Episode 13 This Is Totally Normal
This Is Totally Normal
When Arisanna spots Cerian standing in the doorway, she blushes, and without speaking, he leaves again.
What was that about? And where are her other nightgowns? The solid ones that go all the way to her throat? This can’t be the only sleeping gown the maid left for her, can it? She eyes the wardrobe again, but nothing else magically appears.
Stars above.
Maybe she’ll sleep in her shift.
As if that’s much better.
She quickly returns the lacy fabric to the wardrobe and takes a deep breath.
It’s not a big deal. She’ll figure out something.
Or her new husband will suddenly turn amorous, and the sheer gown will fit right into the night’s activities. Judging by Cerian’s quick exit, that seems unlikely.
Small mercies.
She steps toward the outer room again to find Cerian looking out the window. Something about the stiff way he carries himself as he stands there tugs at her heart, encouraging her to move closer to him.
Is that the heartbinding influencing her?
Unsure what else to do, she gives in to the urge and approaches him. “Are you all right?”
With a glance over his shoulder at her, he nods. Apparently, he doesn’t feel like talking.
She follows his gaze toward the eastern horizon, where stars are just beginning to appear in the darkening sky.
“It’s a beautiful night,” she says. “A good night for stargazing.”
“The stars are difficult to see from the Wildthorne Woods,” he whispers. “The trees are too tall and too plentiful.”
There’s a wistful note in his voice, and his words give her an idea.
“Would you like to climb the astronomy tower with me? There’s a telescope and an observation deck where we could gaze at the night sky.”
That got his attention. For the first time since they met, he looks excited.
“You wouldn’t mind?”
“Not at all.”
Anything is better than standing alone together in awkward silence while wondering what the night will hold.
He glances at her gown and frowns. “You should change into something else.”
“Hmm. Yes. That may be a problem.”
Unless he expects her to go stargazing in lacy negligee.
His brows wrinkle. “What sort of problem?”
“There aren’t a lot of...options to choose from.”
He deflates a little. “Perhaps another time.”
She eyes him thoughtfully and taps her chin, and he frowns.
“Did you bring extra clothing?” she asks.
“Yes...” He draws out the word. “Though my clothes from yesterday smell like a horse.”
“They probably got washed,” she murmurs. “I overheard someone talking about washing the elves’ clothing before tomorrow’s departure. Come on.”
Warily, he follows her into his inner chamber as she scans the room for his clothes. They weren’t in the wardrobe with hers. Perhaps a drawer?
Lying neatly folded in the top drawer of the bureau are his freshly laundered clothes from yesterday, along with the clothing he was wearing this morning.
She turns to look at him. “Do you mind if I wear your clothes? If I get my travel dress wrinkled before we even leave, Mother will fuss. And the other gown...isn’t fit for stargazing.”
He stares at her for a few moments. What’s going through his head? Hopefully, he’s not having second thoughts about stargazing as he imagines her in that sheer nightgown.
“You may wear my things if you think they’ll fit you,” he eventually says.
That’s a relief. She might have to cinch the waist on his trousers, but anything would be an improvement over what she’s wearing now.
Then something occurs to her.
She can’t reach the buttons running down her back.
Stars above, this night is destined to be filled with one awkward moment after another. She’d call for a maid, but that seems even worse.
It is her wedding night, after all. What would the maid think?
Of course, this is an arranged marriage, not a love match. Surely no one expects her to crawl into Cerian’s bed the day after they met.
Someone did leave that nightgown, though.
No. It would be best to avoid the maid.
“I might need help.” She tries to sound as practical and unruffled as possible.
His eyes swing toward hers. “Help?”
“With the buttons on the back of my gown.”
His gaze strays to her back, and he swallows. “All right.”
He assented far too easily to that. Hopefully, he’s just trying to be helpful. He was really excited to go stargazing.
Pretending this is totally normal, she turns her back toward him and clutches her gown to her chest. No need for any unplanned theatrical reveals. She had enough of that in their heartlanding.
When his hands brush the skin at the edge of her gown, an unexpected shiver races down her spine, but she tries to ignore it as he methodically works his way through the tiny buttons to her lower back. For once, she’s glad for the extra layers beneath her dress.
“This looks extremely uncomfortable,” he says. “You should leave it behind when we depart tomorrow.”
“My stays?”
“Aptly named. They will stay behind.”
Was that a joke? She glances over her shoulder at him just as he finishes with the last real button.
“The rest of the buttons are fake,” she says, and he frowns again.
“Human clothing boggles the mind. Is that the correct phrasing?”
She laughs. “Yes, it is, and yes, it does. Could you loosen the laces? I should be able to manage the rest myself.”
If she doesn’t die from mortification first. Or he doesn’t. Of course, then they would both die.
He exhales slowly and tugs at the laces while she maintains a death-grip on the front of her gown. As soon as the stays are loose, he disappears, closing the door behind him.
That wasn’t awkward at all. Exactly the sort of wedding night every woman dreams of—her husband running at the sight of her shift.
Of course, the alternative isn’t high on her list of things she wants to do tonight, so she’s not complaining. And he didn’t so much run as leave to give her privacy.
Which she should put to good use before he returns
Quickly, she strips out of her many layers, leaving a mound of white on the floor, and reaches for his shirt first. It’s made of some sort of linen from the feel of it. The sleeves are long, and it hangs on her, but it should serve its purpose well enough.
The trousers are another story. Cerian is smaller than Rominy, but he’s still much thicker and taller than Arisanna is. Maybe this was a foolhardy plan.
She glances at her traveling attire in the wardrobe again. Perhaps she should risk Mother’s displeasure. Does it really matter if her clothing is wrinkled or not?
She worries her lower lip for a minute as she considers her options. Then she shrugs and finds a sash from her pile of white fabric to tie the trousers in place. When she’s done, they’re baggy, but they seem snug enough not to fall off.
Next, she slips the leather vest over her arms and frowns at the clasps. They cross and buckle in a strange pattern. She could ask Cerian to help, but that sounds just as awkward as asking him to unbutton her gown was.
After a bit of fussing with it, the vest seems fastened well enough. It will have to do. She rolls all the cuffs up before fetching her boots and cloak from the wardrobe.
Cerian probably wants to change out of his wedding finery, too.
Arisanna clasps her cloak at her throat and carries her boots with her to the door. “I’m ready,” she says as she lets herself into the other room again.
Cerian sits at the hearth, hurling fireballs the way he did earlier. That must be what he does to calm himself when he’s distressed. He glances up at her, but her cloak covers most of his clothing.
“Do you want to change, too?” she asks as she hugs her boots to her chest.
Without a word, he hops to his feet and disappears while she laces up her boots. He’s quicker than she was, and he soon reappears with his own cloak in place.
“Ready?” he asks.
“We should bring blankets. It can get cold on the observation deck. There should be some in the chest at the foot of the bed.”
He nods and returns to his inner chamber before emerging with an armful of blankets. “Is this enough?”
They could probably construct a cozy pallet for two with that many blankets, but Arisanna pushes the thought from her mind.
“That should be plenty. Let’s go.” Grabbing a kerosene lamp to light the stairs to the astronomy tower, she gingerly pushes open the door and glances up and down the corridor, but it’s empty. “Come on.”