Episode 28 Unexpected Events
Unexpected Events
Arisanna takes in the bed around her. She’s the only one lying in it, though it’s easily big enough for two.
Is she happy? Disappointed? A little of both? She doesn’t want to sleep beside Cerian, though, does she? Not yet, anyway.
Still. He looked so peaceful when he was asleep on the observation deck of the astronomy tower. That wasn’t an unpleasant way to wake—with him beside her.
Maybe someday. Especially with the way he was looking at her in the heartlanding.
She bites her lip at the thought.
Once the dizziness passes, she pushes herself into a sitting position and jumps when her eyes alight on his dark hair and pointed ears.
She’s not alone. Did he sleep in that chair all night? Why would he sleep in a chair? Surely he has his own bed.
For a moment, they stare at each other.
They were just together in the heartlanding. Why is everything awkward again?
“Good morning,” she eventually whispers.
“Good morning.” He sits straighter and masks a yawn with his hand.
The hand she held for hours. Sort of. That hand was a construct of the heartlanding, of course. This one is real.
“Why are you sleeping in a chair?” she pushes through the awkwardness to ask.
He takes a moment to answer. “I wasn’t sure you wanted me in the bed with you.”
She glances around again. Books. A wardrobe. Carved wooden figures. Or are they magic-grown?
Stars above. This is his chamber.
This is his bed.
“You asked me not to leave you last night,” he says quietly. “You panicked when I let go of you. So my mother and grandmother put you in here.”
Those faint memories were real.
They were together for hours in the heartlanding while she slept in his bed in the real world. And he said nothing.
Why didn’t he at least warn her? Maybe he thought she knew?
Her memories from last night are so fuzzy, though.
“You don’t remember any of this, do you?” he asks.
“I...sort of remember. Vaguely. Some things. Did you...did you carry me?”
Is he blushing? That’s probably a yes. And she begged him not to leave her?
“I’m...sorry.” He sounds as if he’s choking on the words. “I thought...” Abruptly, he pushes to his feet. “I’ll go.”
He thought...he thought what?
“Cerian, wait.”
He stills with his hand on the door as she mulls everything over. He carried her when she was too weak to stand? Gave her his bed when he must have been exhausted, too? Slept in a chair all night because she begged him to stay with her?
When she doesn’t respond, he glances back at her. A trace of vulnerability lines his eyes, and an ache she can barely define squeezes her chest.
“Thank you,” she whispers.
“For what? For leaving? My grandmother set aside a room for you in this wing before we left to collect you. I’ll make sure it’s ready for you tonight.”
She frowns. “That’s not what I—”
But he’s gone, closing the door behind him.
What just happened?
Cerian flexes his fists. What did he expect? That she’d wake up and...what? Whatever she was feeling last night, she’s clearly not feeling it now.
And why does it matter? He doesn’t want her in his chamber.
And he definitely doesn’t want her in his bed.
Whistling wind. She was feeding him from her hand mere moments ago. And the worst part is he was enjoying it.
“I missed so much of your elfling years, my littlest love.”
Cerian stills at his mother’s voice. When he snaps his head toward the sound, she’s studying him from across the corridor, stronger than ever. It’s astounding.
“You look like you have a few demons to slay, Cerian.” She steps toward him, a hint of teasing in her eyes.
“Mother, you—”
“Look strong? I feel strong. I feel like myself again. Thanks to you.” She draws him into her arms, and something shatters inside him. All his life, he’s watched her survive. Seeing her now, like the Nestraya of legend—strong and powerful and confident—is surreal.
And he clings to her.
“What demons plague you, my littlest love?” she murmurs as he buries his face in her shoulder, but he can’t even begin to respond.
What’s wrong with him? He’s stronger than this.
“Come on,” she says softly. “Let’s go slay these demons together.”
He looks up at her, quickly wiping away the mortifying dampness seeping from his eyes. “What?”
“Your father has claimed for years that you could best me with your plant magic if you wanted to, and I’m eager to find out if he’s right.”
Cerian shakes his head. “I don’t—”
“What? Did you have other plans? I imagine if you did, you’d still be in there with Arisanna rather than out here with me. Is she all right?”
Is she? He glances back at the door.
“I promise you’ll survive without her for an hour as long as we don’t go too far. Come on.” Mother pulls him down the corridor before he can respond to her absurd statement.
Of course he’ll be fine without Arisanna. Whatever he was feeling last night was just exhaustion, as it was for her.
“I’ve never sensed your affinities with my life magic before,” Mother says as she drags him away from his chamber and Arisanna. “Your plant magic is powerful. I can barely discern your fire magic around it.”
“Tharios says the same thing.” Cerian glances back at the corridor as Mother pulls him around the corner.
Arisanna will be fine. Right?
“How’s your fire magic doing?” Mother asks, and he swings his gaze back to her, eyeing her warily.
“It’s fine. Why wouldn’t it be?”
“No reason. Here we are.” She pushes open the door to the practice arena, revealing the miniature forest, with its trees and dirt and a gurgling creek.
He’s spent hours upon hours in this room, practicing with Father and with trainers. Occasionally, Tharios and Elowyn joined him, though Father usually only let the three of them spar together if they were on the same team.
He doesn’t like them to compete too much.
But the one person he’s never faced in here is Mother. She’s never been strong enough.
Until now.
She retrieves a pair of wooden bowls from nearby and hands one to him. “Eat up.”
He looks down at the nut and berry mixture. Was she planning this all along?
“How did you know?” he asks as she munches on her own plant foods to pre-fill her magic stores.
“That you’d need to let off some steam this morning?
I may not have been as active in your childhood as your father was, Cerian, but I still know my elflings well.
I see the most of myself in you.” She looks up at the tree-grown roof high overhead and laughs.
“‘He’s just like you, Nestraya.’ How many times your father has told me that. ‘He has your eyes and your spirit.’”
“He says that?”
“All the time. Now eat. If we grow cranky and murder each other, your father will never forgive me.”
Cerian takes a handful of the berry mixture. “Does he know we’re here?”
“He believes I’m resting. I chose not to relieve him of that assumption.”
Cerian stares at her. Who is this woman, and what happened to his mother?
“Eat,” she admonishes again.
As he drops a berry on his tongue, thoughts of Arisanna fill his head. The way her fingers brushed his lip as she fed him in the heartlanding. Her willingness to care for his magic like that.
Maybe he should check on her. She was about to say something when he left. Why didn’t he hear her out first?
He was embarrassed and disappointed. That’s why.
He can’t run from her, though. As he stands here, munching on nuts and berries, remembering the way she smiled up at him when he asked the heartlanding to brighten the sky, a startling realization overtakes him.
He doesn’t want to run from her.
Whistling wind.
It’s overwhelming and disconcerting and undeniable.
And absolutely terrifying. Whatever is happening to him is more frightening than anything else he’s ever faced.
“Cerian.” Mother’s hand on his arm startles him back to reality.
When did he turn toward the door?
“Are you thinking about her?” Mother asks softly.
Frustrated, he groans. “I can barely think of anything else. Is this how you feel?”
“At times. It’s stronger in the beginning when you’re learning to see each other differently.”
“What does that mean?”
“The heartbinding won’t make you fall in love. It will just help you see all the reasons you might want to.”
Cerian looks away. “I’m not falling in—”
“You will.”
Whistling wind. He doesn’t wish to discuss this with his mother.
He doesn’t wish to discuss it with anyone.
He’d run if it was anyone but her.
Before he can respond, a vine wraps around his ankle and rips his feet out from under him as Mother grabs the bowl from his hands.
He lands hard on his back, and Mother sets aside the bowls as he struggles to breathe.
That was a cheap shot. She didn’t even warn him.
She smiles down at him. “You may have my eyes, my elfling, but that look you’re sending me is pure Lorial. Don’t act so surprised. I was once a First among warriors, don’t forget. I won’t go easy on you.”
Then vines latch on to all four of his limbs, ratcheting him into the air, where he hovers, fighting for control.
He stares at her in shock. She’s stronger than any plant wielder he’s ever faced.
“I’ve watched you spar, Cerian. You can do better than this. Show me that magic you’re hiding from the world.”
“I’m not hiding.”
“Aren’t you? Your father thinks you are. He says you’re capable of more than you let on.”
“What? I’m not hiding anything.”
But she doesn’t respond. Her vines lift him higher and higher until he hovers near the ceiling.
And then she drops him.