Like a damnable curse, she’d offered up the lips he’d dreamed about kissing every day and night of his life.
Daric scrubbed a hand down his face and paced.
What had he imagined for the future? That Rain would remain his companion, his joy, while he did his duty and sired children with the vicious Astraea for the good of Raanaleath?
That Rain would comfort him? That she wouldn’t marry and have children of her own?
That maybe they’d have a secret affair one day, sharing the intimate things he now knew they both wanted?
Heat swelled in his chest, but it warred for space with a large block of ice. Daric let out a vile curse. How could he be so selfish? Hadn’t he already ruined Rain’s life once?
He hadn’t realized it before, or so clearly put it into thought, but he’d had it all planned out, to make the future bearable. His future.
Rain had a better option now.
Daric left his chamber in the pre-dawn dark without even a candle, sick at heart but determined to make things better. Rain was used to him waking her up. She wouldn’t be frightened, and he had to tell her he was sorry for being so hard on Aldo, a man who was certainly better for her than a failed, soon-to-be-married prince without a name or a house.
Daric stood outside Rain’s door for a moment, gathering the will to say what he must before lifting his hand and knocking. There was no answer. He nudged the door open, expecting to see her sleeping. Instead, he found a candle burning and an open book upon her neatly made bed.
A mix of fear and anguish hit him in a sickening rush. She’d left. He’d rejected her, and she’d struck out on her own. She’d gone on their last adventure without him.
Daric stalked into the room and shut the door behind him. He didn’t believe for a firesnap that she’d gone to Upper Ash in search of kisses—and certainly not to Lower Ash, which sometimes bordered on dangerous. She’d gone looking for the Barrow Witch.
Had she taken Soren with her? Daric’s chest clenched again hard, and jealousy cut through him, as biting as the winter wind. Soren had been in love with Rain for nearly as long as he had.
Still, with Soren was better than unaccompanied. His father’s personal guard would protect her with his life. Envy aside, Daric hoped that Rain wasn’t alone in the creaking wilderness that surrounded Ash in every direction. She knew how to ride and wield a blade or bow, but her caring nature made her an easy target for anyone trying to take advantage, and as always on cold nights with little moon, the hallerhounds would be out in hungry packs of hunters.
Desperate for any hint as to the direction she might have taken, Daric brought the candle closer to the book and read. The passage she’d left open was about the mighty waterfalls that had once poured down the Cliffs of Alder. The now-dry cascades were said to have protected a nearly inaccessible cavern far up the cliffside that contained a supply of rare bloodstones, a mineral used in breaking curses.
Daric held his breath and continued reading.
The deep-red gemstone takes its name from an arcane legend that whispers of Braylian cutting her finger on the jagged Heights of Alder while placing the gemstone on the continent.
He snapped the book shut. Rain had found the Blood of Braylian.
Daric tucked the old volume under his arm. It could contain other useful information. His mind spun a dozen different scenarios about what Rain had done in the hours since he’d left her. The Heights of Alder were four days northeast on horseback. It was a daunting journey on foot, and she’d never waste time walking when she could ride Arjun.
He checked Rain’s wardrobe. Her heavy cloak and warm boots were gone.
He muttered a curse. Knowing Rain, she’d set a vigorous pace from the start.
Daric hurried to gather provisions. She could be leagues from Ash already, but he had the faster horse. He’d find her, and when he did, he’d give her the tongue-lashing she deserved for leaving without him. He only wished that once she was safe, he could make that tongue-lashing literal.
Rain had never considered herself a coward, but she had to admit, if only to herself, that she was terrified. Hallerhounds howled in the distance, yipping and growling around what was surely their ripped-apart dinner. It was closer to breakfast, but she didn’t think hallerhounds cared when or what they ate—only that the meat was fresh and bloody.
The night was darker than she’d imagined, and the sound of their brawling made her shiver. Eyes usually adjusted to the dimness and then shapes became clearer. Not tonight, with little moon and branches that were thick this deep into the forest, even if they were still leafless.
The wind howled louder than the hounds, and Rain drew her cloak more firmly around her. Spring had come to Leathen, in her way at least, but the air still smelled of her sister, Winter.
And Dawn was taking forever.
Rain had considered taking Soren with her, but she hadn’t wanted to make him choose between abandoning her or abandoning his position. If he was to become her personal guard in less than two moons and for the remainder of their lives in Parr, though, perhaps he would have agreed to start sooner.
But Soren had an irritating way of making her see reason, and she hadn’t wanted to be talked out of leaving without Daric. She’d been too angry and hurt to stop herself, and she hadn’t wanted Soren to stop her, either.
Now, however, with the chill wind in her face, the hallerhounds at her back, and the night all around her, she wished she’d woken Soren. But he sometimes looked at her in a way that was disconcerting. He wasn’t so old, and he was fit and handsome, but she wanted that same look on Daric’s face, and she’d never had it.
Until tonight.
Rain worried her lower lip between her teeth. Daric had looked so torn and desperate. And she’d just left him. Without a word. Without a note. Without anything. That was terrible, in retrospect.
She sighed loudly enough to make Arjun’s ears twitch. At least she’d left the book open to the passage she’d found about the Blood of Braylian. If Daric wanted to, he could join her.
A branch cracked, and Rain stiffened. The sound hadn’t come from overhead but rather from just in front of her. She squinted, watching the narrow roadway, but the first light of day was still weak and gray and scarcely penetrated the darkness.
A figure she could barely see suddenly lunged at her. He waved his arms and shouted, startling Arjun into rearing. Rain kept her balance and lashed out at the man with her whip when he tried to unseat her. He frightened Arjun again, hitting her mount in the face, and the poor animal went nearly vertical.
She might have righted herself, but hands tore at her from behind and dragged her backward. Arjun landed on all fours and shied to the side, leaving Rain in a heap on the ground with two men looming over her. The horse raced down the path in the opposite direction, taking her provisions, extra clothing, sword, and bow and arrows with him.
Rain drew the dagger from her belt and swung her arm up, ramming the hilt into the face of the man behind her. He grunted harshly, and the hands gripping her shoulders loosened. She whipped around, bashing him in the head again with the heavy crosspiece. His eyes rolled up, and he went down, unconscious.
She turned to face the first man again. He leered at her with a rotten-tooth grin that sent a spike of panic through her. Something dangerous and powerful answered the distress inside her. It built beneath her skin, and Rain knew that now was not the time to stop it.
“I like a feisty woman. ’Specially one with pretty silver hair and fine clothing. Who’d’a thunk? Fierce for such a small thing.” His eyes glinted, and it wasn’t too dark to see his malice.
Rain had always kept a tight hold on whatever was left of her former self. That existence was gone, and there was no reason to frighten people with it, even horrible little princesses like Astraea. The magic left in her didn’t water Leathen or make crops grow and prosper, so she’d seen no point in showing it. She didn’t want people to fear her—not when she had to live among them. B
ut this man could use some frightening.
“I am not small.” Rain’s words cracked out of her like lightning. “I am the storm you never saw coming.”
He blinked in surprise. She advanced, and he stepped back.
Rain let magic swell in her veins, magic she barely knew how to wield or control since she never used it. Nevertheless, vines grew down her arms at her bidding, feeding on her own moisture and minerals until she felt prickly with thirst. One sturdy tendril of greenery circled her dagger, waiting. The other grew long, snaking toward the bandit.
He flinched in fear and turned to run, but Rain blew him to his knees with a gale that snarled around them. Trees creaked and leaned. Forest debris rose on violent whirlwinds and eddied into him. Whipped on all sides, he cowered, groveling on the forest path like a beggar before her altar. The good-natured woman she’d been for years stepped aside, making room for something terrifying.
She’d hidden this away, shunning it, but she instinctively knew this powerful being was only a pale version of what she’d been before. In the beginning, for years really, she hadn’t even realized it was still a part of her. And when she did, she hadn’t wanted to alarm Daric, or to be so very different from him. Long before that, she’d already wanted to keep him. Love him. She’d wanted him to love her.
Rain’s head tipped to one side as she contemplated her attacker. She was not innately cruel and would rather nurture life than take it. Spring rain watered. But late frosts also killed new buds with a coating of ice, and sometimes, that was just the way of it.
The bandit shivered as she weighed her options, feeling her magic stretch and grow powerful. It was wild from disuse and aggressive from its sudden unleashing. It pulled her toward a wider perception than that of one person, where the world around her seemed increasingly distant but also more richly layered.
Rain sent a vine to coil around her attacker, loops upon loops to hold him in place while she decided. Life. Death. It was a cycle that never ended.
The man drooped and slumped to his side, motionless. Had her vines been too tight? Or was he simply cold and frightened?
She didn’t know. In the end, she willed the vines out of existence, freeing him. She would leave his fate to Chance, who had once been her companion. The two unconscious brigands could live or die. The day might turn warm and save them. Or stay cold and take them. The hallerhounds might scent easy prey and eat them.
A familiar voice called through the forest, distracting her. Or maybe grounding her. Bringing her back to herself. Hooves pounded, but no threat poked at her suddenly heightened senses. In fact, she felt an overwhelming sense of protectiveness.
Daric.
Rain threw her hood back and let him see the woman he knew, corralling that other part of her. He galloped toward her, handsome and strong and visibly exploding with worry.
Dawn broke fully around them just as he reached her. He held Arjun’s reins in his hand and brought both horses to a mad halt scant steps from her. Daric vaulted to the ground, grabbed her, and crushed her against him. A warm wave tumbled in Rain’s belly. All parts of her leaned into him willingly.
“Are you all right? What happened?” He set her back from him, his frantic gaze darting to the men on the ground before coming back to her.
“I was attacked.”
“Are you injured?” Daric’s hands moved all over her, searching for wounds or wetness or perhaps for protruding daggers.
Rain stopped his anxious probing, holding his hands in front of her. “I’m fine. I fought them off.”
He frowned deeply. “With only a dagger?”
She shrugged. “Daric, I’m fine. Thank you for bringing Arjun.”
“I was terrified when he came galloping down the path without you.” He freed his hands and gripped her face in a hold that was uncharacteristically intimate. He tipped her head from side to side. “I don’t see any bruises. It appears you didn’t need me.”
She would always need him. “I’m glad you’re here,” she whispered thickly.
Daric scowled harder. “I’m furious at you for leaving without me.”
From the look on his face, Rain believed him. “I can only hope your fury lasts as long as usual.”
“I think my anger has already been overcome by terror.” Closing his eyes, Daric leaned his forehead against hers, his breathing still rough and irregular. He never put them this close, and Rain realized that if she moved just a little, just a tilt of her head, she could kiss him. But he’d already refused her once, and she wouldn’t take what he wasn’t offering.
She stepped back, breaking the flustering contact.
Daric opened his eyes. A deep breath shuddered into him. “You figured out Alderbank and the Blood of Braylian.”
Rain nodded. “I found the right book after you left the library, although Alderbank was an unfair clue. There hasn’t been enough water there to make a riverbed in ages—not since long before this drought ever occurred.”
“Why didn’t you wait for me?”
Rain stayed silent. Didn’t he already know?
Daric grimaced, shifting his weight around. “What do we do with them?” He plowed a hand through his hair, his troubled gaze landing on the brigands.
Not that it should matter to their decision, but Rain didn’t think the men were from Leathen. They hadn’t known who she was, and her silver tresses were unusual. “Leave them where they are. I’ve no desire to decide their fate myself.”
If the hard set of his jaw was any indication, Daric thought that sentence was far too lenient. Rain laid a soothing hand on his arm, thinking it was ridiculous that they almost never touched, especially when they’d only ever wanted or needed comfort from each other. Daric’s fist uncurled in increments.
“Their blood should not stain our souls.” And Rain was quite certain they would never again attack a woman. They now understood that powerful and fearsome things lurked beneath the skin of females.
Daric’s nostrils flared, but he eventually nodded. “As you wish.” He turned to gather Arjun’s reins and handed them to her with a flourish. “Your horse, my lady.”
“Thank you, kind sir.” Rain mounted, their silly formality lightening her heavy heart, as she was sure Daric had intended. They’d played this game since they were children.
“Mockweed?” Daric asked hopefully as he slipped her booted foot into the stirrup for her. “Or the Barrow Witch?”
Unfortunately, Rain had no idea. The witch was a mystery, although logic pointed to her perhaps having taken up residence at the barrows in the Wood of Layton, and any mockweed they found at this time of year was sure to be dead and brittle. “My prince, we’ve only just begun this journey.”
And she hoped with all her heart that it would be successful. Despite the increasingly disastrous last quarter century, Leathen was still the home of Braylian’s Cauldron and the coveted heart of the continent, and the Ash family the most ancient and respected of the Houses. It made her sick to think about handing any of that over to Illanna Nighthall.
Daric mounted as well, and together, they rode toward the Heights of Alder to find the Blood of Braylian.
Chapter Six
Despite living a privileged life compared to most, Daric knew hardship and crushing responsibility. Three days later, he decided that nothing had ever been as torturous as bedding down next to Rain each night and not reaching for her. He wanted to bring her into the warmth of his body, breathe in her scent as they slept, and hold her against him.
Oh, for the love of Braylian, he didn’t want to just hold her. He wanted to roll her beneath him and kiss and touch and cover her.
But he would also hold her. He wanted to hold her forever—something he couldn’t do if she was Aldo Lockwood’s wife.
His stomach plummeted, killing his morning arousal.
Rain stirred in her sleep, huffing softly. She wasn’t an easy sleeper—something he hadn’t known. They never shared a room or tent or any quarters that could be consider
ed intimate. They never traveled without guards and an entourage. They hadn’t spent this much time together without anyone interrupting them in years, and never nights in each other’s company. Even now, they’d intended to travel with guards—Soren and a team of warriors. No one, not even him, had meant for them to go on this quest alone.
He did, however, know what Rain looked like when she woke: bleary-eyed, sleep-tousled, rosy-warm, and delightfully provoked. She didn’t enjoy rising early, which seemed ironic for someone who had once embodied spring, but he was always desperate to see her in the mornings, to make sure she hadn’t evaporated during the night, hadn’t turned into mist and left him.
Having her with him day and night was reassuring in that regard.
Rain jerked in her sleep and mumbled something incoherent. Daric reached out a hand and touched her head. She settled instantly.
He wondered if she was dreaming about how she’d once roiled and rolled across the continent, a formidable daughter of Braylian. He saw relatively little of the powerful being from the Cauldron in her, but sometimes lightning flashed in her eyes, and it wasn’t just an expression of temper. He wasn’t sure what it meant, or if she was even aware of it.
That wasn’t the only thing he’d noticed. She didn’t seem to realize that the wind sometimes blew from her, not around her, or that the castle lawn wasn’t still green simply because they were lucky, but because Rain trod upon it.
Unable to stop himself, Daric wound a long strand of Rain’s silver hair around his fist. In the liquid pre-dawn light, it looked more like a waterfall than ever. He let her sleep. They’d been riding hard and had a tiring push ahead of them to get to the Heights of Alder before sundown. He only drew his hand back from her hair when the sun finally rose high enough to wake her.
Rain slowly opened her eyes, squinting and wrinkling her nose. “Ermph.” She rolled over, flopping an arm across her face.
“Good morning to you, too, Raindrop.”
A Curse For Spring Page 4
