“This won’t hurt at all,” he lied, pressing the cloth to the slice across Rain’s shoulder.
Rain screeched. Daric winced but held on to her other shoulder to keep her steady. An owl hooted in the distance.
She finally let out a slow breath, relaxing her tense back. Daric removed the cloth. The injury bled only minimally, not flowing but rather forming a new scab.
“It’ll be difficult to bind,” he said, inspecting the long but shallow cut.
“Just let it dry. I can hardly feel it.” Rain gathered the cloaks and arranged them in front of her.
“Turn your back to the fire, then. To warm it,” Daric suggested.
Rain nodded and turned. Daric stood beside her in silence.
“You’re awfully quiet,” she eventually said.
That was because every instinct that railed at him was physical. Hold her. Touch her. Kiss her. Raw desire speared him. He didn’t want to talk.
To focus on something other than Rain’s bare skin by firelight, Daric began making camp for the night. The horses were already corralled in the farmyard. He laid out bedrolls and blankets. Food was next. He handed Rain bread, cheese, a small pouch of dried fruit, and a little weak tea, brewed right in their cups.
The distraction hardly worked. The need he felt for Rain consumed him. His desire had always been on a tight leash and buried under the truest of friendships. These past days had snapped the leash and unearthed the truth. He wanted her in every way possible. Forever.
But if he made her truly his only to lose her…
He didn’t know how he could go on.
He already didn’t know how to face a future without her. Everything had changed the moment his father had announced her engagement to Aldo Lockwood. Daric’s engagement to Astraea was repugnant, but he’d stupidly believed it would hardly come between Rain and him. Astraea didn’t signify in his heart. Rain would have stayed with him. They would have continued as usual.
What an ass he’d been.
“Stop staring at me, Daric.”
He blinked and turned away. “Of course.” He left to collect more firewood.
The heat in Daric’s eyes could have started a forest fire. Rain took a deep breath. Then another. It took three to settle her racing heart. As soon as he disappeared around the corner, she gently probed her injury to make sure it was dry, pulled on a clean tunic, and then settled her cloak back around her. She returned to her seat by the fire, waiting for Daric, her thoughts in turmoil.
If she’d beckoned to him just then instead of sending him outside, would he have come to her? She wanted him more than anything, and in all ways, but he was right: they weren’t free, and duty was a heavy burden.
Before, the obligations had been all Daric’s. Now, responsibility was hers as well. She would soon be the last Ash, honor bound by fifteen years of love and obedience to carry on a name that was only hers because the king and queen had declared it.
King Wilder could be heavy-handed, but he was a good man governed by fair principles. He was correct to say that Daric was selfish to want to keep Rain with him when she could have a better life in Parr with Aldo Lockwood. A husband. A kingdom. Safety. Her own children. Kindness and possibly even affection.
But she was also selfish, because she wanted to stay with Daric.
Only the thought of saving their entire household and a contingent of soldiers from losing their livelihoods and positions made her hesitate.
Rain squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the feelings that battered her. Life had been much less complicated before emotion played a role in it.
She hardly remembered that time in her existence. It was vague and shapeless, too vast for what she was now, leaving her with only fragments of memories—impressions more than anything—and piddling power she innately knew was laughable compared to the might and ferocity of a season.
Daric eventually returned with enough wood to keep them warm all night. He stacked it near the fire and then sat across from her.
“Why did you name me Rain?” she asked, watching him over the flames that danced between them.
“Why?” He frowned at her. “Do you hate it?”
“Not at all. I think it fits, all things considered.”
Some of the new sticks must have been highly resinous or else damp from the patches of snow outside. The campfire popped and hissed before he answered. “At first, everyone kept asking you to make it rain. Rain. Rain. They said it over and over, like a chant. Or a supplication.” He lowered his gaze and stirred the fire. “It began to sound like a name to me, and you didn’t really have one.”
“I was Spring,” she said.
“That’s not truly a name, either.”
Rain thought about it. No, it was a thing. She’d been an entity, not a person. “I prefer Rain, anyway. It’s far prettier.”
Daric smiled, but his eyes remained on the fire. Stir. Poke. Why wouldn’t he look at her?
“How’s your shoulder?” he asked after a while.
“It’s not bothering me. You must be a good healer.”
“It’s all in the inventive use of strong spirits,” he said, although his joke sounded halfhearted.
“Better than drinking it,” Rain answered. “We might lose our inhibitions.”
He finally looked up, his eyes a scorching mix of smoke and fire. Hotter than the blaze between them. “Are you shy around me, Rain?”
A honey-like warmth spread through her. “I find I am more so now than I was only a handful of days ago.”
Daric’s lips parted. His eyes glittered, and he looked ready to leap across the fire and devour her.
Rain’s insides swooped and fluttered. “What’s our next move?” she asked, abruptly changing the subject. The direction the conversation was taking wouldn’t help either of them. “Mockweed? The Barrow Witch?”
Daric studied her a moment longer, utterly still and concentrated, then he tossed the stick he’d been holding into the fire. “Mockweed grows in the Wood of Layton—in summertime, anyway. Any barrows we have in Leathen are also there, not far from Braylian’s Cauldron.”
“Then we should go west to Layton,” Rain said.
Daric nodded. “And hope we find the Barrow Witch—and that she doesn’t curse us.” The hot, possessive spark still in his eyes made her belly twist with something raw and carnal and overshadowed his attempt at dry humor.
“What will you do?” Her voice grew husky, some inner beast roaring at her to move the ground and sky to keep Daric. “If we succeed in breaking the curse on Leathen?”
“What will I do?” He smiled a little, just the edges of his mouth curling up as his blue eyes brushed over her, soft but heavy like velvet. Then need sharpened his features, and Rain shivered before he even answered. “If you’re willing, I’ll kiss you until you can’t breathe, learn you inside and out, and make you mine forever.”
Chapter Ten
Rain was a tightly wound-up ball of nerves and desire by the time they reached the Wood of Layton. Prolonged time alone with Daric was wreaking havoc on her body. How was it possible to physically ache for something she’d never known? Intense sensations leaped inside her like cloud-to-cloud lightning, shooting bolts of heat and longing through her with nothing to ground them.
The sacred forest creaked and groaned as usual, matching her stiffness after too many days on Arjun as well as her brittle mood. Daric showed signs of irritability also, and they snapped at each other occasionally only to converse easily again moments later.
Their new dynamic felt more natural than the courteous and sometimes careful way they’d always interacted. That had been real, too, but with a varnish that had kept them shiny and bright in each other’s eyes. She preferred the Daric she saw every day, all day—the Daric difficult circumstances and this journey had revealed. He was still everything she wanted, but Rain had discovered sharp edges that made him even more appealing. And when Daric looked at her now, his jaw often set at a hard angle and his pe
netrating gaze not hiding the force of his desire, Rain could barely catch her breath and wanted only one thing: for him to touch her.
“We’re deep enough into the woods to find some mockweed now. You know what it looks like, right?” Daric asked.
He glanced at her, but his eyes didn’t linger. They were sweeping the forest for threats. Many of Leathen’s wild animals had retreated to the Wood of Layton over the years of drought, and even the well-trod paths had turned dangerous.
Rain nodded, shaking off her daydreams—although anxious and alert felt like poor replacements. “It grows low to the ground and has puffy yellow flowers that make me sneeze in summer. But we’ll only find last year’s dead plants. It hasn’t bloomed again yet.”
Despite the curse, things did grow in Leathen. Three seasons provided their habitual weather, and plants and forests and farms hung on, surviving in the way of the gradually starving.
“The flowers are seasonal, but the leaves don’t wither. The rest of the plant winters over.”
Rain was surprised. Who knew Daric was such a botanist? “Do you suppose it will matter if there’s no flower?” she asked.
“Your disappearing sorcerer said mockweed not mockweed flower,” Daric said with a shrug.
Rain frowned, trying to recall exactly. “He didn’t have time to elaborate. Two guards had him, and Soren was snarling.”
Daric’s gaze swung around sharply. “Did Soren follow you?”
She shook her head. “He said he was on an errand.”
Brittleness crept into Daric’s expression. “He’s in love with you.”
“Soren?” Rain tried to muster up some shock, but deep down, she knew that already. The only real surprise was that Daric had mentioned it. “Does that bother you?”
“It does if he goes with you to Parr,” Daric bit out.
“If I go to Parr, I’ll be married to Aldo, and I would never be unfaithful.”
A dark laugh escaped Daric. “Aldo will be dead soon, and Soren still has years of vigor in him.”
Rain tried to let what he was implying slide right off her, but she couldn’t entirely. It stuck. Soren wasn’t the man she wanted, but he wouldn’t be a terrible alternative if Daric were truly lost to her. “If you’re forced to marry Astraea, would you be unfaithful to her?”
Daric’s eyes flared with barely suppressed anger and enough need to make her blood run hot. “In a heartbeat—if I have you to comfort me.”
His words shot like an arrow to the space between her legs. Rain’s muscles clenched. Before she lost her courage, she notched up her chin and asked, “What’s to stop us from starting now?” She knew she should go to Aldo a virgin, but she didn’t always do as she ought.
Daric’s face turned blank with shock, then his color heightened significantly. He stared at her, and Rain waited for his answer, her heart banging against her ribs.
Daric thought he might die of heat and want and frustration and fury. What’s to stop us from starting now? She acted as though that were a simple question.
Rain wasn’t asking for a kiss anymore, although a kiss wouldn’t have been anything close to simple between them, either. She was asking to start something much bigger, much more consuming, and with consequences that stretched from one edge of the continent to the other.
In a voice gone thick and hoarse, Daric finally managed to answer. “I can find a way to go forward, Rain. But I could never go back.”
Rain visibly swallowed. She nodded and turned back to the path, her fingers tensing on Arjun’s reins until they whitened.
Before Daric could think of a more neutral topic to distract them both back to better spirits, a stiff breeze began to blow, making his mount, Wylar, dance and quiver. The wind didn’t abate, turning colder and more violent and forcing them to tug their cloaks firmly closed and pull up their hoods for protection.
“The weather is fickle,” Daric said. “This morning was pleasant.”
“We’re subjected to whatever’s strongest around us,” Rain answered. “If the north wind blows hard, we get the colder, more volatile air from Raana. If the weather to the south is powerful and enduring, we get whatever comes up from Parr.”
As usual, Spring didn’t even know Leathen was there, leaving an empty hole to fill with whatever pushed the hardest.
Daric glanced at the cloudless sky. The wind whistled a dismal song through the leafless branches. “Do you remember that darkness? That void where Leathen should have been?”
“Vaguely,” Rain said, hunching inward. “I don’t know why Braylian let it happen. She’s there, all-knowing. The seasons… We couldn’t confer with one another or compare knowledge of the continent. I didn’t have a voice, or even know how to form words, until I decided to speak to you, and while one daughter is active, the other three are dormant.”
Daric fell silent, an unpleasant twinge stabbing at him. It was guilt, but not regret, exactly. The combination chafed. He couldn’t be happy he’d altered Rain’s existence so drastically, but he also wouldn’t change what had happened.
Now, he might lose her anyway. The thought hollowed him out and left him empty.
Daric leaned over and gripped Arjun’s reins when a gust of wind upset the horse. “Should we stop and find shelter?” he asked, having to raise his voice above the gale that was only worsening.
Rain nodded, and Daric dismounted. He led both horses toward a rocky outcropping that would at least block the wind that was howling down the path straight at them.
That howling? Daric frowned. Was it only the wind?
Rain’s head snapped up. “Hallerhounds!” Her eyes widened.
Daric started to jog, leading them faster toward the minimal shelter he’d spotted. At least they’d have one less side to protect from wild animals.
The howling grew louder, as did the sound of heavy paws crashing through the forest.
“Hurry, Daric!” Still astride Arjun, Rain drew her bow and nocked an arrow.
Daric raced through the undergrowth with Rain and the two horses. He swung their mounts around at the rock formation, crowding the frightened animals against it. “How many? Can you see?” he asked as Rain dismounted.
“Nine. Maybe ten.” Her bow in hand, she placed herself in front of Arjun and Wylar. Daric did the same, drawing his sword and dagger.
The outcropping blocked the worst of the wind, but it still whipped and tore at them. They stood together, Rain already narrowing her eyes down the length of an arrow. Daric didn’t do anything asinine such as demand that Rain get behind him. They were days beyond that. He was glad Rain was done pretending to be less than she could be.
The pack of huge, dog-like creatures approached and surrounded them on three sides, their razor-sharp claws clicking on the roots and rocks of the forest. The animals inched nearer, their ruffs rising. Rain released an arrow, bringing down the one closest to her, and chaos erupted.
A hallerhound leaped at them. Daric swung hard enough to nearly cleave the beast in half, his every instinct sharpening into one fierce thought: protect the woman next to him. With a twang of her bow, Rain felled another. Daric swung again, severing a jugular. Blood sprayed, its coppery tang a bitter perfume in the air around them. Whimpers, snarls, and growls mixed with his own grunts, pounding breath, and hammering heartbeat. Utterly calm and silent beside him, Rain loosed another arrow. In this storm, she was the eye and he was the maelstrom. With a snarl to rival the hallerhounds’ growls, Daric focused on the next threat, his sword arm a blur and his knife at the ready.
The animal onslaught was brutal and continuous, but they fought back with equal ferocity. Rain lashed out with a vine, knocking a massive creature off balance. Daric lunged forward and skewered it with his dagger. Rain let fly another arrow. Shoulder to shoulder, they guarded their horses—and each other.
At last, only two hounds remained, crouched low and baring their teeth, but now hesitant. Rain incapacitated one with a rope of greenery that tied its legs together. It collapsed, j
erking and twisting in a violent effort to break free. It was no use and the animal surrendered, its flanks heaving.
That left a single adversary. Daric sliced his bloody sword through the air with whistling menace. The final beast’s ears flattened. It hugged the ground, cowering.
With a beckoning yip toward its immobilized companion, the last hound ran away. Rain slowly unraveled the vine from the hallerhound on the ground, her expression so hard and deadly that the animal knew exactly who ruled the forest.
The creature scrambled upright and bounded after its fleeing packmate, disappearing into the woods in near silence.
Chapter Eleven
The ferocious wind finally calmed enough for them to leave the protection of the rocky outcropping and head toward more substantial shelter. Shadows stretched longer, creeping in with the chill of evening. The forest grew dimmer, its habitual creaking keeping Rain on edge as she and Daric made their way to the nearest treehouse.
Hallerhounds had terrorized people for centuries. Long ago, generations before Daric, the House of Ash had built elevated shelters throughout the Wood of Layton. The regularly placed treehouses protected the royals and their entourages from animal attacks at night during their pilgrimages to Braylian’s Cauldron. The mostly unfurnished rooms saw no regular upkeep and were often home to small creatures, but they were always stocked with blankets and oil lamps, and there would be a nearby enclosure for the horses.
It wasn’t the thought of more hallerhounds that scared Rain right now, however. Each time she used her power, with every new vine she created, Isme dolunde vaten crew dug into her mind a little deeper. She’d already feared its roots were poisonous, but as she and Daric rode toward the treehouse that would be their last stopover before Leathen’s barrows and Braylian’s Cauldron, she finally understood what the combination of sounds truly meant—and how just four small words would destroy them.
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