Daric was relieved to finally reach the horses. It was long after sunset, and he gathered what water he could from the abysmal stream at the base of the Heights of Alder while Rain freed the Cave Witch from her green bindings with only a thought. Now, the irate hag spit curses at them from the cavern entrance—though luckily not in a language that could hex them.
They mounted and departed by tacit agreement, despite the darkness and Rain’s injured shoulder, riding until they were more than a league away and well out of the witch’s purview. The abandoned and near-empty farmhouse they found made a decent shelter. It had three walls and half a roof, in any case.
“It’ll be warmer tomorrow,” Rain said, sniffing the air.
“Tonight is still frigid.” Daric wrapped his extra cloak around her shoulders. They were hours from any town or inn, or he’d have tried to find them better accommodations. That was the thing about sorcerers: they were mysterious, generally unpleasant, and lived in the remotest areas.
He trusted Rain’s instincts, though, especially about the weather. They might wake tomorrow to the first real spring day of the season, if one could call it spring with no moisture.
“I need to tend to your shoulder.” Daric wished he’d been able to do so long before now. He fetched a rickety milking stool from a gloomy corner and set it near the campfire. “Sit.”
Rain looked less than enthusiastic. “It’s fine.”
Daric wasn’t arguing about this. It was happening. “Your blood-encrusted tunic is stuck to the scab, and I’m going to have to cut the material off you. Now sit.”
Rain’s delicate eyebrows swept up in astonishment. “When did you become so overbearing?”
“Amiability is overrated if it means the people you love die of infection,” Daric informed her flatly.
Her mouth puckered as though she might argue, but then she tossed both their cloaks aside and sat, her back to him. “Happy?”
Now, isn’t that a complicated question? “Not entirely.”
After a moment, Rain sighed. “Me either.”
The future returned like a shroud, dark and weighty upon them. It even blocked out the moonlight, forcing Daric to rely solely on the fire he’d built to see what he was doing.
He used his dagger to slice Rain’s tunic down the back and then gently peeled the material away from her shoulder. He tried not to let the sight of her naked back distract him, but her pearlescent skin and the subtle curve of her spine were heady reminders that they were alone and she was partially bared to him.
“Daric?” He heard the hesitation in her voice.
“Yes?” It was torture not to touch her.
“Does it look bad? It doesn’t need to be sewn, does it?”
He cleared his throat before answering. “No. I just need to clean it.”
“Are you unwell?” She frowned at him over her uninjured shoulder. “You sound hoarse. I hope you haven’t caught a chill.”
“Believe me,” he murmured as he carefully tugged the last bit of tunic loose from the scab. “I’m excessively hot.”
Rain slipped her arms free from the sagging tunic but held the ruined garment in front of her. “I’m cold.” She shivered when he brushed her hair aside.
“This will warm you.” With a stick, Daric reached for the cloth he’d put into boiling water. He let it cool for a moment before wringing out the excess and then gently pressing the steaming material against Rain’s injury.
She moaned a little. “That does feel good.”
Daric was incapable of responding. He renewed the cloth and finished cleaning her shoulder.
“You’re good at this,” Rain said. “Do you have experience as a healer that I don’t know about?”
“Unfortunately, no. I’m using what I hope is good sense.”
“This is one of those moments when you should have reassured me with a small falsehood,” she teased.
“I’m reserving my wicked untruth for this.”
“For what?” she asked.
Daric uncorked the small flask of spirits he’d brought out of precaution. He never drank the stuff, but he knew how the shrewdest of healers used it to prevent infection. He soaked a clean cloth with the strong-smelling liquid and then took a deep breath, steeling himself.
“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 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.”