Episode 48
Just Knock
Cerian gazes down the corridor before glancing at his parents’ chamber door. Where would Father be right now?
What time is it even? He didn’t bother to check while he and Arisanna were laughing and talking and feeding each other sweet bread.
Outside the window, light casts short, dappled shadows west. It must be mid-morning.
Father’s probably in his study.
Cerian wanders down the corridor away from the royal family’s private wing, and his stomach knots at the thought of approaching Father about any of this.
But what choice does he have unless he wants to accidentally burn Arisanna again or catch her with a rogue fireball?
It’s to keep her safe. That’s all.
When he reaches his father’s study, he pauses outside the door. He can do this. Just open the door and...what? Tell Father his fire magic is out of control?
The thought fills him with so much dread his feet itch to run. To carry him away from this conversation. From this day.
But he owes Arisanna better than that.
If she can leave behind everything, he can open this door and speak with his father.
Just...knock. He just needs to lift his hand and knock.
Before he can convince his arm to do anything useful, the door swings open, and Father’s First among warriors almost runs into Cerian.
“Whistling wind, Cerian. I didn’t expect you to be standing there.”
Cerian opens his mouth, but no words come.
“Bring your princess by my office sometime, all right?” Corivos says as he claps Cerian on the shoulder. “I’d love to practice my Nunian with a native speaker.”
Cerian nods as Corivos takes off down the corridor. At the last minute, Father’s First turns and calls out, “I almost forgot. Happy birthday. And that’s the last I’ll say of it. Have a good day in the woods.”
A smile tugs at Cerian’s lips as Corivos continues on his way.
Corivos knows him too well.
“Did you need something, Cerian?” Father asks from within his study, and the knot in Cerian’s stomach returns as he forces his feet into the room, closing the door behind him.
Father looks up from his desk and smiles.
“I wasn’t sure if we’d see you much today or not.
Cook said she delivered your sweet bread to your chamber this morning. ”
This was a mistake. Cerian fumbles for the door again.
“Before you give in to the urge to flee, why don’t you tell me why you’re here?
” Father says. Cerian stills with his hand on the door, and Father rises from his chair and wanders to the front of his desk, leaning back against the oak surface.
“You can talk to me, my elfling. About anything. I hope you know that.”
As Cerian’s heart pounds, thoughts of Arisanna surface. She must feel his pulse racing in her own ears. The thought both mortifies and comforts him.
“How’s your fire magic?” Father eyes him steadily, and Cerian swallows the lump in his throat, finally finding his voice.
“I keep...losing...”
Father nods. “That’s normal. I had hoped to have this discussion with you ages ago, as we did with Elowyn, but every time I attempted to bring it up, you ran.”
Cerian would deny it, but it’s probably true.
“That said, I was concerned that knowing ahead of time would scare you away from Arisanna,” Father continues.
“Scare me away from her?”
“If you knew losing control of your fire magic might be part of falling in love with her.”
“I’m not—”
Father lifts his brows.
Breathing out slowly, Cerian looks down at his hands. He is falling in love with her. But somehow, being that close to Arisanna seems far less terrifying than it once did.
“So this loss of control...is normal?” Cerian asks.
“For some fire wielders. It is in our family.”
Cerian looks up at that. “Our family?”
“If you believe you’re mortified, imagine how I felt approaching your grandmother with the same questions you have now.”
Grandmera? Whistling wind. Suddenly, speaking to Father doesn’t sound so bad.
“So let me guess,” Father says. “Your palms are tingling a lot?”
Cerian nods, not meeting Father’s gaze.
“And you occasionally shoot fireballs without meaning to?”
When Cerian tries to nod again, he can’t. The magic won’t let him.
That part happened in the heartlanding. Of course he can’t discuss it.
“I don’t want to hurt her,” Cerian whispers, his voice barely audible even to his own ears.
“That’s why I’m going to help you, all right? So no one gets hurt.”
After taking a deep breath, Cerian nods. “What do I do?”
“You need to use your fire magic. A lot. Visit the arena. Work it out of you until your palms don’t grow warm every time she looks your way.”
Don’t run. Don’t run.
“You’re doing fine,” Father says softly. “Remember why you’re here, and we’ll get through this together, all right?”
Reluctantly, Cerian nods again. This is for Arisanna.
“What else?” he asks.
“Water.”
Cerian looks up in surprise. “Water?”
“Yes, water. Rain. A waterfall. The sea or a lake. I don’t know where your heartlanding takes you, but if there’s water, use it.”
Cerian shakes his head. “I don’t understand. I’m not a water wielder.”
Father laughs. “You don’t need to be a water wielder to go in the water. Together.”
Whistling wind. Now would be a good time to run.
Arisanna’s face dances before his eyes, though, and he forces himself not to move.
“Is that all?” he asks quietly.
“It will get easier. You’ll get better at controlling it once everything you’re feeling isn’t so new.”
Cerian breathes out slowly. “So for now, use my fire magic more and...water?”
Father nods.
Well, that’s simple enough.
“How is Arisanna adjusting?” Father asks. “She seems to be handling everything well.”
There’s a smile in Father’s voice, and Cerian crosses his arms. “You mean she’s handling me well.”
Laughing, Father squeezes Cerian’s shoulder. “Those words are yours. Not mine. I’m pleased she’s adjusting, though. Now go enjoy your birthday.”
As Cerian wanders back to his chamber, relief fills him. Thank the fates that’s over.
After slipping through his door, he glances around, but Arisanna isn’t there. She must be in her own room. He pokes his head through the open connecting door, but it’s quiet in there, too. Where did she go?
“Arisanna?”
“Stars above. I thought you’d be gone longer.” She stares at him from the doorway to her water closet as she clutches...what is she wearing? Is that his dressing gown she’s holding closed around her?
And her hair is wet. Did she bathe while he was gone?
Whistling wind. His palms are definitely tingling now.
She tugs the fabric even closer. “I-I hope you don’t mind. I borrowed your robe.”
He shakes his head. “I’m just...I’ll be...”
She nods, and he flies from the room, closing the door connecting their chambers as he goes.
Fire magic. He needs to use his fire magic. Standing in front of his stone-lined hearth, he lobs a steady stream of fireballs into the grate. As the fire flows from him, he relaxes. It is helping.
Which isn’t surprising. It helped in the heartlanding, too. Perhaps if he does it for longer, he’ll be able to stop worrying about setting things on fire every time he thinks about kissing Arisanna.
Perhaps he could actually kiss her.
“Cerian?”
He glances over his shoulder. She stands a few feet behind him, wearing her shimmeron gown again. Her hair is still damp, and thoughts of Father’s words fill him.
Water. Take her in the water.
It’s a good thing he’s already using his fire magic with the heat that thought elicits in him.
“Is that what your father said to do?” she asks, and he turns back to the hearth before nodding as she steps closer. “And is it helping?”
“It seems to be.” After a few more moments, he pulls back and flexes his hands. They feel cooler. How long will it last, though?
“I’m ready to go whenever you are. Do we bring food with us?” Arisanna asks.
“Cook probably packed something already.”
“I’m convinced you just want everyone to think you’re prickly. Deep down, you’re a sweetheart, and the people closest to you know it.”
He looks at her in shock. “I what?”
“You heard me.” She reaches up to press her lips to his cheek.
Whistling wind. He’s not catching fire.
It worked. For now.
“Will you show me your woods now?” Arisanna asks as she threads her fingers between his, and soon he’s leading her out of Windhaven into the Wildthorne Woods.