Dropping my head back against his chest, I smiled up at him. “Wait until you see what I plan to wear to bed.”
“Oh, I like the sound of that already.” His lips trailed across my neck. Sparks of luscious heat followed. As he held me close, I relished the feel of him. This was the first night in what I hoped would be a long line of them, with Ragnar serving ale by my side, a freshly painted wagon to call my own, and an open road full of possibility.
Epilogue
LILIA
ONE YEAR LATER
“Look at you!” Nilsa proclaimed, rushing up the hill. Her beaming smile felt like home, one of the few I’d ever known. She waved several pies in the air, then tossed them up to Reykur and his siblings as they swooped low overhead.
“Don’t tell me you’ve forsaken the bean stew for some pie now,” I said with a laugh. “I might start to think you like my dragon more than me.”
“Oh hush.” She wrapped her arms around my waist and hugged me tight. “You know I have a vat of the stuff ready and waiting for you at the inn.” Pulling back, she gave Ragnar a once-over. “Well, looks like you’ve kept your promise. She’s alive and well. And judging by her smile, she’s happy enough.”
Rivelin and Daella came around from the rear of the wagon, their fenrir, Skoll, bounding along beside them. They were hand-in-hand, like always, steam hissing into the air where they touched. I’d convinced them both to come along this time. They’d jumped at the chance and brought Skoll and the rest of the dragons with them.
Nilsa cocked her head at them. “Who’s this now?”
“Nilsa, meet my brother, Rivelin, and his partner, Daella.”
“Oh, I’ve heard of you. The half-orc.” Nilsa loosed an appreciative whistle and eagerly took Daella’s offered hand. “I must say, it’s an honor to meet you. Surviving the conqueror like you did. That was mighty brave of you.”
“You would have done the same, I’m sure,” Daella said, smiling.
“Bah!” Nilsa swatted at her. “You’re too kind. What’s your favorite food, dear? Let me guess…” She cocked her head, looking Daella up and down, taking in her cropped shirt and the way she leaned against my brother’s shoulder. Not for support, but because they didn’t much like having more than the smallest gap of air between them, if that. “A pasty. I bet you love a good mushroom and cheese pasty.”
Daella’s cocked her head, brow raised. “How in fate’s name did you figure that out?”
“I have a gift.” Nilsa winked and motioned for our party to follow her back down the hill to where the town was already bursting with visitors. We hadn’t come so early this year. I didn’t feel the need to be so territorial about my spot anymore. No matter how packed the meadow was, I’d find somewhere to park my wagon. We’d have a lovely Yule, enjoying our time together. That was all that truly mattered.
We followed Nilsa down the hill. When we reached the path that cut through the stone buildings and into town, she swerved toward the meadow instead. I left the others to jog ahead and fall into step beside the dwarf.
“No need to go to the grounds just yet,” I told her. “I’m sure Rivelin and Daella would love to get off their feet and enjoy some food beside the hearth.”
“Oh, they’re fine. They look as sprightly as you do.” A small smile tickled her lips. “Besides, I can’t wait to show you what we’ve done.”
I squinted at her. “Nilsa, don’t tell me you’re making a big deal out of the Traveling Tavern.”
She held up her hands and laughed. “It wasn’t my idea. You can blame Steffon and Ivar when you see them.”
“Steffon did something?”
“That’s right,” she said smugly. “Seems you made an impression on him.”
We rounded the corner. Verdant grass rolled across the meadow, peppered with a multitude of flowers. They were vibrant and alive, despite the chill in the air. Carts and wagons and tents packed the winding paths, and a gleaming new stage hunkered near the entrance, where a pixie bard sang with a band of dwarves. Folk wandered through it all, talking and laughing and shopping at the stalls. Yule wasn’t for a few more days, but the celebration had already begun.
Nilsa pointed through the festival. There, by my old spot, a vacant patch of land remained. A new willow tree had sprung from the ground, so tall and rich with indigo leaves that it looked like it had been there for decades, at least.
“But how?” I whispered, too awed to say more than that.
“The magic of the island stuck around after last year’s Yule.” She gestured at the grass, the flowers, and the tree. “Ulrika thinks it wanted us to have this, even without us asking. I suppose we have your kind deeds to thank for that.”
“Nilsa, all I did was bring back the ale that my own dragon stole from me.”
“And you could have just kept it for yourself after you found it.” She shrugged. “So there you go. Steffon saved that spot for your Traveling Tavern. It’s yours if you want it.”
Ragnar came up behind me. “I’ve got a better idea. I’ll take it for myself and brew my own ale. I know how to make the good stuff now.”
