Rain put a finger over Daric’s lips to hush him, warmth tingling down her arm at the contact. “King Wilder did what he thought was best, and I don’t blame him, either. Your parents have been kind to me and have treated me as their own for the last fifteen years, despite my being a useless mouth to feed in their home.”

“Useless mouth to feed?” Daric echoed indignantly.

His breath swirled around her finger, and the feel of his warm lips was one of the most intimate things Rain had ever experienced. Though they did almost everything together, they rarely touched except when dancing. But no one really danced anymore. There wasn’t much to celebrate.

Rain dropped her hand. She remembered little of her life before she became flesh. She’d been ancient; she knew that. But she’d taken the form of a child to match the charming, earnest boy who’d called out to her that day. Awareness of her previous existence and abilities had been mostly stripped from her, and Braylian had refused to take her back into the Cauldron.

“What good am I?” she asked, knowing her tone matched Daric’s recent bitterness. “Braylian brought forth a new Spring, and she doesn’t see Leathen any more than I did. People are desperate and starving. I’m of no value to the kingdom. You’re being forced to marry Astraea.” Rain heard the near growl in her voice and didn’t even try to disguise it. Raana’s princess had been malicious as a child and age had only worsened her. On a royal visit many years ago, Astraea had snuck into Rain’s bedroom one night and cut off her hair while she slept. She’d then used Rain’s hair to make a noose to hang Daric’s cat. Astraea still gloated about it. That was who Daric was being forced to marry. That was who he’d have to endure so that Raana would create a canal to divert water directly into Leathen.

Raana’s mightiest reservoir sat mockingly on the border, filled to the brim with precious water. All they needed was a year of digging to direct some of that water into the dry riverbed that wound like a desiccated serpent through Leathen’s once-fertile farmland.

King Wilder had been trying to negotiate a canal with Raana for years, but Illanna Nighthall wouldn’t agree to it, even when orin mines had still been a valuable bargaining chip. She finally had, but her price was Daric. With a marriage, the House of Nighthall gained the heart of the continent, and Daric could finally save his people, if not his kingdom. His entire life revolved around bringing them out of this seemingly endless drought. He would do it, even if it meant tying himself to that witch Astraea.

“You’re of value to me,” Daric said softly.