Episode 6
You Smell Like a Horse
Cerian tosses and turns half the night before tugging a blanket off the too-soft bed and curling up on the rug in front of the hearth instead. He wakes to Tharios staring down at him.
“Did no one explain to you which piece of furniture is the bed?”
Cerian glares at his brother.
Tharios just grins. “Or were you practicing for tonight when your princess relegates you to the floor?”
Cerian groans and pulls the blanket over his head.
“Come on, little brother. Your presence is required at the meeting to discuss the ceremony, and you need to wash up first. You’re binding with a princess today, and you smell like a horse.”
“Funny.”
Tharios crosses his arms. “You actually do smell like a horse.”
“Fine. I’m up. Now leave me alone.” Cerian balls up the blanket and throws it on the bed.
Tharios nods. “I’ll be back in thirty minutes to collect you. At least try to make an effort today.”
After his brother is gone, Cerian grumbles to himself as he approaches the water closet and eyes the shower enclosure in the corner. It’s identical to the one in Elowyn’s chamber.
Rain inside. He shakes his head. As he steps into the warm stream, he just lets the water wash over him for a few minutes.
This is actually kind of pleasant. Not that he’ll give either of his siblings the satisfaction of hearing him admit it. It’s a lot easier to wash his long hair this way, too.
Maybe he’ll ask Tharios to put one of these showers in his own set of rooms. For the human princess, of course. She’d probably appreciate the comforts she’s used to at home.
Ugh. He groans and leans his hand against the wall as water streams down his face. All his life, he’s known this day was coming. It always seemed like some far-off thing—a problem for his future self.
Well, the future is here.
And his future self is no more eager to bind with a human than his past self was.
But he agreed. At least he can thank Father for giving him the opportunity to say no.
Not that it was much of a choice. This is best for Lostariel. Best for Mother and for his entire family.
He was born to sustain Princess Arisanna’s heart through the heartbinding and bring peace in the process. It’s his purpose in life.
With a sigh, he turns off the water and dresses in the only set of clothes he brought aside from his formal attire for the ceremony and the clothing he was wearing earlier. Tharios was right. They smell like a horse.
He combs out his long, dark hair, wishing once again that he had air magic like Father and Tharios. Or Elowyn’s water magic to simply remove the dampness. Then he wouldn’t have to arrive at this meeting with wet hair.
Of course, his magic is far more useful in the woods. The ability to manipulate fire and plants is a rare magical combination among elves, though plant magic by itself is prolific enough.
Most elves only have one type of magic. Dual magic wielders are rare outside nobility and royalty.
Those with three affinities are practically unheard of.
Mother is the only elf Cerian has ever met who can wield three kinds of magic.
And Tharios, of course. He inherited his third affinity from Mother.
Viala can outdo them all, though. She just thinks it, and it happens. Air, soil, water, plants, fire, healing—she can master them all.
The Lothlesi are a formidable race. Or the mountain fae, as some people call them.
There’s a knock at the door, and Tharios pokes his head in the room again. “Excellent progress. Would you like me to dry your hair?”
Cerian scowls at his reflection in the mirror and nearly refuses before sighing and nodding. He stands still as Tharios forces a steady stream of warm air over his hair, and soon the dampness is gone.
“Thank you,” he mumbles.
Tharios pats his shoulder and nods. “Let’s go.”
Rominy resists the urge to pace Father’s study as he waits with Father for the elves to arrive. Mother has been rushing all over the castle since well before dawn doing who knows what while Arisanna trails in her wake, trying to keep Mother calm.
They should be here soon, though.
Rominy woke to banging around in the second bedchamber attached to his sitting room this morning. Servants preparing the space for Princess Elowyn—his future wife.
What even are elven customs surrounding sleeping arrangements among royalty? He’d ask Arisanna if he could corner her somewhere private, but Mother shows every sign of monopolizing Arisanna’s morning.
Would his sister even know the answer? It seems like an awkward topic to discuss with her tutors. Or with him.
He doesn’t want to offend Princess Elowyn, though.
To that end, he should probably apologize for running from her last night.
The door opens, and Rominy’s heart threatens to leap from his chest, but it’s only Arisanna and Mother.
“It will be fine,” Arisanna says, and Mother just looks at the ceiling and wrings her hands with an anxious sigh.
Father looks up from his desk. “What’s the matter, my dear?”
Mother waves her hand, but no words come out.
“The servants put Prince Tharios and his wife in the chamber reserved for him,” Arisanna says.
Father’s brow wrinkles. “And the problem?”
“He was assigned that chamber because he was supposed to be the bridegroom.”
Rominy scratches his head. “I still don’t see the problem. Does it matter who gets which chamber?”
Arisanna clears her throat as her cheeks turn pink. “Prince Cerian was given a smaller chamber. One with a single bedroom attached.”
Before anyone can respond, the door opens to reveal the elven delegation, and Rominy moves behind his father’s desk to make more room as Father stands.
“Welcome, Lorial. I trust your accommodations were satisfactory for the night?”
Mother barely swallows a wail in the far corner of the small room.
“Very much. My kin thank you for your hospitality.”
Rominy seeks out Princess Elowyn where she stands slightly behind her father. She wears a kind smile as she returns his gaze. Hopefully, that means she won’t hold his moment of panic last night against him.
As he watches her, she takes a deep breath through her nose and exhales through her mouth before lifting her brows at him. Does she want him to copy her?
He takes his own deep breath, but she shakes her head and demonstrates again.
This time, he copies her more closely, slowing his movements and matching her breaths. Her smile grows, and she nods.
He actually feels calmer now.
“Forgive me, but that is unacceptable,” King Lorial says, and Rominy turns his attention back to the conversation at hand.
What’s unacceptable?
“Of course the ceremony must occur in the assembly room,” Mother says from the corner. “We’ve invited a great many guests to witness this monumental event. No other gathering place will hold so many attendees.”
The elves whisper among themselves, and Rominy glances at Arisanna, who shrugs.
King Lorial turns back to Father as Rominy notes the absence of the elf queen. Perhaps she’s saving her strength for later.
“A binding ceremony is an...intimate affair,” King Lorial says. “Especially a heartbinding. It is not a public exhibition.”
Rominy’s heart accelerates again, but he feels Princess Elowyn’s efforts to calm him and looks at her as she encourages him to take slower breaths.
Stars above, she’s probably spent half her life breathing slowly for him while he was oblivious to her existence.
Father studies King Lorial. “When you say...intimate—”
“It is a binding of hearts and souls and magic,” the elf king explains. “It can be disorienting for the couple. Especially as your children are not elves, it may be particularly overwhelming.”
Great. What in the world has Rominy agreed to?
Prince Tharios whispers in his wife’s ear, and she nods.
“If I may,” Princess Viala says softly in the Elvish tongue. Does she not speak Nunian? “Perhaps two...would be appropriate as...when Tharios and I...”
Rominy only catches some of her words. She has a slight accent, and his Elvish is apparently mediocre at best.
“My binding partner suggests two ceremonies,” Prince Tharios translates. “As we did when she and I wed to honor both our people’s traditions.”
“Is this acceptable to you?” King Lorial asks.
Father looks toward Mother.
“Two ceremonies will do,” she says.
Prince Cerian’s scowl returns. He actually looked...well, far from pleased, but at least he wasn’t glowering when he entered the room.
“Perhaps the elven heartbinding can take place between the human ceremony and the wedding feast,” Father suggests. “Unless you recommend a longer time to recover?”
“A half hour total should suffice.”
“Very well,” Mother says. “We should discuss the particulars of both ceremonies...”
Her words fade to a corner of Rominy’s mind as he finds Princess Elowyn’s eyes again, and the elf princess’s smile grows when their gazes meet.
Maybe this heartbinding thing won’t be so bad.