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 promised 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.