Seasons of Sorcery

by Jeffe Kennedy

  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 gaze 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 always 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 penetrating 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 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, jerking 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 shelter 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.

  The sorcerer in Upper Ash had given her the final ingredient to break the curse on Leathen, but it wasn’t a simple offering they had to make, as she’d originally suspected. It was a sacrifice. And whoever spoke the words to Braylian both gained exactly what they wanted, and lost what mattered most.

  “What’s turned you so silent?” Daric asked as they approached the treehouse.

  These past few nights in the sacred wood, they’d had somewhere more comfortable than the ground to sleep and more than a campfire to drive back the darkness. But they’d stayed in separate rooms, across a massive tree trunk from each other. Tonight, their last night before this quest likely ended, Rain would make sure they slept together.

  “I’ve just realized something.” She turned to Daric, his beloved features harder to look at suddenly. They burned through her, searing a scar across her heart. Winter-blue eyes, strong jaw, thick dark hair, that heavy lock always tumbling over one eyebrow. The way he looked at her… Rain dropped her gaze, trying to hide her sorrow.

  “Mockweed.” She grew a plant in the palm of her hand. “No need to go searching.”

  Daric grinned. “You never cease to amaze me.”

  She handed him the flower, not letting her return smile waver. “Keep it with the bloodstones. Tomorrow, we’ll find the Barrow Witch and break the curse together.”

  “It seems rather simple in the end, after all these years of doing nothing.”

  “Not nothing, Daric. Everything we could. And we only just received the clues pointing us in the right direction.” Rain forced now dreaded words around the rising lump in her throat. “There’s one more thing. A chant. I heard it from the sorcerer.”

  Daric’s brow furrowed. “In Upper Ash?”

  She nodded. “I kept it to myself because I didn’t understand it.”

  “And now you do? How? What is it?”

  Rain saw the confusion in his expression—and the hurt that she’d once again held back from him. “Isme dolunde vaten crew.” Her heart ached, pounding. “The more I use my power, the more I understand the language of sorcery.”

  Daric’s frown deepened. “What does it mean?”

  “It’s simply to formally present the bloodstones and the mockweed to Braylian.” The lie rose up in Rain and fell from her tongue like acid. “Harmless, but we need it along with the other things when we ask her to break the enchantment.”

  Daric tucked the plant she’d given him into his pouch, seeming less worried after her explanation. “Not sure why a goddess wants a weed, but magic is a strange business.”

  “It is,” Rain agreed. One that was tearing her apart, even as it made her stronger. “We’ll find the Barrow Witch. She’ll help us. You’ll say those four words tomorrow, Daric, and break the curse on Leathen. You’ve been working toward this your whole life.”

  He nodded, repeating those raw and awful magical words back to her. He knew them now and could utter them without trouble.

  A shadow crossed his features again as he watched her. “You look too somber for this happy news. We’re almost there, Rain. We’ve almost done it.”

  Somber didn’t even begin to describe how she felt. Understanding the sorcerer’s words had opened a chasm inside her and set her adrift. But Leathen would survive without her. The kingdom couldn’t survive without its prince.

  That conviction calmed her, left her resolute and sure of herself. “I want you to know that I would never, ever, have shown myself to you that day at the Cauldron if I hadn’t wanted to,” Rain said.

  Daric shrugged a little stiffly. “But you didn’t want this.” He waved a hand in the air, seeming to encompass him, her, Leathen… Everything.

  She thought back to that Time Before. Want hadn’t been a concept for a season, as far as she could recall. What a boring existence it must have been, with no one to talk to, nothing to discover, no desires or needs, no fears or pleasures.

  “The first time I remember wanting anything,” sh
e told him in a voice thick with emotion, “was the day I saw you.”

  Daric looked at her gravely. He reached out, feathered his fingers across her cheek, and tucked her hair back. “You’re my every dream and desire.”

  Rain’s heart swelled to near bursting. She was done waiting. Done hoping. Done playing by Daric’s rules, because his weren’t the only ones that mattered. “Tomorrow, we save Leathen, but tonight is ours.”

  His eyes turned wary—and burning. “Raindrop?”

  “You secure the horses.” Rain slid from her saddle in front of the treehouse. “I’ll light the lamps in the room we’re sharing.”

  When Daric entered the room she’d chosen for the night, Rain had an almost worrying glint in her eyes and wore an expression that barely sidestepped aggressive.

  She held out her hand to him. Daric took it, and she tugged him closer.

  Her silver hair was down, cascading around her shoulders like a river. She’d even removed the starflower, which she’d worn every day and night of their journey. Her eyes flicked up, meeting his, and they were like dusk, both dark blue and on fire. A knot tightened in his chest. He loved her more than anything.

  She unclasped his cloak and began loosening the laces of his tunic.

  “Rain?” Daric’s mouth went dry, and his voice croaked like a lad’s. He ached from the need to touch her.

  “I’m counting on you to guide us, Daric. I mean… I understand the basics.”

  His pulse pounded, heavy with desire. There were four walls. A bed. Privacy, even from the stars above them. And Rain was making herself perfectly clear.

  He couldn’t resist smoothing his hands into her hair and weaving the silken strands between his fingers. “We have to break the curse first. We’ll be each other’s reward for saving Leathen.”

  “Right now, Daric, I need you more than Leathen does.”