Rain bit her lip to keep from saying—or perhaps doing—something rash. In moments like this, she wished that Daric would lean in and kiss her. And if he didn’t, that maybe she would find the courage to kiss him.

She let the thought seduce her and then pushed it away, as always. “And you’re of value to everyone.”

A shadow flitted through his eyes, the cloud of responsibility, and she wished she’d said nothing.

“Let’s talk of happier things,” Daric said briskly. “Open your present.”

Rain brushed her fingers over the velvet again, wondering what could be inside. When Daric said Leathen had nothing left, he meant it. Even the castle had been mostly stripped of tapestries, rugs, and furnishings and was in terrible condition, making cold mornings like this difficult to face. In return for the food Leathen so desperately needed, their neighbors, and especially Raana, now had everything the House of Ash could possibly sell or barter.

King Wilder had finally been forced to offer up the last thing he had of value: Daric.

If Rain had truly been a member of the Ash family, she supposed she would have gone first, likely to the House of Lockwood in the south to guarantee their continued friendship and assistance. They were the only ones with a marriageable male royal: a king much older than she who’d been widowed for years and whose heirs were daughters.

Any of the Lockwood princesses would have been better for Daric than Astraea. Regrettably, they were all married and also offered nothing in the way of easily accessible water.

“Your patience far exceeds mine,” Daric said, reaching for the box.

Rain twisted away from him with a smile. “Don’t you dare. I’ll open it. Right now, I’m savoring it.”

“Savoring the box?” His winter-blue eyes glimmered with roguish charm. “That’s older than I am, you know. I found it in a wardrobe. I’m reusing it.”

“It’s lovely.”

“And we’ll both be old and gray before you actually open it,” he grumbled.

Rain took pity on the impatient prince and lifted the lid. Amid more red velvet lay a delicate starflower carved from white marble. Her breath caught. It was Braylian’s mark.

“When I made it, I carved a small loop into the back so that you can slide a hairpin through it. See?” Daric pulled a hairpin from his pocket, picked up the starflower, and slipped the pin through the loop. Clearly, he’d planned ahead.

Rain watched his deft fingers as much as the sparkling gift, too overwhelmed to speak. Early morning sunlight poured through the window—long deprived of curtains now—and glinted off the crystalline stone, making it glitter like snow on a winter morning.