Page 104 of Fate's Wicked Oath

The following week was pure misery. Soggy, sopping, mucky misery.

Rain pinged off our armor in a relentless assault. Mud turned the High Road into a treacherous bog. My boots and socks were in a constant state of wet, rubbing cold blisters into my heels. A branch had ripped a hole in my tent, spilling a torrent onto my bedroll. Fires were impossible, and therefore I was wracked with a damp chill that never fully subsided, my gear perpetually soaked. There was no ignoring the misery, either—not with my magictwingingwith every pinprick of rain.

The worst part, however, was the memory of Faren’s arms around me, and the knowledge that, if I asked him to, he’d do it again. For the past five nights, I’d craved his crushing warmth with a selfishness that he didn’t deserve, a disquieting depth of need. If I gave in, I was certain that the need would only grow. Pushing him away in Waldron had hurt, but not as much as it would’ve hurt to have him and lose him once we returned to Fenrir City.

We were already too entangled for our own good.

Still, try as I might to forget the decadence of his embrace, as we rode in silence through a never-ending deluge, it wasallI could think about.

That is, except the torturous rain.

By the time we arrived in Brine, I was thoroughly glum. Night had fallen, and the lanterns of the town poured honey light into the silver-streaked darkness.

Faren, who had seemed equally as sullen as I, perked up at the sight of civilization. “Drink?”

Utterly beaten by rain, I did not have the willpower to deny him—or myself.

We handed Simon and Sunny over to the care of a stable hand, discarding our armor with the saddles, then shuffled into the Lark Inn & Pub. With our cloaks heavy and dripping, and our hair plastered to our faces, we left a trail of rainwater on the worn wooden floor. Faren collected our outer layers to hang by the fire, while I went straight for the bar for hot mulled ciders and to put in an order for supper.

In spite of the piss-poor weather, the place was lively, loud with laughter and song. Aside from a pitying glance from the barmaid, nobody seemed to take note of our sorry states. With mugs in hand, I wove through the crowded room in search of Faren, praying to the Fates that he’d secured us a seat in the packed pub.

I found him at the same table we’d shared a little over two weeks before, and when I collapsed onto the bench beside him—our shoulders colliding—I didn’t have it in me to pretend I didn’t enjoy his closeness. I slid a mug in his direction, and we both drank deep—only to splutter when the cider burned our tongues.

We stared at one another, grimacing over our shared wretchedness. Rainwater dripped from Faren’s nose and chin, and with his hair flat against his head, his stern jaw stood out instark relief; he looked like the most handsome drowned rat I’d ever seen.

A harsh chortle bubbled out of me. It grew into unfettered, convulsing laughter, maniacal after so many dismal days of riding and suffering in silence. Faren eyed me, dubious of my outburst—but then he was laughing, too, the both of us quaking with the horribleness of it all.

“Awful,” I choked out. “Truly some of the worst travel days I’ve experienced.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever felt so horrid,” Faren said on a laugh. “Inside or out.”

His admission warmed me, and I chased the sensation with a more measured sip of cider. “Me neither,” I admitted.

With a crooked smile, he rested his arm along the back of the bench behind me. “Considering our magic, I believe we’ve been quite valorous in the face of our struggle.”

“Ugh, my magic. Never have I hated it more.”

The corners of his eyes crinkled. “Want to know a secret?”

“Yes.”

He took a tentative sip from his mug. “In addition to the ability to increase my sensitivity, I’m one of those rare touch magicians who can also dull their senses. Helps me last longer”—his gaze cut to mine, and he winked—“in the rain, I mean.”

“You bastard,” I said, even as my face flushed. “And here I thought we were suffering together.”

“Hey, now,” Faren soothed. “It takes considerable effort to keep my skin dull for days on end—and I can’t do it when I sleep. I suffered plenty.”

I scoffed, feigning annoyance.

“How can I make it up to you? Should I increase my sensitivity for the remainder of our journey?”

There was nowhere else for my mind to go. I thought immediately of our kiss and the way he’d groaned with relief.Lost in the overwhelming sensation of my own magic, I hadn’t considered the malleability of his. My magic never ceased, but the idea that Faren might’ve used his to heighten his pleasure andfeelmore thoroughly sent a wave of desire through me.

“That won’t be necessary,” I mumbled.

“How might I repent, then?” he went on, oblivious to my fluster. “Perhaps a gift? I could purchase us a room for the night?”

Aroom. Singular.