so certain when the memory had formed in her mind. But was she really sure? Or had the memories been twisted—turned against her, against them —to serve someone else's agenda?

She took a deep breath, her thoughts racing back over every memory she had of Varn since the spell broke. They were fragmented, out of order, but one thing remained constant—the Varn in those memories was not the cold, calculating man she had convinced herself he was. He was…different. Kind. Compassionate. Gentle, even when pushed.

She remembered the time he'd rescued a small child from a burning building, even though the structure had been moments from collapse. He'd emerged soot-stained and coughing, but triumphant, the little girl cradled safely in his arms. The relief and gratitude on the mother's face had made her fall in love with him even before he told her they were mates.

He hadn't done it to impress her, since he had not been able to sense her. It was only after the ordeal that she had approached and introduced herself, only to be shocked that this man was her mate.

She remembered the way he'd cared for an injured wolf he'd found in the dense forests they had been camping in, nursing it back to health with a patience and gentleness that had surprised her. He'd stayed up for nights on end, feeding it broth and changing its bandages, until it was strong enough to return to its pack.

When she'd asked him about it, he'd said it was what anyone would have done. But she'd seen the pain in his eyes and known in her heart that he was injured, too. Perhaps not physically, but emotionally.

But those injuries had not made him shut down emotionally. If anything, he had opened up more, determined to help others even if he himself was hurting. It was a quiet strength, one that didn't demand attention or accolades. Varn simply did what he believed was right, no matter the personal cost.

And then of course there was their boat picnic. What a magical moment it had been to be alone in the quiet winter landscape.

There were also all the little things—the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled at her, the way he always seemed to know just what to say to make her feel better on a bad day. The way he looked at her sometimes, like she was the most precious thing in the world to him. More precious than the greatest treasure.

"Do you want my advice?" Elsbeth asked softly.

Carys nodded slowly. "Always."

"Then here it is," Elsbeth said, cupping her cheek as she locked eyes with her niece. "Everyone makes mistakes, Carys. And everyone deserves a chance to explain, to find the truth. You owe it to yourself, and to Varn, to chip away at this until you find what's real. Until you know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, what really happened."

"And if I don't like the truth?" Carys whispered.

"And if you do?" Elsbeth arched a questioning eyebrow.

Carys opened her mouth to reply, then stopped. She was scared. That was the truth of it. She could cling to her opinion of Varn right now. She could push him away and go on with her life as it was before.

That would be the easy option in so many ways. No negotiations over where and how they were going to live, whether they wanted a family, whether they would settle down or travel.

If she accepted Varn as her mate, she would no longer be free to pursue her career as she pleased, flitting from country to country as the diplomatic winds carried her.

But maybe it was time for her to put herself first for once. She longed for a family, children… Sure, this might mean compromising her career, but the Varn she knew in her heart would help her, support her…

She sucked in a deep breath, letting the thought settle. "I need to know the truth one way or the other," she admitted finally, which was both terrifying and liberating.

"Then find out," Elsbeth urged. "Start by finding him ."

"I don't even know where he is," Carys said, her voice breaking a little. Had she lost him already? By pushing him away, had she ruined any future they might have together? He was a dragon shifter. After all, he could already be miles away, far across the sea. "I don't…"

"Yes, you do," Elsbeth interrupted bluntly. "If you look inside yourself, really look, you'll know. Because if what you and Varn have is true love, then the mating bond will guide you."

Carys closed her eyes, focusing inward. She let the connection between them hum and pulse, giving it life as it stretched out, searching for the part of her soul that was intertwined with his.

And then…she felt it.

A warm, glowing presence. Familiar, comforting, undeniable.

A smile tugged at her lips. "I know where he is."

"Where?" Elsbeth asked.

Carys's smile widened. "The Lonely Tavern. Of course."

"Where else?" Elsbeth rolled her eyes. "Then go. Talk to him. And make sure that Morwenna doesn't throw anything off the rails."

Carys nodded, turning on her heel and heading out of the door. She didn't look back as she stepped out into the snow, the cold air biting at her cheeks, her breath puffing out in soft clouds.

She let the sense of Varn guide her, tugging her through the streets lined with glowing lights and storefronts filled with magical Christmas decorations. The town was alive with Yuletide magic, and yet, it all seemed to blur into the background as she followed the thread of their bond.

The closer she got to the tavern, the stronger the pull became. Her heartbeat quickened, and the warmth of his presence grew, filling her with a sense of rightness. This—him—everything about being with Varn felt right, even when her mind tried to rebel against it. As she drew closer, she became more and more sure that there was some explanation for everything that had happened.

Finally, she reached the heavy wooden door of The Lonely Tavern. Snow swirled around her, blinding her for a moment as she hesitated for a heartbeat, then the door slowly pulled itself open, welcoming her inside.

And she stepped in. Right into Varn's solid chest.

He moved instantly, his hands wrapping around her arms to steady her, his touch sending sparks skittering across her skin. "Carys," he breathed as if he could hardly believe she was here in his arms.

For a moment, she leaned into him, closing her eyes as she let herself feel—really feel —what it was like to be close to him again. His warmth, his strength… It was almost overwhelming, but in the best possible way.

Slowly, she pulled back, looking up at him. The pain in his eyes made her heart ache. "Varn," she murmured.

"I'm going back to Cairnnor," he said abruptly, his voice tight. "I'm going to start in the tower where I was held and search for any records of what he might have done to make you think I hurt you. I need to prove to you that I would never betray you or anyone."

Her breath caught in her throat as everything suddenly became startlingly clear. "You don't need to do that."

"Yes, I do," he ground out, his eyes fierce. "I need to show you… Prove to you…"

"No," she interrupted, shaking her head. She lifted a hand, cupping his face, her thumb brushing over the hard line of his jaw. "I just needed to let you explain yourself, to hear your side of the story. I only heard what your father told me, and I understand that you two didn't have the best relationship."

"You could certainly say that," Varn grumbled. "I'm not sure what you think I did, but I can set it right."

Carys paused for a moment. This was the truth she had been waiting for. "What happened in Mythia all that time ago?"

Varn's eyes went wide. Then he frowned. "Mythia? I don't recall ever going to Mythia. We never met there…at least I don't remember us meeting there."

"No, we never met there." Carys took a deep breath. "A good friend and I had worked for years trying to broker a peace deal, and we were on the verge of securing stability in the kingdoms, but the old dragon lord intervened, and I was told by your father that you were the one who sabotaged it."

"My father," Varn ground out. "Of course, all this would be his doing."

"What do you mean?" Carys asked.

Varn closed his eyes for a moment, recalling something. "My father came to me with the dragon lord's plan to upset the peace meeting in Mythia. He had heard rumors of the large trove of treasure the kingdoms kept and hoped that the conflict would weaken all sides, allowing Cairnnor to swoop in and take it for themselves. I was the one chosen to perform the task."

Carys held a breath.

"But I refused. Much to the anger of my father. So, I was punished. That is why I was imprisoned." Varn's brow furrowed further. "Why were you talking to my father?"

Carys let her breath out slowly, beginning to feel relief as things pieced together. "After the negotiations in Mythia fell through, we sailed straight away for Cairnnor to try to change the dragons' stance on the whole thing. I guess I was supposed to meet you, but…you were in prison. So, it was your father I met…"

"And he let me take the fall…and to my mate, no less. He must have realized you, the diplomat coming to try and stop his meddling, was my mate."

It was Carys's turn to frown. "How did he know?"

Varn tilted his head and pursed his lips. "Well, I wasn't exactly sitting quietly in a jail cell while my mate was so close. I'm sure that he could tell from my…behavior."

"You were trying to break out by sheer force, I'm guessing?" Morwenna's voice cut through the air, reminding Carys they were not alone. "Perhaps you tried bashing your head against the brick wall?"

"Something like that," Varn said sheepishly.

"Go Varn!" Stan whooped.

"Well, it didn't exactly do much good," Varn smiled wryly.

"Oh." Carys put her fingers to her forehead. "I think I understand now."

"You do?" Harry asked.

"That's who, and why, we had that spell cast on us," Carys began. "He was punishing you, but he was also worried that if we ever met, and I explained the situation in Mythia, you would do whatever you could to make things right. Because you're my mate and a good person. So, he intended for us to never meet, which is why he made sure you wouldn't be able to sense me and the spell meant we wouldn't remember each other even if by chance we did meet."

She felt Varn tense. "I can't…believe he would do such a thing. I knew he could be cruel, but that…"

He froze as Flint placed a large hand on his shoulder. "Well, luckily, we don't have to worry about him anymore. I don't know who…your father…or my father…found to cast such a powerful spell, but those two are not around to cause us any more trouble."

"You have nothing to prove to me, Varn. Nothing at all," Carys said.

He stared at her, confusion and hope warring in his eyes. "But…you said…"

"I was wrong," she whispered, as she let herself remember all the moments where he had been true to himself. Honest. Decent. A good man. The man she now believed him to be, even when the world tried to convince her otherwise.

"Carys…" His voice was hoarse, filled with so much emotion it nearly broke her.

She smiled up at him, although her eyes were misted with tears. "The spell is broken, Varn. A spell that was put on us by those who did not have our, or anyone's, best interests at heart. But despite their best efforts to keep us apart, here we are. And our revenge should be a wonderful life together."

For a heartbeat, he seemed frozen, as if afraid to move, to even breathe. And then he exhaled slowly, the tension draining from his shoulders.

"Before the downfall of the dragon lord, I lived a life where people tore each other down to get ahead. To gain favor or power or riches. When I left Cairnnor, I left that all behind and vowed I would walk a different path," he murmured, his hand covering hers. "I want to walk that path with you, Carys. Wherever you lead, I will follow."

"Does that mean you are okay with me continuing in my work?" Carys asked.

"Okay with it?" Varn inched away from her, his eyes locked on her face. "What you do, what you achieve, is nothing short of a miracle. Bringing people together, helping them set their differences aside…" He gave her a crooked smile. "I love you for who you are and what you do."

"That seems such a strange thing to say since in some ways we have only just met," Carys said as her cheeks flushed with pride.

"Oh, Carys, we have known each other for years. Decades. The times we shared might have been fleeting, but they are precious to me. So very precious," Varn said, and then he lowered his head and kissed her lips.

"Ah, a happy ending," Stan said.

"You could call it a Christmas miracle," Harry agreed.

"Or maybe it's just the magic of true love," Burt said. "The kind of love that can overcome any obstacle, break any spell."

Carys and Varn turned to face her, their hands still intertwined.

"Or a Yule miracle," Carys said. "The winter solstice is a time of great magic, after all."

"So, let's go and enjoy it," Varn said and took her hand, leading her toward the tavern door.

"Good idea!" Stan said as the Regulars jogged after them.

"There's more magic in a mug of bread beer!" Morwenna called out.

But Carys and Varn were already out the door, hand in hand as they stepped into the snowy wonderland. The bells of Wishing Moon Bay rang out, signifying the start of the Yule celebrations.

"Oh well, if you can't beat them, join them!" Morwenna grumbled as she stepped out of The Lonely Tavern. "Brushworth, you are in charge."

With that, the door closed behind her, and the tavern stood quiet. Perhaps waiting for the next couple who would need a little help to find true love.