The King's Cursed Bride

Dancing in the Rain

            

Author's Note: This chapter just turned out long... But I'm sure none of you are complaining ;) Enjoy!

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Elon reined the horse to a halt before dismounting. He lifted up his arms, and Carissa slid into his embrace before he set her down. He removed some of the horse's packs, stuffed them into his own, and slapped the horse on the rump. The horse started towards the palace, about five miles of field in the distance. At least it wasn't terribly far—especially since Elon had sent their only means of transportation away.

Carissa turned to face the edge of the forest. Shaggy green treetops contrasted with the gray clouds, swollen and pregnant with the promise of rain. If not for the fading gallop of the horse and the chatter of birdsong, the forest would have been eerily silent. The fresh air held a subtle chill, enough to make her draw her arms around herself for the extra warmth.

Elon lowered the pack for a moment before withdrawing a fur-lined cloak and handing it to her.

She swung the cloak around her shoulders and was tempted to sigh at its soft caress. "Now where, Elon?"

He heaved the pack onto his shoulders. "This way." He strode into the forest.

After a few minutes, the walk had become rather unpleasant. Undergrowth scratched at her ankles, and though Elon held branches aside for her, many caught in her hair or dress. Stepping on the occasional pinecone wasn't helping matters, either.

And then it began to rain.

It was a polite drizzle for mere seconds before the clouds gushed water upon them. Strands of her wet hair clung to her neck and face. Though the cloak wicked the water well, rain still managed to seep into every gap and crevice available, and soon her dress had turned to lead, water soaking through its many layers. And Elon had thought she hadn't needed to pack anything.

Goosebumps prickled her skin. She tried to chafe her arms, but as wet as she was, it did little good. The chill wasn't subtle now; it was outright invasive, slicing through flesh and bone to draw out the last of her body's warmth.

"Elon!" She raised her voice above the splatter of rain and clattering tree branches.

He slowed and turned towards her.

"I'm cold."

He closed the gap between them, until they were close enough to speak in whispers. "As am I."

"Could we stop?"

He shook his head, flinging water off the hood of his cloak. "We haven't reached the cave yet—that's where we'll stop for the night. Should we stop now, likely we won't be able to find sufficient shelter to dry and warm ourselves."

A cave did sound rather nice. She sighed and nodded. "I suppose we'd best keep going."

Elon caught her hand in his. "Lands, Carissa. You feel like ice."

She shrugged, but with the weight of the cloak and her wet dress, her shoulders barely rose. "It seems there's naught to be done about it."

He massaged her hand with both of his, his calloused fingers working warmth into her palm. "We could dance."

"Dance?" Surely she'd misheard him or the roar of rain had drowned his words.

He nodded. "But not something boring, like a waltz. Something fast, lively, and perhaps a little scandalous." Even beneath the dim of his hood, his brown eyes were bright. "I'm certain such a dance would keep the chill at bay. Are you up for it?"