Episode 5
Making the Best of It
“The gall of them to come here and demand we accede to their wishes,” Mother says, and Arisanna sighs.
“They were hardly demanding, Mother. King Lorial was quite compassionate about the misunderstanding.”
“You were supposed to wed the crown prince,” Father says to Arisanna. “Not the younger son.”
“What difference does it make?” she asks. “I’ve considered King Lorial’s words, and I think he’s right. I’ll have far more freedom as Prince Cerian’s wife than as the wife of a future king.”
Concern shines in Father’s eyes. “You can’t mean to tell me you’d prefer Cerian to Tharios.”
Arisanna flicks at a speck of dust on her skirt. “Perhaps not. But it hardly matters. Tharios is already married.”
“It hardly matters?” Mother cries. “The younger prince was extremely rude.”
“I don’t know that I’d call him rude, exactly.” Arisanna looks at her brother. He’s been strangely quiet.
“What do you have to say about all this?” Father asks Rominy.
“There’s not much to say. I agreed to marry the princess tomorrow.”
“Oh, this can’t be happening.” Mother’s hand-wringing escalates to a frenzy.
“Why is it all right for Arisanna to marry an elf but not for me to do the same?” Rominy asks.
That’s a good question. Arisanna waits for her parents to respond.
Father frowns. “Are you saying you want to marry her?”
“Of course not.” Rominy rubs his face. “But like it or not, we all agreed. We can’t change our minds now.”
“This is a disaster,” Mother moans.
“I’m still wondering why it’s fine for me and not for Rominy,” Arisanna says. “Am I expendable?”
Father steps toward her and wraps his arms around her. “Of course not, dear. We just had different plans for your brother. Other potential marriage partners in mind. Are you sure about pledging yourself to the younger prince?”
“No.” She draws out the word. “But it is best for all of us if I do, so I shall.”
“And I will marry Princess Elowyn,” Rominy says. “What choice do we have? This heartbinding leaves us little alternative. Surely we can all see that? I won’t be responsible for the elf queen’s death, to say nothing of my own.”
Mother heaves a sigh. “We should have paid more attention to their explanation of the magic before we signed that treaty.”
“It’s too late now,” Arisanna says. “Besides, Rominy and I wouldn’t even exist without it. We’ll just have to make the best of things. I’m sure I’ll warm up to Prince Cerian in time.”
Hopefully. Their conversation on the train left something to be desired.
“Well, if you’re both determined to go forward with this, I have work to do,” Mother says. “I’ll need to air out the connecting bedchamber and find wedding clothes for you, Rominy. Rearrange the ceremony...” Her voice trails off into a series of mumblings.
Rominy’s cheeks take on a pink cast in the yellow lamplight at the mention of his chamber, and Arisanna pushes away thoughts of her own sleeping arrangements with Prince Cerian.
Clearing her throat, she turns hesitantly to her mother. “Speaking of clothes, Prince Cerian and I agreed to gift most of my trousseau to Princess Elowyn.”
“You what?”
“They came on horseback, Mother. I can’t take multiple trunks with me. Prince Cerian promised to buy me a whole new elven wardrobe in Celesta.”
That might be stretching the truth just a tad, but it’s close enough to what he said.
“Besides,” she continues, “you saw how different their clothes are. Princess Elowyn needs Nunian clothing far more than I will.”
Mother lifts her nose. “Indecent is what I saw.”
Rominy looks ready to bolt at the turn their conversation has taken.
“Mother.” Arisanna rubs her brow. She’ll develop a headache soon at this rate.
Father sighs. “A late tea awaits us in my study. I suggest we adjourn there and let ourselves cool down. As unhappy as I am about these recent developments, I fear you both are right. This is necessary for Nunia’s continued peace with Lostariel, and we will just have to make the best of it.”
“It’s colder than I thought it would be.” Elowyn lowers herself to the bed in the guest-chamber the human servants offered her. “Wow, this is really soft.”
“It’s a building made of stone,” Cerian says as he eyes the water closet. “Of course it’s cold.”
Elowyn jumps back up. “Is there one of those showers Tharios told us about?”
“Why would you bring rain inside your dwelling?” Cerian asks.
“Doesn’t it sound amazing? Warm water dripping down on you at the turn of a lever?” She glances around the small room. Luxurious towels sit on a shelf near what looks like a small wardrobe. “That must be it.”
As she reaches for one of the wheels mounted on the wall inside the enclosure, Cerian takes a step back. “Don’t get me wet. We’re not all water wielders.”
She ignores him and tugs at the circular lever on the right.
“I think you’re supposed to turn it,” Cerian says.
“Right.” She twists the wheel, and water pours in tiny streams from a hole-laden faucet above, splattering her arm. “Oh, it’s cold! I thought it was supposed to be warm!” She hurries to shut the water off as laughter rings out behind her.
“The handle on the left, Elowyn,” Tharios says from the doorway.
“Ah. I see. So one is for cold water, and the other is for hot water? How convenient. I wonder where the hot water comes from. I’ll have to ask Prince Rominy.”
“If you didn’t scare him off,” Tharios teases. “He sure bolted when we arrived.”
Elowyn frowns as she dries her hand on a towel. “I think perhaps I came on too strong.”
“The humans like their personal space,” Tharios says.
“He did seem unnerved when I leaned across him to see out the window. His heart was racing again.”
“There you are.” Viala pokes her head in the small water closet behind Tharios. “Is this one of those showers you told me about? I hope our chamber has one.”
Tharios wraps his arm around her. “If you like it, maybe I can attempt to construct one for you when we return to Lostariel.”
Viala smiles adoringly up at him, and Cerian rolls his eyes.
If Tharios and Viala managed to find love after their own arranged binding three years ago, surely there’s hope for Elowyn and Prince Rominy. Elowyn’s brow wrinkles. As long as she doesn’t scare off her soon-to-be binding partner first.
“Your mother is settled in her bed,” Viala says, and guilt plagues Elowyn.
She was so excited to see everything that she forgot all about her mother.
At least Mother will have Viala as she recovers from her weakness once the heartbinding is complete.
Viala’s a better caregiver than Elowyn could ever hope to be, anyway.
“Is there a reason you’re all congregating in Elowyn’s water closet?” Pera’s voice rings out from the other room.
“We’re all just watching Elowyn be Elowyn,” Tharios says affectionately.
“Ah. I see,” Pera says. “I’d like to speak with you all before we retire, if I may.”
They file into the sitting room of Elowyn’s chamber, and Pera lays his hands on Elowyn’s shoulders as he searches her eyes. “Are you all right? This day didn’t go at all as we anticipated.”
“I’m fine. I think. Though I suspect I overwhelmed the prince on the train.”
“You need to give him time to adjust, El. This arrangement has taken him by surprise.”
Elowyn nods. “I’ll try not to frighten him.”
“He did seem quite flustered when he fled the train,” Viala says with a laugh.
“I hope I didn’t scare him off completely.”
“As I said, give him time. I have little doubt he’ll grow to treasure you, as we all do.” Pera pulls Elowyn close and squeezes her shoulders before turning to Cerian. “What of you? Your princess seemed quiet on the train ride.”
“She’s not my—” Cerian bites his tongue at Pera’s look and clears his throat. “We spoke some. She thought she needed my permission to bring her horse to Lostariel.”
“She’ll need time to adjust as well. Our customs differ from theirs.”
Cerian nods. “I seem to have promised her some sort of...bridal wardrobe when we arrive in Celesta.”
“A bridal wardrobe?” Elowyn frowns. “Is that a thing?”
Cerian shrugs. “She spoke of giving you the glut of human gowns her mother commissioned so she wouldn’t have to bring them to Lostariel.”
“Really? That was kind of her. Did you see how full their skirts are?” Elowyn spins. “Imagine how they must twirl on the dance floor.”
Cerian’s brows draw together. “Will there be dancing at this...wedding?”
“I hope so.” Elowyn takes his hands and tries to swing him in a circle, but when he pushes her off, she reaches for Tharios instead.
Tharios laughs. “I’ll be dizzy if you keep this up.”
With a sigh, Elowyn lets him go and drops to a nearby sofa.
“We should all get some rest,” Pera says. “I’ve been informed that we’ll meet to discuss the details of the ceremony in the morning. Sleep well, my elflings.”
One by one, or two, in the case of Tharios and Viala, Elowyn’s family files into the corridor. As soon as they’re gone, she locks the door and hurries back to the water closet to experience the indoor rain in all its steamy glory.
Discarding her dirt-crusted travel clothes, she twists the knob on the left as Tharios suggested.
Soon, steam fills the tiny enclosure, and she frowns.
That’s too hot. With her dual affinities for fire and water, she’s quite familiar with steam.
Not that steam will hurt her. Her fire magic protects her from the heat.
She probably doesn’t need to use such hot water, though.
She adds cold water as well, and soon, the most glorious stream of perfectly hot water flows from the nozzle above.
Biting her lip, she steps into the imitation rain and emits a sigh that’s half moan.
Warm water massages her scalp and shoulders as it runs in rivulets down her body to a drain in the floor at her feet.
The water soothes her magic as she simply exists in the beautiful, relaxing stream. Mother would love this. Hopefully, someone will help her experience it. Pera has probably already thought of it—he’s always so attentive to Mother’s needs. Especially when it comes to replenishing her magic stores.
By the time Elowyn turns off the water and reaches for one of the fluffy towels, her fingers have turned into prunes, but she feels fabulously fresh and relaxed.
Hopefully, Prince Rominy’s chamber has a shower as well.