Farron
I HAVEN’T SEEN A storm like this in years. The clouds, heavy with rain, loom low over the
realmlands, sparking with lightning. Rosalina sits in front of me atop my great elk, Thrand. Her white
mare, spooked by the thunder, trots behind us on a lead.
“This certainly came on quickly,” Rosalina calls above the wind.
When we embarked this morning, the sky had been clear, that gray-blue color I’ve only seen in this
realm. Rosalina and I had set forth to a village frozen by one of those wraiths.
Kel had barely batted an eye at Rosalina and I traveling alone. He trusts me, I realize. He trusts
that my magic is enough to protect his mate. A warmth blooms in my chest.
With Autumn’s Blessing, I’m the only one strong enough to unfreeze an entire village on my own.
With the rest of our forces spread thin, I’m happy to take these missions. Traveling to the village
today took the better part of the morning, but the relieved faces of the citizens had been worth it.
As grateful as the villagers were for my magic and presence, it was Rosalina who had truly
comforted them. There was a feeling of harmony in the way she handed out the supplies, a trust and
comfort in her words that didn’t sound forced but brimmed with genuine optimism. I might have used
my flames to clear the frost, but Rosalina left something else gleaming in their eyes.
The spark of hope.
It’s her faith in all of us to make this right, I think. Her faith in me.
Faith that I’ve had a hard time finding lately.
“The weather can be temperamental here. The storm probably won’t last long.” I urge my steed
forward. His giant hooves splatter in the mud. The wind pelts my face, and my clothes are completely
drenched.
And not just mine. Rosalina’s beige tunic is soaked, and through the light material, I see the dark
shape of her pointed nipples. My thoughts run wild with need. I want to spin her around, take her
breast in my mouth, wet fabric and all, and suck her until she’s aching.
My elk starts up a rocky incline, and the shift in gravity presses Rosie flush against me. My riding
pants do little to hide my engorged cock as it rubs against her ass.
“Oh.” Rosalina lets out a breathy sound, and it’s as if she’s deciding on whether to move away. Her
hand drifts up into the rain. “There’s beauty to the storm, isn’t there? Something wild and
uninhibited.”
“You mean dangerous,” I say.
“Or is it only perceived that way? Storms renew ecosystems, enrich the soil, and help prevent
fires. The calamity of a storm heals.” She leans against me, pushing herself into my bulge. “Imagine
being that way: wild and unafraid, if only while the rain falls.”
“A stroke of lightning,” I murmur, my hands moving around her body. “A flash, and then it’s gone.”
“But what a flash it could be.” Her voice is low, hungry.
I know what she’s doing. These moments alone together have only made me doubt when I failed to
touch her in the hot springs or when I couldn’t kiss her at the burned library.
My logical brain knows I made the right choices then.
But while the rain falls...
“Hold these for a moment.” I hand her the reins. Thrand is so well-trained he doesn’t require much
guidance. “I should stretch.”
I splay my fingers on her soft stomach. She leans her head back against my chest, admiring the
scenery. The red and gold trees bend and creak, their branches lashing out in the gale. Bursts of
lightning illuminate the dark noon sky.
“Are you cold?”
“Not too bad,” Rosalina says, but her shiver tells me otherwise.
I run my hands up and down her arms. Just keeping her warm, I tell myself. But when my fingers
graze the side of her breast, we both make an anguished sound. We’re playing a game, but we both
know the truth. I want her. She wants me.
“Please touch me,” she says, lightly, tentatively. Rosie’s been trying to show me how she feels for
months. Her heart is right there for me to take.
The problem is: I know I won’t want to give it back.
I dip my head to the crook of her neck, my wet hair falling in a tangle as I let go of control. I brush
my hand over the mounds of her chest. Slippery fabric slides beneath my fingers, and Rosie lets out a
soft moan as I caress her pointed nipples, no doubt sensitive from the cold.
“I wish I could peel this off,” I whisper, “and lick every drop of rain from your body.”
“Farron.” Rosalina drops the reins, grasping each of my thighs.
Her hands caress has me wanting to strip her bare and take her on this elk. I move my lips to her
neck.
“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” she murmurs. She knows my hesitations.
But I can’t find it in myself to care. “I’m just helping you get warm,” I say.
Slowly, I let my hands slip beneath the cloth. Her skin is so silky. She squirms as I knead the soft
flesh. She arches her hips, and between the wet constraints of my pants, my cock is painfully hard.
I can’t help but imagine it, how heated and glorious it would be to sheathe myself inside her. Ezryn
hasn’t touched her that way. I’m surprised even Dayton hasn’t. Her own fucking mate won’t claim her.
Her pussy is begging to be fucked, and the scent of her arousal near consumes me.
“Fare.” The word is a plea. “More, please. If you can.”
I would give her the whole world if I could. My hand drifts over her stomach to her equally wet
leggings. Softly, I rub the slick fabric. A raw whimper escapes her lips, and I answer it with a growl
as I squeeze her breast. She needs to be fucked.
“Yes,” she says. But she’s shaking against me, and not from pleasure.
“Rosie, you’re freezing.”
“No, I-I’m f-fine.” But she can’t keep the chatter out of her voice now. Sometimes I forget she’s
human, that her needs differ from us fae.
I blink and try to find a landmark through the sheet of rain. I take Thrand’s reins and slightly alter
our course to descend into a small valley.
“There’s a tavern,” I tell her. “We can wait out the worst of the storm before returning to
Coppershire.”
Rosie nods. Thrand makes his way carefully down the hill, and I adjust Rosie’s shirt to properly
cover her. The buttery orange glow of the tavern cuts through the mist, the light reminding me of the
will-o’-wisps we once saw.
The wisps that showed me my mate bond is nothing but a tangled mess. Not surprising, really. I
always knew there was something broken inside of me. Our research hasn’t turned up any answers for
it yet, but I know Rosie won’t stop looking.
Wood smoke billowing from a chimney mixes with the smell of damp earth. At the side of the
building, we board Rosalina’s horse in the stable, while Thrand trots off to the cover of the woods,
preferring the freedom. He’ll return at a simple whistle when it’s time to depart.
The tavern is for travelers, situated between towns off the main road to Coppershire. It’s a sturdy
wooden structure with a thatched roof and a large, welcoming door painted bright yellow. The
windows glow with the light of candles, and I can hear raucous laughter and clinking tankards from
within. A sign that reads “The Wandering Bard” above the entrance swings back and forth in the
wind, creaking loudly.
A rush of warm air swirls around us as we enter. It’s busy and dimly lit, with rough wooden tables
and benches strewn chaotically throughout the space. A fire crackles in the hearth, casting flickering
shadows on the walls.
The tavern owner, a stout and stern woman, greets us. “Don’t have much space left. We’re crowded
with so many people escaping the frost.” Her eyes narrow. “Prince Farron?”
I flush and feel the sudden direct attention of the tavern. I instinctively pull Rosie closer, though
their gazes are more curious, not hostile. “We don’t need a room, just a place to dry off and wait out
the storm.”
The owner scowls, determination crossing her features. Within a moment, she ushers us up the
stairs with arms full of dry clothes we tried to insist we didn’t need. But she wouldn’t take no for an
answer.
“Got some hot water ready,” she says, stopping in front of a simple brown door. “Stay as long as
you need.”
“We only intend to wait out the storm,” Rosalina says. “We have to return to Coppershire before
nightfall.”
My heart sinks. Of course we do. And it’s not to hide my beast. It’s a full moon tonight, the one
night a month the wolf doesn’t have dominion over me. But someone else does. I unconsciously tug
the chain of thorns around my neck. Tonight, we all fulfill my bargain with Caspian.
“Thank you again,” Rosalina says, taking the clothes from her.
“No, thank you, Lady Rosalina and Prince Farron.” She smiles. “Word’s spread about what you’re
doing across the realmlands. We won’t let that frost win.”
I give a weak smile and thank the owner myself before following Rosalina inside the room.
Outside, the shutters rattle with wind, and rain patters against the panes of glass.
The warmth of the blazing hearth washes over me as I take in the small room. There’s one bed, laid
with plush pillows. But it’s the object in the middle of the space that draws my attention.
A wooden tub, wisps of steam rising in the air.