Seasons of Sorcery

by Jeffe Kennedy

  She sighed loudly enough to make Arjun’s ears twitch. At least she’d left the book open to the passage she’d found about the Blood of Braylian. If Daric wanted to, he could join her.

  A branch cracked, and Rain stiffened. The sound hadn’t come from overhead but rather from just in front of her. She squinted, watching the narrow roadway, but the first light of day was still weak and gray and scarcely penetrated the darkness.

  A figure she could barely see suddenly lunged at her. He waved his arms and shouted, startling Arjun into rearing. Rain kept her balance and lashed out at the man with her whip when he tried to unseat her. He frightened Arjun again, hitting her mount in the face, and the poor animal went nearly vertical.

  She might have righted herself, but hands tore at her from behind and dragged her backward. Arjun landed on all fours and shied to the side, leaving Rain in a heap on the ground with two men looming over her. The horse raced down the path in the opposite direction, taking her provisions, extra clothing, sword, and bow and arrows with him.

  Rain drew the dagger from her belt and swung her arm up, ramming the hilt into the face of the man behind her. He grunted harshly, and the hands gripping her shoulders loosened. She whipped around, bashing him in the head again with the heavy crosspiece. His eyes rolled up, and he went down, unconscious.

  She turned to face the first man again. He leered at her with a rotten-tooth grin that sent a spike of panic through her. Something dangerous and powerful answered the distress inside her. It built beneath her skin, and Rain knew that now was not the time to stop it.

  “I like a feisty woman, ’specially one with pretty silver hair and fine clothing. Who’d’a thunk? Fierce for such a small thing.” His eyes glinted and it wasn’t too dark to see his malice.

  Rain had always kept a tight hold on whatever was left of her former self. That existence was gone, and there was no reason to frighten people with it, even horrible little princesses like Astraea. The magic left in her didn’t water Leathen or make crops grow and prosper, so she’d seen no point in showing it. She didn’t want people to fear her—not when she had to live among them. But this man could use some frightening.

  “I am not small.” Rain’s words cracked out of her like lightning. “I am the storm you never saw coming.”

  He blinked in surprise. She advanced, and he stepped back.

  Rain let magic swell in her veins, magic she barely knew how to wield or control since she never used it. Nevertheless, vines grew down her arms at her bidding, feeding on her own moisture and minerals until she felt prickly with thirst. One sturdy tendril of greenery circled her dagger, waiting. The other grew long, snaking toward the bandit.

  He flinched in fear and turned to run, but Rain blew him to his knees with a gale that snarled around them. Trees creaked and leaned. Forest debris rose on violent whirlwinds and eddied into him. Whipped on all sides, he cowered, groveling on the forest path like a beggar before her altar. The good-natured woman she’d been for years stepped aside, making room for something terrifying.

  She’d hidden this away, shunning it, but she instinctively knew this powerful being was only a pale version of what she’d been before. In the beginning, for years really, she hadn’t even realized it was still a part of her. And when she did, she hadn’t wanted to alarm Daric, or to be so very different from him. Long before that, she’d already wanted to keep him. Love him. She’d wanted him to love her.

  Rain’s head tipped to one side as she contemplated her attacker. She was not innately cruel and would rather nurture life than take it. Spring rain watered. But late frosts also killed new buds with a coating of ice, and sometimes, that was just the way of it.

  The bandit shivered as she weighed her options, feeling her magic stretch and grow powerful. It was wild from disuse and aggressive from its sudden unleashing. It pulled her toward a wider perception than that of one person, where the world around her seemed increasingly distant but also more richly layered.

  Rain sent a vine to coil around her attacker, loops upon loops to hold him in place while she decided. Life. Death. It was a cycle that never ended.

  The man drooped and slumped to his side, motionless. Had her vines been too tight? Or was he simply cold and frightened?

  She didn’t know. In the end, she willed the vines out of existence, freeing him. She would leave his fate to Chance, who had once been her companion. The two unconscious brigands could live or die. The day might turn warm and save them. Or stay cold and take them. The hallerhounds might scent easy prey and eat them.

  A familiar voice called through the forest, distracting her. Or maybe grounding her. Bringing her back to herself. Hooves pounded, but no threat poked at her suddenly heightened senses. In fact, she felt an overwhelming sense of protectiveness.

  Daric.

  Rain threw her hood back and let him see the woman he knew, corralling that other part of her. He galloped toward her, handsome and strong and visibly exploding with worry.

  Dawn broke fully around them just as he reached her. He held Arjun’s reins in his hand and brought both horses to a mad halt scant steps from her. Daric vaulted to the ground, grabbed her, and crushed her against him. A warm wave tumbled in Rain’s belly. All parts of her leaned into him willingly.

  “Are you all right? What happened?” He set her back from him, his frantic gaze darting to the men on the ground before coming back to her.

  “I was attacked.”

  “Are you injured?” Daric’s hands moved all over her, searching for wounds or wetness or perhaps for protruding daggers.

  Rain stopped his anxious probing, holding his hands in front of her. “I’m fine. I fought them off.”

  He frowned deeply. “With only a dagger?”

  She shrugged. “Daric, I’m fine. Thank you for bringing Arjun.”

  “I was terrified when he came galloping down the path without you.” He freed his hands and gripped her face in a hold that was uncharacteristically intimate. He tipped her head from side to side. “I don’t see any bruises. It appears you didn’t need me.”

  She would always need him. “I’m glad you’re here,” she whispered thickly.

  Daric scowled harder. “I’m furious at you for leaving without me.”

  From the look on his face, Rain believed him. “I can only hope your fury lasts as long as usual.”

  “I think my anger has already been overcome by terror.” Closing his eyes, Daric leaned his forehead against hers, his breathing still rough and irregular. He never put them this close, and Rain realized that if she moved just a little, just a tilt of her head, she could kiss him. But he’d already refused her once, and she wouldn’t take what he wasn’t offering.

  She stepped back, breaking the flustering contact.

  Daric opened his eyes. A deep breath shuddered into him. “You figured out Alderbank and the Blood of Braylian.”

  Rain nodded. “I found the right book after you left the library, although Alderbank was an unfair clue. There hasn’t been enough water there to make a riverbed in ages—not since long before this drought ever occurred.”

  “Why didn’t you wait for me?”

  Rain stayed silent. Didn’t he already know?

  Daric grimaced. His weight shifted. “What do we do with them?” He plowed a hand through his hair, his troubled gaze landing on the brigands.

  Not that it should matter to their decision, but Rain didn’t think the men were from Leathen. They hadn’t known who she was, and her silver tresses were unusual. “Leave them where they are. I’ve no desire to decide their fate myself.”

  If the hard set of his jaw was any indication, Daric thought that sentence was far too lenient. Rain laid a soothing hand on his arm, thinking it was ridiculous that they almost never touched, especially when they’d only ever wanted or needed comfort from each other. Daric’s fist uncurled in increments.

  “Their blood should not stain our souls.” And Rain was quite certain they would never again attack a woman. T
hey now understood that powerful and fearsome things lurked beneath the skin of females.

  Daric’s nostrils flared, but he eventually nodded. “As you wish.” He turned to gather Arjun’s reins and handed them to her with a flourish. “Your horse, my lady.”

  “Thank you, kind sir.” Rain mounted, their silly formality lightening her heavy heart, as she was sure Daric had intended. They’d played this game since they were children.

  “Mockweed?” Daric asked hopefully as he slipped her booted foot into the stirrup for her. “Or the Barrow Witch?”

  Unfortunately, Rain had no idea. The witch was a mystery, although logic pointed to her perhaps having taken up residence at the barrows in the Wood of Layton, and any mockweed they found at this time of year was sure to be dead and brittle. “My prince, we’ve only just begun this journey.”

  And she hoped with all her heart that it would be successful. Despite the increasingly disastrous last quarter century, Leathen was still the home of Braylian’s Cauldron and the coveted heart of the continent, and the Ash family the most ancient and respected of the Houses. It made her sick to think about handing any of that over to Illanna Nighthall.

  Daric mounted as well, and together, they rode toward the Heights of Alder to find the Blood of Braylian.

  Chapter Six

  Despite living a privileged life compared to most, Daric knew hardship and crushing responsibility. Three days later, he decided that nothing had ever been as torturous as bedding down next to Rain each night and not reaching for her. He wanted to bring her into the warmth of his body, breathe in her scent as they slept, and hold her against him.

  Oh, for the love of Braylian, he didn’t want to just hold her. He wanted to roll her beneath him and kiss and touch and cover her.

  But he would also hold her. He wanted to hold her forever—something he couldn’t do if she was Aldo Lockwood’s wife.

  His stomach plummeted, killing his morning arousal.

  Rain stirred in her sleep, huffing softly. She wasn’t an easy sleeper—something he hadn’t known. They never shared a room or tent or any quarters that could be considered intimate. They never traveled without guards and an entourage. They hadn’t spent this much time together without anyone interrupting them in years, and never nights in each other’s company. Even now, they’d intended to travel with guards—Soren and a team of warriors. No one, not even him, had meant for them to go on this quest alone.

  He did, however, know what Rain looked like when she woke: bleary-eyed, sleep-tousled, rosy-warm, and delightfully provoked. She didn’t enjoy rising early, which seemed ironic for someone who had once embodied spring, but he was always desperate to see her in the mornings, to make sure she hadn’t evaporated during the night, hadn’t turned into mist and left him.

  Having her with him day and night was reassuring in that regard.

  Rain jerked in her sleep and mumbled something incoherent. Daric reached out a hand and touched her head. She settled instantly.

  He wondered if she was dreaming about how she’d once roiled and rolled across the continent, a formidable daughter of Braylian. He saw relatively little of the powerful being from the Cauldron in her, but sometimes lightning flashed in her eyes, and it wasn’t just an expression of temper. He wasn’t sure what it meant, or if she was even aware of it.

  That wasn’t the only thing he’d noticed. She didn’t seem to realize that the wind sometimes blew from her, not around her, or that the castle lawn wasn’t still green simply because they were lucky, but because Rain trod upon it.

  Unable to stop himself, Daric wound a long strand of Rain’s silver hair around his fist. In the liquid pre-dawn light, it looked more like a waterfall than ever. He let her sleep. They’d been riding hard and had a tiring push ahead of them to get to the Heights of Alder before sundown. He only drew his hand back from her hair when the sun finally rose high enough to wake her.

  Rain slowly opened her eyes, squinting and wrinkling her nose. “Ermph.” She rolled over, flopping an arm across her face.

  “Good morning to you, too, Raindrop.”

  “What’s good about it?” she grumbled. “I’m cold and stiff and—”

  “As grumpy as ever?” Daric finished for her.

  She sat up and scowled at him. “There’s no reason to be so annoyingly chipper.”

  “I’m with you,” Daric said simply. “Why wouldn’t I be happy?”

  She flushed bright pink, which delighted him more than it should have, considering they were both betrothed to other people.

  Rain rummaged in her pack for a comb while he prepared their meal. She braided her hair and then wound it around her head like a crown, securing it with pins. As a finishing touch, she added the starflower.

  Satisfaction welled inside him along with something frankly proprietary. Rain’s daring request for a kiss—coming right on the heels of learning she was betrothed to Aldo—had unleashed something primitive in him that made him want to howl and curse and never let her out of his sight again.

  It made him want to abandon his duty.

  To resist hauling her into his arms, Daric handed Rain her breakfast. Her smile seemed shyer than usual and struck him in the chest. Was it truly possible to fix their problems without having to lose each other, Leathen, or anything else?

  “When you look at me that way…” Rain’s voice faded to a mere whisper. “I feel much warmer than this frigid morning should permit.”

  Pressure clamped around Daric’s heart. The need to reach for her was a physical ache. In a cavern-deep rasp, he asked, “In what way is that?”

  The flick of her eyes over him was like a warm brush of lips. “Like we shouldn’t be dressing right now, but rather undressing instead.”

  Heat blazed through him, and his groin tightened fast.

  Her suddenly roguish grin almost had him groaning out loud. “I believe I’ve shocked you, Daric. But if now’s not the time for boldness, I’m not sure when is.”

  He swallowed hard. “I adore when you shock me. I’d have you shock me silly for the rest of my life.”

  “Really?” She sounded surprised.

  “How could you doubt?”

  “I know you’d keep your companion if you could.” She shrugged. “I’m sure of that.”

  His brows collided in a frown. “You’re more than my companion, Rain.”

  “Yet you refused to kiss me.”

  The thought of learning her mouth with his tortured him relentlessly. “If I kiss you,” he said, his eyes riveted to her lips, “I’ll never stop.”

  They packed up and rode out with Rain in a restless mood. She’d always had some trouble understanding human emotion. Hers was human enough now as well, but she still felt as though she were learning, just as she’d had to learn to read and write, bow and dance, refrain from snapping others like twigs once she’d discovered she still could, and do all the things people did but that seasons did not.

  Daric often defied her understanding, which made him even more appealing—and exasperating.

  He wanted but wouldn’t take. He longed but wouldn’t act. He looked but wouldn’t touch. It was frustrating, infuriating, body-heating…

  Rain blew out a tense breath, wishing Arjun’s rolling gait would soothe her as it often did. Nothing took the edge off her body or her thoughts. Things had certainly been easier before her betrothal had prompted her to show her true feelings to Daric—and revealed Daric’s in return. Knowing the desire was shared only made the craving worse, but she also wouldn’t trade the heady storm of sensations brewing inside her for anything. Liquid fire described it best.

  Rain knew what would satisfy her—satisfy them both. Unfortunately, her prince was not cooperating.

  She bit down on her lower lip, nibbling it between her teeth until it felt sore and swollen. She supposed she wouldn’t love him half as much if he had no respect or honor.

  “Finally.” Daric heaved a sigh from beside her when they turned a bend in the road and saw the
Heights of Alder.

  The cliffs didn’t roar with water as Rain knew they once had at the dawn of the continent, and the riverbed was mostly a dusty basin, but the ancient cascades still existed in the form of a glistening film that filtered down the imposing cliffside, leaving the craggy surface slick and mineral-stained.

  On the positive side, the cave the book had mentioned was clearly visible without any rush of water to cover it. Sadly, it was midway up and completely inaccessible.

  “How in the name of Braylian are we supposed to reach that?” she asked.

  “Climb?” Daric suggested.

  Rain snorted. “And break our necks?”

  He looked at her. “What do you suggest?”

  She studied the cliffside. “Climb,” she finally said, although she didn’t like it one bit.

  “I’ll go,” he said. “There’s no reason for you to risk yourself.”

  “I’ll go,” Rain countered. “You’re of more value. Astraea won’t marry me and give water to Leathen if you’re dead.”

  Daric’s head canted to the side as he rather harshly said, “Aldo might provide it instead.”

  “Parr is half as rich as Raana in both wealth and resources. And don’t snarl at me. I didn’t ask to be married off.”

  A dark, foreboding look crossed Daric’s face. Her kind prince was a lovely companion, but this intense man was someone who made her heat and shiver and ache. Although she tried to curb it, she always gravitated toward the heart-pounding and wild. In spirit, she remained untamed.

  “We’ll both go,” Rain said. “I’d rather break my neck with you than live without you. In Parr. With Aldo,” she added for good measure. The mention of her intended had the desired effect: Daric stopped thinking clearly and agreed to her plan with a muttered curse.

  They left their horses and supplies at the base of the cliff, their mounts tied with loose ropes staked to the ground near some dry grass and the trickle of water that was the only evidence of the once mighty Falls of Alder. Not wanting to compromise their balance, they left everything behind except for a dagger each and a pouch to gather the bloodstone they needed.