Episode 4
Trains and Other Terrifying Things
Elowyn watches Prince Rominy as her heart races, though whether it’s her own anxiety or his or some combination of both causing it is hard to say. What will he decide?
Of all the ways she imagined her first meeting with him going, it never occurred to her that he wouldn’t even know she existed. Thoughts of his rejection had crossed her mind, but not because he didn’t understand the details of their parents’ agreement.
And certainly not because he had no idea he was even betrothed.
Does he understand Mother won’t be able to maintain the heartbinding forever? And if he doesn’t bind with Elowyn, he’ll die when Mother does? Mother certainly won’t let go of the magic until she’s drained her own life keeping Prince Rominy alive. Of that, Elowyn has no doubt.
Not that Elowyn is keen on her future binding partner choosing to bind with her simply because the alternative is death.
“I’ll do it.” Prince Rominy looks at the cobblestones beneath his heavy black boots.
Then he turns his gaze toward Elowyn’s mother.
“I owe my existence to you, Your Majesty. May your gift to me and my people mark an age of peace between our kingdoms.” The prince inclines his head, and Mother nods in return as relief flows through Elowyn.
“And you, my young princess.” Pera looks at Prince Rominy’s sister.
“This is not what you were expecting, but there is something to be said for binding with a second son rather than a future king. Cerian has more freedom to come and go as he pleases than Tharios does. According to our treaty, you will make your home in Lostariel, but I see no reason you can’t visit your family frequently.
And Cerian will be happy to travel at your side. ”
Elowyn glances at Cerian. His expression is hard and unchanging. Pera may be painting Cerian’s happiness a bit more broadly than is warranted.
“Oh,” Princess Arisanna says. “I mean, of course, Your Majesty. I am honored to wed your son Cerian if it will further peace between our kingdoms.”
She offers a slight curtsy and dip of her head, and Elowyn would bet her last coin that the princess has been well-trained in her role. At least she was expecting to bind with an elf tomorrow, unlike her brother.
“Are we all satisfied with this arrangement?” Pera turns to the human king and queen.
They look quite a bit less than satisfied, but neither argues.
“Of course, Lorial,” King Gerault says. “I trust this misunderstanding has not put a damper on our desire for peace.”
“As do I,” Pera says.
“A train waits to transport us to Levina,” the human king says. “Your horses will be well cared for here while you are parted.”
Pera nods, and Elowyn sucks in her cheeks to hold back a grin at Cerian’s dismay. She has no plans to let her brother’s dark mood dampen her own excitement at riding on one of these human trains.
With a kiss to Starlight’s nose and a pat of her neck, Elowyn hands the reins to a waiting groom.
“This way, Your Majesty,” Prince Rominy says to Pera as he glances uncertainly at Elowyn before looking away.
Biting her lip to contain her glee, Elowyn happily follows the young prince to the locomotive waiting for them.
Hopefully, the rest of the day will pass without issue.
Cerian eyes the noisy, smelly metal behemoth with unveiled disgust.
“You can do this,” Father says near his ear, and reluctantly, Cerian steps from the wooden platform to the train car behind Mother, Tharios, and Viala. It feels unsteady beneath his feet.
Of course, Elowyn is ecstatic. She climbed aboard behind her human prince without a moment’s hesitation. It’s a good thing she’s the one moving to Nunia and not him.
Though Father just promised the human princess plentiful visits in the future. If Cerian didn’t know better, he’d think Father did it to spite him.
Father wouldn’t do that, though. And Princess Arisanna is the one leaving everything behind. It wasn’t an unreasonable thing for Father to offer, especially since Cerian loves to wander beyond the confines of Darlei and Celesta, and Father knows it.
He just prefers to travel alone as the mood strikes. In the woods. Not on a human locomotive.
The train car is well appointed for a traveling tube of metal. Padded seats face each other in groups of four on both sides of a center aisle. Velvet lines the cushions and the walls, and brocade curtains flutter in the open windows, letting in the suffocating odor of burning coal.
Princess Arisanna lowers herself to an open seat nearby, and Father taps Cerian’s shoulder and gestures him toward her.
“You have agreed to do this, Cerian. I recommend you try to have a good attitude about it. For all our sakes.”
With a barely concealed huff, Cerian follows his father’s suggestion and lowers himself to the seat facing the princess. Hopefully, someone else will sit with them so Cerian won’t need to do more than offer polite niceties.
Of course, he is binding with the princess tomorrow. He’ll have to talk to her eventually.
As he lifts his head to gaze at the rest of his kin, it becomes clear that this car is relegated to the royal families. It’s fairly empty, and everyone else seems to be finding seats elsewhere.
Whistling wind. So much for not having to carry on a conversation with the princess. He chances a glance her way to find her studying him. What must she be thinking? Is she wishing she could bind with Tharios instead? The expression of dismay on her face earlier was telling.
It probably doesn’t help that he keeps glaring at everyone and everything.
“You speak Nunian very well,” Princess Arisanna says in Elvish, much to Cerian’s surprise. Her accent is strong, but at least he can understand her words, unlike the drivel that poured from her brother’s and father’s mouths earlier.
“You speak Elvish.”
“I do. I’ve been practicing with tutors for most of my life.”
“Preparing to become the next Queen of Lostariel?” The words leave Cerian’s mouth before he can stop them, but a screeching whistle from the train muffles his voice. He’d glower at the deafening noise if he weren’t so grateful that the princess didn’t hear his venom. None of this is her fault.
“I’m afraid I didn’t catch that,” she says with a timid smile as the train lurches forward.
Cerian braces himself against the movement while his eyes dart around the cabin.
“Prince Cerian?”
He looks back at the princess. “Sorry. I have never experienced your trains before.”
“They’re a bit unrefined, are they not? No amount of velvet and brocade can hide the noise and smell.” She scrunches up her nose before smiling again.
“I admit I prefer my horse.”
The princess glances around before meeting Cerian’s eyes again. “Will I be permitted to bring my own horse to Lostariel? My parents told me it would be up to you. Well, to my...to my...”
Cerian stares at her. She’s asking his permission to bring her horse?
Her brow wrinkles at Cerian’s lack of response. “Perhaps I’ve misstepped? Or gotten the translation wrong?”
Cerian shakes his head. “Of course you may bring your horse. You don’t need my permission for that.”
“Oh. Thank you.”
Cerian nods.
“I also have trunks,” she says hesitantly.
“Trunks?”
They came on horseback. How are they supposed to transport trunks all the way to Darlei, let alone Celesta?
“Full of my belongings. Mostly my...gowns.” Her cheeks turn pink, and Cerian looks away.
“I can provide you with clothing.”
“I assumed as much. My mother”—the princess glances at the human queen—“thought it would be poor form not to send me off with a...I’m not sure what the Elvish word is. A whole new set of clothing for a bride.”
“You replaced all your clothes just because you and I are...?” Cerian doesn’t finish the thought.
“It seems quite wasteful, doesn’t it? Perhaps I should leave it all for your sister. She looks near my size. I’m sure the seamstresses can alter it to fit.”
Cerian snorts at that. Elowyn would be thrilled.
“Unless you think that’s a bad idea?” Princess Arisanna sends him a look full of uncertainty.
“I think it’s an acceptable idea. Unless you’re attached to any of it,” he adds. Not that he has a way to transport trunks back to Lostariel.
Her smile returns. “Not a bit of it. I’m intrigued by the split skirts your kin wear. It seems infinitely more practical than the layers upon layers we wear in Nunia.”
Cerian glances at her full skirt. “I’m not an expert on fashion.”
The princess’s smile fades. “No. Of course not. Forgive me for babbling on.” She turns to look out the window, and Cerian follows her gaze as rolling fields pass to the incessant clacking of the locomotive on its rails.
Neither of them speaks, and Cerian exhales slowly, happy to be left to his own thoughts again.
Much to Rominy’s dismay, Princess Elowyn plants herself right beside him on the train car, and no one in either of their families is merciful enough to join them.
“You can calm down, Prince Rominy. I don’t bite.”
“What makes you think I’m anything but calm?” He clears his throat when his voice comes out at a much higher pitch than he intended.
“Your heart is racing.”
Right.
“Your sister must be much more sedate than you are,” Princess Elowyn continues. “Either that or you exert yourself regularly in physical exercise. Cerian says he rarely feels anything but calm coming from Princess Arisanna, but you often make my heart race.”
She probably has no idea the connotation her words carry to a native speaker of Nunian.
“D-do I?” he asks.
“Indeed. I’ve been eager to meet the person who affects me so.” A thoughtful expression fills her face. “I’m sorry my existence has come as such a shock to you.”
Rominy studies her in the light from the gas lamps hanging nearby. It will be dark by the time they reach Levina.
“I owe you an apology,” Rominy says. “I hope you didn’t take any of our earlier interchange personally.”
“Not at all. I’m grateful to you for your willingness to bind with me despite the short notice.”
Rominy exhales slowly and nods.
“I’m intrigued by your locomotive. Will you tell me how it works?” the princess asks.
Relieved at the change of topic, Rominy launches into an explanation of the steam engine and how it propels the train cars along parallel tracks laid throughout Nunia.
Princess Elowyn listens in rapt attention, asking all sorts of questions that he does his best to answer. To his surprise, no time at all seems to have passed when the train slows, and he looks out the window to see the lights of Levina swiftly approaching.
“We’re here,” he says, and the princess leans across him to see out the window.
What is she doing?
“This is your city?”
“Y-yes.” He presses his back farther into the backrest to avoid touching her.
“Fascinating. Do you live in that castle?”
“I...I...yes.”
“I’ve heard about castles, but I’ve never seen one in person. I can’t believe I get to live in one now.”
Stars above. She’s going to live with him.
He needs air.
As soon as the train stops, he scrambles away from her and makes a beeline for the castle and the private balcony outside his chamber.
Leaning against the stone railing, he takes in lungfuls of the cool evening breeze as his heart rate returns to some semblance of normal. Then he castigates himself. That was the height of rudeness. He’s supposed to be playing the host. Not running from the woman he just agreed to marry.
“Rominy!”
He cringes at the sound of his mother’s voice coming from inside his sitting room. Closing the balcony door behind him, Rominy finds his father pacing the floor as Mother stands near the door, wringing her hands. Arisanna is there, too, with her usual calm demeanor.
They must have settled the elven delegation in the guest wing after Rominy made his hasty exit.
“This is unacceptable,” Mother says. “These were not the terms we agreed to.”