Seasons of Sorcery

by Jeffe Kennedy

  “Never asked anything of her?” Daric said in disbelief.

  “Besides that.” His father waved away the defining problem of both Daric’s and Rain’s lives. “And we stopped asking years ago,” he said.

  That didn’t mean that Rain had stopped trying. Or that Daric didn’t see it eating away at her to fail.

  Rain stood like a petrified tree, but Daric knew she was no shrinking flower. She was trying to do her duty, and she would obey the people she cared about, even if it killed her.

  He couldn’t fault her, no matter how much he hated it. Wasn’t he doing the same?

  “Soren will go with you,” his mother told Rain. “He’ll look after you.”

  That awful feeling yanked hard at Daric’s gut again. “Soren? He’s half Aldo’s age and you know he’s—”

  “Enough!” His father brought his fist down hard on the table. “The entire household goes with Rain. We’ve negotiated it with Aldo, and he’ll take everyone from the castle. From cooks, to maids, to guards, to masons. Entire families that live and work here. That’s one-hundred-and-thirty-two people that won’t be starving anymore. And Rain will be surrounded by familiar faces.”

  A small gasp escaped Rain, and Daric knew the argument was over. She would never weigh her own wishes heavily against the welfare of so many people.

  His heart twisted in agony. He’d known he’d lose Rain in a way when he married Astraea, but he’d never imagined losing her entirely. An abyss opened inside him and swallowed every hope he’d secretly held for the future.

  But the sorcerer… If they could just… “We have two moons. Let us find this Barrow Witch.”

  “Out of the question,” his father said. “There is no Barrow Witch.”

  “Because you know all the witches on the continent?” Daric knew that sarcasm was unbecoming in a prince. He was beyond caring.

  His mother looked as though she might argue for his plan, and he turned to her, but it was Rain who spoke before anyone else could.

  “Let us go. If we haven’t found another solution in the time we still have, we’ll return to Ash and do what we must for Leathen.” Rain looked at his parents in turn, and then at him, awaiting confirmation.

  Daric’s lungs seized. Rain had always been beautiful, otherworldly, and fierce in her own way, but right now, she was so stunning and determined that he could barely breathe.

  His father eventually nodded. “Soren will put together a team for you. You can leave when you’re ready.”

  Some of the knots in Daric’s chest unwound until his father proved he was just humoring them. After all, the king hated the future they faced as much as Rain and he did.

  “It takes twelve days to get to Nighthall,” his father said. “Factor that into your travels.”

  In other words, Daric thought bitterly, into their failure.

  Chapter Four

  Rain was many things, but reckless wasn’t one of them. The only thing she’d ever done purely on impulse was dance with a boy, half in the Cauldron and half out, half element and half something more solid, so that he could see her and wouldn’t be frightened by what she truly was.

  What she had been: a deity with power over clouds and sunshine. She’d been the lightning that lashed the treetops as well as the kernels that sprouted into all things green and lush. She’d been whole storms, and she’d been each tiny speck of moisture. She’d run wild across the continent, but she’d kept the land in balance. Or so she’d thought—until Daric showed her otherwise.

  Perhaps it was a blessing that she recalled only the larger picture of her existence as a season. It allowed her to be satisfied with her life in Leathen.

  A life about to end as well.

  Glumly, Rain flipped the pages of another musty old tome looking for mentions of the Barrow Witch, mockweed, Alderbank, or the Blood of Braylian.

  Daric studied another book beside her, untouched mugs of ale and dinner plates in front of them. The candles had burned low and now flickered in a draft, throwing shadows across his face as he read. It was a face she knew better than any other sight, and yet there was something unfamiliar about it now, a hardness that told her Daric was a man who would face his responsibilities, no matter the cost.

  He shoved the book aside and leaned back in his chair, scrubbing a hand over his eyes. “There’s nothing of interest in here unless you want to know how to make a beeswax and ingeroot poultice.”

  “Useful for burns,” Rain murmured.

  “We don’t have burns. We’re facing disgusting marriages—which might be worse.”

  “Aldo Lockwood is kind. I could do worse.”

  Daric scoffed. “You could certainly do better.”

  “Well, no one else is offering.” Rain glanced at him but turned away at the intense anger on his face. The blue of their eyes was nothing alike. Rain’s was much darker. Right now, Daric watched her through chips of glacial ice.

  This wasn’t the man she was used to. He hadn’t seemed half this furious when it was his marriage forced upon the House of Ash.

  “He’s a king. He’s willing to take me and our entire household.”

  “Who wouldn’t take you?” Daric muttered.

  A pinching sensation cinched around Rain’s heart. If only Daric wanted her the way she wanted him. But then… That wouldn’t help either of them at this point.

  “Perhaps we’ll find a solution. We have two moons. And if not… Aldo will be kind,” she repeated.

  “Aldo will likely die of heart failure the moment he sees you naked.”

  “Daric!” He’d never spoken to her like that.

  “At least he’d die happy,” he said under his breath.

  Rain didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, so she went back to the safety of the bland history book in her lap. She had a decent idea about what went on in the marriage bed because she wasn’t stupid and she asked questions. But she’d never even felt another’s lips against hers, because the only person she’d ever wanted was Daric.

  There suddenly seemed to be a great deal wrong with that.

  “I’ve never been kissed,” she announced, closing the book with a snap. Maybe she needed a little impulsiveness in her life. What could it hurt? Everything she knew was about to be destroyed again anyway.

  Daric scowled at her. “Good. No one deserves you.”

  “I’m a twenty-five-year-old virgin about to be married to a man who could be my grandfather.”

  “Of course you’re a virgin. You’re unmarried.”

  Rain rolled her eyes. “Do you honestly believe that every new bride is a virgin?”

  “No. But I believe that you damn well better be.”

  “Are you?”

  He looked shocked by her question. Then his color rose. “No.”

  He didn’t elaborate. Rain felt a corner of her heart wither and die but soldiered on, because she knew what she wanted.

  “Before I marry Aldo, I want to be kissed by a man who is young, vigorous, and attractive.”

  Daric’s face turned to stone. “I’ll be damned if I’m going to let you comb Upper Ash for a man to kiss you.”

  “And I’ll be damned before I let you dictate my actions.” Rain faced Daric’s glower with a boldness born of knowing him better than anyone. He was polite and good, but he’d never let anyone run roughshod over him. Not even her, but that didn’t mean she was intimidated by him. “That said, why would I need to comb Upper Ash for a candidate when I have you right here beside me?”

  He stared at her. His throat bobbed. He looked almost…frightened. “Do you have any idea what you’re asking?”

  Heat coursed through her. “I’m asking for a kiss.”

  He shook his head. “You’re asking to make the years ahead of us even worse.”

  Rain’s eyes widened, and her pulse leaped to a harder beat. Was he saying what she thought he was? “You accepted your betrothal to Astraea, who is truly awful, but you’ve been vulgar and enraged since we found out about me being pro
mised to Aldo. Why?”

  Daric turned away from her. For a moment, she thought he might leave. “Because I can live with my own unhappiness, but I can’t live with yours.”

  Tears stung Rain’s eyes. “Your father is right,” she said gently. “Do you think I’d be any happier at Nighthall, with you married to Astraea and me living in her shadow?”

  Daric’s head snapped around. He looked furious. “You outshine her by far.”

  Rain stood, her chair scraping back. “I don’t know if you say that to be chivalrous and kind, or if you feel something…more. Speak plainly, Daric, or I might go comb Upper Ash after all for a man to do more than just kiss me before Aldo is my only option.”

  Daric stood, too, a head taller than Rain and a good deal wider. He stepped closer, backing her against the table. “You wouldn’t.”

  Rain lifted her chin. No, she wouldn’t. She would never dishonor herself, Aldo, or her family in that way, but Daric couldn’t be sure of that. “Then kiss me yourself,” she demanded.

  “Don’t ask me to do this,” he choked out.

  “Why? Would it be so terrible?”

  “Terrible?” His brows arched in surprise. He lifted a hand. His thumb grazed her jaw, tilting her head back, and Rain’s heart tumbled wildly. Daric’s gaze shifted to the starflower still in her hair before his eyes returned to her face, haunted. “You’re my one and only obsession.”

  Rain drew a sharp breath, the ember of hope inside her catching fire. She touched her hand to his chest. Daric was hard and strong. Aldo would be the opposite.

  “Then kiss me.” Boldly, she slid both hands toward his shoulders. She wanted to touch him, had yearned for this. “For I’m just as obsessed.”

  Heat and hunger blazed across Daric’s expression. Then his face abruptly twisted. “I cannot.” He stepped back.

  Rain froze, hurt pounding through her like the downpours she occasionally dreamed she unleashed upon the kingdom—only to wake and find the land as dry as bone.

  She swallowed, but her voice still shook. “You’re making me feel very foolish, Daric.”

  “I’m the fool.” His bitter tone coated the air between them in frost, just as it had countless times over the course of this dreadful day. “I’m the fool for loving you from the moment I saw you—and wanting you more than my next breath.”

  Blood surged in her veins. Rain reached for him again. Those were the words she’d wanted—needed—for years.

  Daric avoided her, shaking his head. His voice grew thick and hoarse as he said, “You’re beautiful, desirable, strong, and kind. Any man would be lucky to have you even look at him. But I am the Prince of Leathen, and my life is not my own.” He turned away. Daric left and didn’t look back.

  Rain trembled, heartsick. As his footsteps faded, she bit down hard on her lip to keep from sobbing. She’d rather draw blood than shed more tears, although neither would help her, Daric, or the kingdom.

  Chapter Five

  Daric paced his chamber like a caged beast, angry, miserable, and restless. If the palace hadn’t been stripped bare of anything nonessential, he’d have picked up some useless object and thrown it against the wall for the sheer satisfaction of smashing something. He’d needed to fight more violent urges in the last day than he had in his entire lifetime. The desire to rip into something was overwhelming.

  First, it had been his father. Then Rain. Then anything and everything, especially himself.

  They’d been the best of friends forever, and Daric had been madly in love with her since they’d danced at the Cauldron, but he’d never imagined that Rain thought of him as anything other than a brother. It had been different when they were children and easy playmates with mostly innocent thoughts, but for years now, Daric had been careful to keep his distance—physically, at least. Whenever he touched her, even by accident, the longing just grew worse.

  Tonight, he’d wanted to rattle some sense into her. Shake her. Hold her. Consume her.

  He was tormented by thoughts of the kiss he didn’t take, aroused to the point of pain. His heart ached, but so did another part of him, hard and heavy with want.

  Rain’s quick breaths fluttering across his jaw. Her lush mouth. Her eyes drifting closed…

  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.