Chapter Eight: Varn

Varn had never been part of a big family. In some ways, he felt as if he had never been part of a family at all, any time spent with his father felt more akin to a strategy meeting than anything else.

So being thrust into the midst of Carys's warm, and in some ways overpowering family, held the same dread as being thrown into a pit of vipers.

At least, it might have, if her family and her aunt's coven were not quite so welcoming.

In a somewhat intimidating way, nonetheless, his dragon said, as one of the coven members, Wilhelmina, thrust a plate filled with delicious cream cakes under his nose.

"Try the lemon meringue," Wilhelmina urged with a warm smile and the plate of cakes in her hands. "It's an old family recipe, passed down through generations of witches in my lineage. It's to die for."

And you might die if you don't try them , his dragon said dryly at what had sounded like a command. Witches had never truly been their thing .

Varn hesitantly accepted the meringue, careful not to crush the delicate confection in his thick fingers as he added it to his plate, which already contained bite-sized sandwiches that would sustain a man for five minutes at most, and a slab of chocolate cake, with thick velvety frosting.

"What do you think?" Wilhelmina arched a questioning…

Or threatening, his dragon interjected.

It's definitely a questioning eyebrow , Varn insisted as he took a small bite. The tartness of the lemon filling balanced perfectly with the delicate, fluffy meringue. It was like a burst of sunshine on his tongue.

"It's delicious," he managed to say, his mouth still half-full. Wilhelmina beamed at the compliment.

Well played, his dragon said with more than a hint of amusement.

Varn spotted Carys watching the exchange from across the room, a small smile on her lips as Wilhelmina slapped him on the back before drifting away.

Why can't we sense her? his dragon asked, not for the first time since they had met their mate.

When they had been together by the lake, she'd been so close, he'd forgotten that she was hidden from him somehow.

But here, in a room filled with people, it was as if his senses slipped right over her. Something he had never experienced before. It was the strangest feeling, having to look for her, not knowing instinctively where she was at all times.

"How are you doing?" Flint asked as he took Wilhelmina's place by his side.

"Good." Varn had been so preoccupied with his mate that he hadn't sensed Flint's approach.

Perhaps our senses are simply failing us , his dragon bemoaned.

"They can seem a little…much…when you first meet them like this." Flint picked up a brownie from his plate and took a bite. "Especially for guys like us, not being used to all this…friendliness."

A little much! Varn's dragon puffed out a plume of smoke. If this is what they are like when they are drinking tea, I shudder to think what they might be like on anything stronger!

I kind of like them. Varn glanced around the room, taking in the lively chatter and laughter that filled the air. The coven members seemed to be enjoying themselves, their faces alight with joy as they shared gossip while teasing each other relentlessly. It was a far cry from the somber, serious gatherings he was used to attending back on Cairnnor.

"It's certainly not what I imagined a tea party to be like," Varn admitted, his lips twitching into a small smile. "I always thought them to be a bit more formal."

"Just wait until they break out the elderberry wine," Flint said with a chuckle. "That's when things really get interesting."

Varn glanced at Flint and nodded. "You have changed so much in this last year."

Flint licked his fingers as he finished his brownie. "I am much changed."

"Yes, I don't hear you grumbling about happy holidays and festivities anymore." Varn picked up one of the tiny sandwiches and popped it in his mouth.

The flavor of the cucumber and dill exploded on his tongue, a refreshing contrast to the sweetness of the meringue. Varn chewed thoughtfully, his eyes scanning the room until they landed on Carys once more. She was deep in conversation with one of her cousins, her auburn hair gleaming under the soft light of the chandelier.

"I suppose I've learned that happiness can be found in the most unexpected places," Flint said, following Varn's gaze. "And with the most unexpected people."

"Most unexpected." Varn nodded. He had spent so long searching for his mate, driven by a sense of incompleteness that had haunted him for years. And now, here she was, just a few feet away, yet still somehow out of reach, of perhaps more than just his senses.

As if sensing his thoughts, Carys glanced up, her hazel eyes meeting his across the crowded room. A small smile played on her lips, and she tilted her head slightly, as if beckoning him to join her. Varn's heart skipped a beat, and he took a step forward, only to be intercepted by another member of the coven.

"Macaron," she offered, her voice warm and inviting, her gaze cool and calculating. "I'm Neave."

"Varn," he replied as he helped himself to a macaron.

"Oh, I know who you are," Neave told him.

"Neave knows everyone and everything about everyone," Flint said easily.

"Not quite true." Neave held up a finger. "Your employer outfoxes me at every turn." Neave tapped her chin thoughtfully. "But I'm working on it."

Varn raised an eyebrow. "Morwenna?"

"Yes, Morwenna," Neave said with a sly grin. "She's a tough nut to crack, but I do love a challenge."

Flint laughed. "Good luck with that. Morwenna guards her secrets like a dragon guards its hoard. Perhaps even more fiercely than that."

"Speaking of dragons..." Neave turned her piercing gaze back to Varn.

Why do I feel like telling her my every secret? Varn asked his dragon. I fear what would happen if we didn't.

I don't know, maybe she is related to one of the grand inquisitors of Brisewater. His dragon curled his lip in distaste.

Varn shifted uncomfortably under her scrutiny. No, I don't think that's it.

Maybe it's something she put in that macaron , his dragon suggested.

"Neave," Flint's voice held a hint of a warning and a large dollop of humor. "You don't want to scare Varn off, do you?"

"Scare off a dragon shifter?" Neave laughed. "Little old me?" Her eyes widened as she feigned innocence.

"Yes, little old you," Flint said.

"Well, I take my role very seriously, as you know," Neave replied.

"And what is your role?" Varn ventured to ask.

"Neave is the town gossip and the chairman of the nosey neighbor committee," Liselle explained as she joined Flint's side.

There's a committee for that? Varn's dragon asked.

I think she is joking, Varn replied, although he wasn't too sure.

Neave snorted. "Someone has to keep tabs on all the goings-on in Wishing Moon Bay. And I feel it is my duty to pass on any recent information to those who need to know."

"Like I said, town gossip." Liselle slipped her arm around Neave and hugged her. "Neave is also very good at dishing out advice. She's the town's defect agony aunt."

"I don't understand," Varn replied.

"Oh dear, I always thought dragons were a little dim." Neave cast a look at Flint before focusing on Varn. "People. Tell me. Their problems…"

"Oh, I know what an agony aunt is," Varn said. "But what I don't understand is why people would tell you their problems and ask for advice if you are going to spread it all over town."

"Oh, no." Neave shook her head adamantly. "What people tell me in confidence is never repeated."

"Neave is very discreet," Liselle said with a serious nod. "She may seem like a blabbermouth, but when it comes to truly personal matters, she's as tight-lipped as a clam."

Varn nodded slowly, still not entirely convinced. The concept of a town gossip who was also a trusted confidant seemed like a contradiction in terms. But then again, much about Wishing Moon Bay defied his expectations and understanding.

"I see," he said, taking another bite of the macaron. The delicate almond flavor melted on his tongue, and he couldn't help but close his eyes for a moment, savoring the taste.

"So, tell me," Neave said, drawing his attention back to her, "what are your intentions toward our dear Carys?"

Varn's eyes snapped open, and he nearly choked on the macaron. "My intentions?"

"Yes. I gather from what Flint has told us that you have been traveling for the past year," Neave said. "Searching for yourself."

"No, Neave," Flint said. "Varn has been searching for his mate."

"Well, she's right over there, so lucky you the search is over," Neave said, pointing at Carys. "But that does not answer my questions."

"My intentions are true," Varn replied with his hand on his heart.

Neave tugged her brows together. "But what does that actually mean? It's all well and good spouting words, but I'm more interested in your actions."

"Neave." Liselle slipped her arm through Neave's arm and guided her away. "Let's not overwhelm Varn with questions just yet. He and Carys still need time to get acquainted."

Varn shot Liselle a grateful look as she led Neave toward the dessert table, engaging her in a discussion about the merits of raspberry versus blackberry jam. He took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart. Neave had gotten under his skin, making him question his own intentions and motives.

"Don't mind Neave," Flint said, clapping Varn on the shoulder. "She means well, even if her methods are a bit...unorthodox."

"I can see that," Varn replied, his eyes drifting back to Carys. "I'm relieved Carys has people who love her looking out for her."

"It's strange, isn't it?" Flint murmured.

"What is?" Varn asked.

"All this?" His gaze swept the room, taking in the people gathered in Elsbeth's house chatting and laughing together. "A year ago, I never would have imagined myself in a place like this, surrounded by so much warmth and love. Hell, I didn't think families like this even existed outside of fairy tales."

Varn nodded, understanding the sentiment all too well. "It's a far cry from our families."

"Indeed," Flint agreed, a wistful note in his voice. "But I've come to realize that there's a certain beauty in allowing oneself to be part of a community, to form deep connections with others no matter who they are and where they come from. We can go it alone, but it's much nicer not to, trust me."

Varn's gaze drifted back to Carys, who was now sampling a plate of petit fours that Wilhelmina had shoved under her nose. "I'm beginning to see that," he murmured, a soft smile playing on his lips.

"Do you want my advice?" Flint asked.

A year ago, Varn would have said a resounding no . In fact, he'd have probably swung at Flint for his insolence. But they had both changed. Varn's trip abroad to find his mate might have been unsuccessful, but he had learned much about himself.

It helped to see Flint's transformation from the hardened outcast to…well, attending tea parties, and working as a bartender. A year ago Varn had seen red, and then green, as envy consumed him whenever he saw Flint happy. But now he looked at his fellow dragon shifter with respect.

And yes, if he had to admit it, affection.

Flint was a trail blazer and Varn hoped to follow his path.

And in many ways, he already had. He was softer and more empathetic toward others. He'd slowly let go of the chip on his shoulder and learned that most people had wounds of their own. Either internal or external, no one got through life without being bruised and battered in one way or another.

And with that realization, he'd allowed himself to open up more, to be more vulnerable.

You mean we no longer hide behind our bitterness . His dragon puffed out a lazy plume of smoke.

"Yes," Varn said, turning to face Flint fully. "I would appreciate your advice."

Flint inclined his head toward Carys. "Don't overthink it. Just be yourself and let things unfold naturally with Carys. Believe in fate and don't fight it."

Varn nodded. "I want to do right by her, to be the mate she deserves."

"You will be," Flint assured him. "But that doesn't mean you have to be the mate you think she deserves."

"That's rather cryptic," Varn grumbled. "You have spent far too much time around these witches."

Flint chuckled. "I don't mean to be cryptic. I suppose what I really mean is that fate brought you together because you are perfect for each other. And together you will grow and change. But remember that you, the you who you are now, is the you Carys needs."

"You're telling me not to force it." Varn nodded.

"I'm saying that you have to be true to yourself. Be your true self." Flint arched an eyebrow.

"I suppose one of the most un-festive people in the whole world has managed to find happiness with a very festive woman." Varn glanced over to Liselle as she wrapped tinsel around her shoulders like a sparkling scarf, much to the amusement of her older children, Hazel and Casper. "Or perhaps your true self really did like happy holidays all along?" Varn asked lightly.

"Oh, yes." His expression lit up like a festive Christmas tree as Katerina approached holding Flint's baby daughter. "Do I love happy holidays!"