Chapter Six: Varn

The people in Varn's past had been cruel. His father, Flint's father, the dragon lord and his cronies... They had brought Varn and his mate almost together. They could have let them meet and be together. But bureaucracy and politics had gotten in the way.

Somehow, he and Carys had torn them apart before they even had a chance to make a connection.

Yet Fate, it seemed, had given them a second chance. It had brought them together for a second time.

And this time, nothing was going to tear them apart.

His dragon roared in agreement, eager to meet their mate, to feel her hands on his scales, to know for himself that she was real.

She is, Varn assured his dragon. Not only was she real, but she understood him. She understood what he'd lost all those years ago when their paths so nearly intersected. She was straight to the point and unafraid to hear the bad along with the good.

"So, Liselle is your cousin?" Varn asked, trying to make small talk, to learn more about his mate, while steering clear of anything too serious. Today was about celebration, not raking over the past.

There would be time for that later.

You're right, his dragon agreed. This is our first date, and a first date should be memorable for the right reasons.

And that was a challenge Varn was willing to accept. With that, he picked up the picnic basket, and by the weight of it in his hands, he suspected Liselle had packed plenty of food.

She does have a dragon shifter for a mate, too, Varn's dragon said. She's aware of our appetite.

"Yes," Carys said in answer to his question about her family. "At least she is a second cousin. Liselle's mom, Katerina, and Elsbeth are my mom's cousins. But Elsbeth made it very clear that she would never be a grand-aunt or a great-aunt. No matter what. And so I call them both aunt ."

Varn chuckled. "Elsbeth is a formidable woman. And a formidable witch."

"She is," Carys agreed, looking around. "Shall we go and sit on the boat and pretend we are having a picnic on the lake? I'd hate to have to tell the Regulars that we never ate it after all their efforts."

"Sure." Varn didn't care where they ate as long as he was with his mate. "So, you are a Norwood witch? If you're related to Liselle's family," he asked as they walked around the side of the lake toward the small rowboat, which sat on the frosty shore where a jetty was probably buried beneath the snow.

At least this is one boat you cannot rock , his dragon told him.

Funny, Varn replied dryly.

"Yes, I am," Carys said with some pride. "It's funny. That means a lot here in Wishing Moon Bay. My family name goes back generations to when the protection spell was first cast. But the farther I get from Wishing Moon Bay, the less it means."

"You are judged for who you are and what you do. Not who your family is." Varn stopped by the side of their boat. It was little more than a dinghy, with only room for the two of them, but it seemed good enough. Not that he had any knowledge of what made a boat good or bad. He had never been one for ocean voyages. There was little point in being stuck on a ship bobbing on the waves when you could fly over them much faster, and without depositing the contents of your stomach over the side of the railings.

"Yes." Carys leaned down and inspected the boat before straightening up and pointing to another one a few meters up the shore named Little Minnow . "I think that one will do just fine."

"Isn't this the one that Harry reserved for us, though?" Varn peered at the name painted onto the hull. "The Lily Pad ?"

Carys smiled endearingly at him. "It is, but I don't think anyone else is going to be using any boats today. So I think we can take our pick."

Varn looked at the two boats, comparing them, trying to see what his mate could see. But to him, a boat was just a boat. As long as there were no holes and two oars...

The lake is frozen, his dragon reminded him. Oars are inconsequential.

"Don't tell me you have never been on a rowboat either?" Carys asked, resting her hand on his shoulder.

"Of course I have," Varn blustered.

Thirty years ago , his dragon murmured.

It's a good thing she can't hear you, Varn told his dragon bluntly.

"Do you need a hand to get in?" He held out his hand before she answered. It was the chivalrous thing to do, but Carys was a woman of the world. Would he offend her with his offer of help?

"Why, thank you," Carys said with a small smile. "Boats, especially small ones, can sometimes be unsteady. Perhaps not so when they are on dry land, but it's good practice for next time."

She placed her hand in his and he closed his fingers, resisting the urge to pull her into his arms then and there. Her touch sent sparks through his body, awakening a part of him that had lain dormant for far too long.

Varn helped Carys step carefully into the boat, steadying her as she found her footing. Once she was seated, he handed her the picnic basket before climbing in himself, the boat rolling gently under his weight.

As he settled onto the wooden bench across from Carys, their knees brushing in the small space, Varn held his breath, staring at her as he marveled at the sudden turn his life had taken. After years of searching, of longing, here he was, sitting in a boat on a frozen lake with his mate.

His dragon hummed contentedly, basking in her nearness.

Carys opened the basket and began unpacking an array of delectable treats—crusty bread, fragrant cheeses, plump grapes. "Liselle truly outdid herself," she remarked, handing Varn a Thermos of soup, which was pleasantly warm in the cool evening air.

He twisted the lid and inhaled the aroma of rich tomatoes and basil, which brought with it the scent of summer. As he carefully poured the soup into the two bowls Carys set out on the wooden bench, he looked out across the lake.

And a sudden idea occurred to him.

The lake was ice. And he was fire.

The two do not mix, his dragon reminded him.

That is the point, he replied. Besides, do you want an excuse to meet our mate or not?

"What are you thinking, dragon shifter?" Carys picked up a bowl and cupped it in her hand, blowing on it to cool the rich red liquid.

"How do you know I am not thinking how beautiful my mate is, and how fortunate I am to be here, on this lake with her?" Varn asked.

Carys put her hand to her mouth and coughed as if his words had made her choke on her soup. "Flattering words, to be sure. But that look on your face had nothing to do with my beauty. You were thinking about something."

"Are you a mind reader?" Varn took a gulp of his soup. It was delicious. He would have to thank Liselle the next time he saw her.

"Some people think so." Carys cupped her bowl in her hands. "But I don't read minds. I read body language. We each make small micro-movements that give us away. And when you were thinking about something, just now, you were not looking at me."

"And what am I giving away right now?" Varn asked, his eyes drawn to the curve of her lips as she drank her soup.

"Oh, no. I am not getting into that game," she told him with a laugh and offered him some crusty bread.

He accepted the bread and dipped it in his soup before eating it. "Then I'll tell you what I was thinking."

"I'm listening," she replied.

"I was thinking that boats are meant to sail on the water," he said.

"Only this boat has no sail," she observed, and then looked up at the trees. "And even if there was a sail, there is no wind, nor water."

"And your magic can't help with that?" Varn asked.

"It could." Her eyes narrowed at him. "If the lake was not frozen."

Varn drained his soup and then stood up. The boat rocked a little, where their movements had broken it free from the ice surrounding it. "That, I can solve."

"Oh?" Carys leaned on the edge of the boat and watched him.

Varn stepped out of the boat and took a good handful of strides away farther onto the shore before he turned and faced her.

This is the moment we've been waiting for all our lives, Varn said as he let his dragon take control.

The air shimmered around him, glistening particles of snow being brushed up into the air to join the crackling energy as Varn disappeared from the world as man, and an instant later appeared as a dragon, materializing out of air and primal energy. He towered above the boat, his red scales gleaming like fire against the pale whites and blues of the wintry landscape.

Varn could feel his dragon's heart race as they saw the look of awe on their mate's face.

His dragon bowed his head, inching closer to her as she stood up in the boat, leaning forward and reaching out to touch him.

The moment was electric. As her hands smoothed over his scales, a deep rumble of contentment rose from within Varn's chest. His dragon purred under Carys's gentle touch, relishing the connection they shared.

Carys gazed up at him, her eyes wide with wonder. "Even in my line of work, it's not often to see a dragon up close, let alone one so…magnificent, so regal," she breathed, her voice barely above a whisper.

Varn's dragon huffed out a puff of warm air, ruffling her auburn hair. He lowered his head farther, and she cupped his slender, serpentine face in her hands before resting her forehead on his. They stayed like this, sharing their connection, their bond, for the longest moment, and then the dragon stepped backward, ready to bring their plan to fruition, to make sure this was truly a first date Carys would never forget.

He sucked in a breath before releasing a small, steady stream of dragon fire. The deep red and orange tongues of flames spread across the white-blue ice, which turned a deep crimson as the glow of the fire reflected off it. It looked as though the sun was setting in the depths of the lake.

The ice quickly turned into a thick cloud of hissing steam, which was pleasantly warm on the dragon's scales, and caught the bloom of fire, as if adding clouds to the sunset scene unfolding before them.

Carys watched in amazement as Varn transformed the winter landscape before her eyes, melting swathes of the lake back into water. The dragon's power was awe-inspiring, yet he wielded it with such precision and grace. When he finished, Varn shifted back into his human form and strode down the bank toward her, his eyes glinting with satisfaction.

"Shall we set sail, my lady?" he asked with a flourish as he pushed the stern of the boat into the water and stepped aboard.

Carys bowed her head. "I believe we shall, good sir."

Carys turned back to face forward and muttered a spell. The gently steaming surface of the surrounding water took on ripples, disturbed by an unfelt wind that gently pushed the boat away from the shore and toward the center of the lake.

The mist now hanging over the lake shrouded them from the shore. The gentle lapping of the surrounding water was all they could hear. They had been transported to their own private bubble, where nothing else mattered but each other.

Carys sat back down, a contented smile playing on her lips. "Not bad for a first date, wouldn't you say?"

"Not bad at all," Varn agreed.

But she was not finished yet.

Her hands weaved an effortless spell, and the small lights, like fireflies, began to twinkle in the mist-filled air around them, casting a warm glow over the boat. The lights danced and swirled, winking in and out of existence, reflecting off the water like stars.

Varn took one last look around him before setting his eyes on the centerpiece of the whole scene—Carys. He reached across the small space between them and took Carys's hand in his. Not only had she brought to life the lake he had transformed with fire, but she had also brought to life his hopes and dreams of his future.

"You're incredible," he murmured, his thumb tracing circles on the back of her hand.

Carys ducked her head, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. "I just wanted to add a touch of magic to the moment. To make sure it's special."

"It is special. More than I could have ever imagined." Varn's voice was thick with emotion. After years of searching, of longing, he was finally here with the woman of his dreams.

Carys leaned back, her head resting on Varn's shoulder as she admired her handiwork. "Happy first date."

And he swore this would be the first of many.