Page 45 of Homeward for a Spell

She blows out a long breath, and the vapor hangs in front of her. She certainly will not call on Clauneck. She will figure out how to use Tea’s scroll to retrieve the magical item from the Swallow. She will keep going. Even if every new mile makes her bones hurt. Her cloak is soaked nearly through, and in places the snow lies up to her horse’s knees. Somehow, she will keep going.

Reluctantly.

What choice does she have? She can’t turn back on her own—that’s a sure way to die of frostbite in the howling wilderness—and if they don’t keep going, the party’s mission will fail.

Was it a mistake to leave the comforts of her life in Ashaway? A few days ago in the hot springs in Hexham, or even last night in the tent in Briarwall, it certainly hadn’t been, but now, she’s not so sure. Adventure is all well and good until it’s blowing snow in your face after another grueling mile of riding with no end in sight.

Still, it would be worse to be at an engagement party, hanging on Denby’s arm, laughing at his jokes, pretending to care at all about what he thinks or wants from her.

It would be warm, though. That’s something.

Araphi heaves a sigh and runs a gloved hand over her acorn and lemon pendants. “You made the choice,” she mutters to herself. “Keep going.”

She nudges her horse forward, keeping her eyes on Sage, who’s ahead of her. Behind her Bramble whistles a merry tune, but Araphi can’t bring herself to even follow the notes. Who knew that there was such a thing as being too cold for music?

They ride on for what feels like hours, until each hill, pine grove, and icy slope looks the same. Until Araphi can barely feel her fingers, much less use them to play the lute for anything resembling a song. Until she’s not even sure if they’re just going in circles, though Sage surely knows.

Night is already falling by the time they come across an abandoned homestead built against a towering cliff. The house’s roof is long caved in, and all the windows are blown out. Long claw marks—Araphi doesn’t even want to know what sort of beast made those—score the door of the house and the sides of the mostly intact barn. Snow piles almost to the top of the tumbledown fences that dot the homestead, but the sight of the little house and barn is so welcome, Araphi could weep. The thought of sleeping in her makeshift tent or on the ground after their bitterly cold day of riding is unbearable. Using scraps of wood they find, Bramble and Sage make a fire in one corner of the barn. Silently, the party shares some bread and dried meat.

“We’ll watch in pairs tonight,” Sage declares as Nura and Bramble roll out blankets near the fire. She picks up her bow. “The potential perils are greater than ever now. I’ll be up in the loft to keep an eye on the approach to the barn.”

“I’ll watch with you,” Araphi says hastily, standing up. She’s exhausted, but the thought of spending any time alone with Sage is exhilarating.

Sage nods once and starts up the loft ladder. Araphi scrambles after her.

It’s colder up here. Snow-speckled wind drifts through the gaps in the barn’s boards and through the open hayloft window, and the fire the others rest beside is too far below for much heat to carry, but still Araphi is grateful to be here. And she doesn’t want to talk about her doubts, or the dangers in front of them, or the cold night around them.

She just hopes the ranger is up for what she does want.

Before long, the others’ snores fill the barn, floating up from below. Sage leans against the sill of the window, her eyes on the expanse of snow and forest.

Araphi strides softly over to her, snaking a hand around her waist and resting her chin on Sage’s shoulder.

“Hello, Ranger. It’s been too long since we were alone.”

“Has it, now?”

Araphi grins. “It feels like it. I don’t think I’ve gotten you out of my system quite yet, if I’m being honest. It’s wretched.” She ghosts her fingers along the nape of Sage’s neck above her shirt collar, predicting the deep shiver that travels down the ranger’s spine, just as it did last night.

“Don’t distract me, Bard,” Sage says, her tone playful, but her gaze still focused on the horizon.

“I would never, Ranger. I’ll leave you to the night and your watch, if you can assure me that I’m fully out of your system.” Her lips graze Sage’s skin as she whispers the words.

Sage shivers again. “I’m not entirely confident that’s the case.”

This admission emboldens Araphi. “Perhaps we can play a little game to help us stay awake, then?”

“What did you have in mind?”

Araphi feathers a kiss on the spot where Sage’s jaw meets her neck. “You watch for deadly Northlands creatures and I kiss you dizzy and keep you warm.”

She circles the ranger to plant another kiss on Sage’s neck, on her collarbone, on her shoulder.

“The others will hear us.” Sage keeps still, but her voice is tight with desire.

Araphi loves it when she sounds like that. “They won’t. Because you’re not going to wake them up, are you?”

Sage grins at Araphi. “Fine. Challenge accepted, Bard.”