Page 29 of Homeward for a Spell

Desire pools low in Araphi’s belly, but she turns away before the ranger can see the blush rise on her cheeks. As casually as she can manage, she studies the clusters of orange oak leaves above Sage’s head. “Well, I’ll be going. Need to check on my bags and—”

“I was looking for swelling,” Sage says in an awkward rush, her words tumbling out like the water in the stream. “Bramble hassled me into it last night. I need to put more salve on, but I can’t reach it myself. Could you…er…” Her words trail off, as if it physically hurts her to ask for help.

“Could I help you?” Araphi prompts.

“Yes.” Sage crosses her arms. “Please?”

Araphi bites back a grin. “Turn around, Ranger.”

Sage obliges, handing Araphi a pot of spicy-smelling green salve, and then turning so she’s facing the tree trunk.

Carefully, Araphi rubs the paste between her hands, but hesitates. “I don’t think I can…I’m afraid I’ll get it all over your shirt like this. Could you, um…”

Understanding, Sage tenses for a moment. Then with a resigned sigh, she grabs a fistful of the back of her shirt, and tugs it up and over her head. Now the ranger really is half naked, and there’s only her chestwrap to contend with, but Araphi certainly won’t be requesting its removal.

As she massages the paste into Sage’s skin, her fingers slide over Sage’s collarbone and then lightly along the hollow at the base of her neck. The ranger inhales sharply—a noise that nearly undoes Araphi’s concentration. Her hands shake as they ghost along the ranger’s shoulder blades.

“Are you sure you know what you’re doing, Bard?” Sage’s voice is husky, edged with something hungry.

Araphi leans in close, so her lips are beside Sage’s ear. “Absolutely. Bramble has been giving me healing lessons.” Her fingertips trace the crease of Sage’s spine down to the back of her wrappings, before she drops her hands to her sides. “Done,” she declares.

“Thank you,” Sage murmurs, turning to face Araphi. “That feels much better.”

“I bet.”

They’re nearly nose to nose now, so close Araphi can see the feather of Sage’s dark lashes. The bow of her upper lip. The damn dimple in her cheek. Without thinking, Araphi reaches out again for the back of Sage’s neck, her palm whispering over Sage’s undercut.

“What are you doing, Bard?” Sage says, her breath warm against Araphi’s face.

What is she doing? It would be the most natural thing to lean toward Sage. Ask permission for a kiss. Push the ranger against the tree and fit their bodies together…

“You had a leaf in your hair,” Araphi says, pulling it free. She holds it up.

Sage smiles at her. “You really are a—”

Before she can tell Araphi what she really is, Nura stomps into the clearing.

“Oh gods, not again,” Nura groans. Her eyes swoop over the minimal distance between Araphi and Sage. Sage’s shirt still crumpled in her hands, held in front of her stomach. “Can’t leave you two alone for a moment. It’s my parents all over again. Far too in love, I always tell them. Can’t stop kissing over the stewpot.”

Without another word, she turns, hurrying back toward the trail.

Araphi can’t help the laugh that bursts out. “I think we’ve traumatized our young fighter.” She steps away from Sage.

The ranger grins at her. “Nothing worse than she’s seen around the fighting pits, I’m sure. But I suppose I have to get back.”

“Of course.”

Araphi longs to say more. To beg Sage to finish telling her what she really is. To pull the ranger against the tree again and kiss her dizzy. Instead she just waves as Sage walks away and tries very hard to forget how the ranger’s warm skin felt under her palms.

A few hours later, the party leaves the forest path. Sage and Remy must spy some kind of landmark, though every tree and leaf looks the same to Araphi. Sure enough, after a tromp through heavier brush, they reach a skinny river with a mill on the bank, its dilapidated waterwheel covered in moss. Clearly it hasn’t moved in many years. A little farther downstream, they cross single file over a narrow wooden bridge that Remy assures them all will lead to Hexham. Araphi steps onto the planks, sending splinters and leaves into the trickle of river far below.

“Please hold together,” Bramble prays behind her, though Araphi doesn’t know whether a healer’s god has any domain over bridges.

Please hold together, she repeats in her mind anyhow, as the last thing they need is for this adventure to end with them all at the bottom of a river, and the wrong one at that. She’s exhausted, dusty from the road, and ready for the longest bath of her life—though a wintry plunge in a rushing river isn’t what she has in mind. Well, she’s the one who wanted adventure. And she still does, but she hadn’t reckoned on adventure coming with so many bruises…or so much Sage.

She makes it to the other side of the bridge, and she walks to where Sage has stopped.

Sage’s eyes are trained on the man and woman who stand in the trees before them.