Episode 65 My Everything
My Everything
“I need a full report,” Tharios says as he drops to Elowyn’s side. “And light.”
A lantern is brought closer, and Tharios reaches for Elowyn’s wrist before jerking back. “Whistling wind. She’s always spiked impressive fevers, but that’s hot even for her. I’m going to need Father and Cerian. And Mother, too.”
“We’re here. Tell us what to do,” King Lorial says as Rominy presses himself against the wall, out of the way.
“I can’t touch her. Mother, can you try to lower her fever enough for me to examine her?”
Queen Nestraya, whom Rominy barely recognizes, hovers her palms over Elowyn’s forehead and upper chest, and Rominy can’t even begin to guess what she’s doing.
“Someone give me a report,” Tharios says again. “How did she get like this?”
Rominy finds his tongue. “Someone threw a rock at her, and Dr. Fulton stitched the wound closed.”
King Lorial’s gaze burns into Rominy, and Rominy shrinks.
Then Elowyn’s words echo in his head.
Not your fault.
It feels like his fault.
A hand slips into his, and he turns to see Arisanna standing beside him.
He almost loses it right there.
But he needs to be strong for Elowyn.
“You sewed her flesh?” Tharios asks in thinly veiled horror.
Dr. Fulton finally speaks up. “It’s standard practice for a wound that won’t stop bleeding, Your Highness.”
Tharios mutters a string of unidentifiable words in Elvish, and Rominy leans toward Arisanna. “What did he say?”
“You don’t want to know.”
“Where is her wound?” Tharios asks in Nunian. Then he curses again. “She’s so hot.”
“I’m trying to bring down her fever, but her fire magic is impossible,” Queen Nestraya says. “I knew it was strong, but I had no idea it was this powerful.”
“Her right arm,” Dr. Fulton says before Rominy can find his tongue.
Tharios glances at King Lorial. “Father—”
“I’ve got it.” King Lorial turns her arm gently, and she moans. His fire magic must protect him from her heat.
“Cerian, I need more light.”
Is Cerian in here?
A series of magic orb lights fly from beside Arisanna to illuminate the boxcar in near-blinding brightness.
“Sorry,” Cerian murmurs as the light dims.
He sounds as terrified as Rominy feels.
Tharios hisses as he looks at Elowyn’s arm. “That’s what I was afraid of.”
“What?” Rominy asks.
“She’s in shock.” Tharios switches to rapid Elvish, and Rominy’s head spins trying to parse the Elvish words. To his relief, Arisanna quietly translates the important parts as Tharios works.
“He thinks the heartbinding saved her,” Arisanna whispers.
“Will she be all right?”
“He hasn’t said. But...he knows what he’s doing. She’s in good hands.”
It’s a small comfort, but a comfort nonetheless.
Watching Tharios work makes Rominy dizzy. The elven prince moves fast, though what exactly he’s doing remains a mystery. He occasionally holds still with his hands on Elowyn’s arm, concentrating on something. He must be scalding his hands every time he touches her.
Queen Nestraya speaks to Tharios in Elvish, and he fires back in response. When Rominy turns to Arisanna, she’s breathing rapidly, and Cerian seems to be barely holding himself together.
“Tell me,” Rominy says.
Arisanna looks at him with wide eyes as her lips move, but no sound comes out.
“Please,” he begs her.
“She said he’s working faster than Elowyn’s body can keep up, and...and...”
“And what?”
“And he said if he slows down, she won’t make it.”
Bile rises in Rominy’s throat, and his knees refuse to support his weight as he collapses against the wall, sliding to the floor.
Elowyn convulses, and Rominy can’t get enough air, no matter how hard he tries.
Is she dying? Are they both dying?
“Get his heart rate down now!” Tharios cries, and suddenly Queen Nestraya is kneeling in front of him.
“We’re going to count backward from ten, all right, my youngling?” she says softly as she puts her hands at the sides of his head and looks into his eyes. A slight tingling sensation hits his skin beneath her palms.
She starts counting, and he pushes through the panic to join her. For Elowyn. He can do this for Elowyn. He has to do this for Elowyn. By the time he gets to five, his tongue can barely form the words.
What did she do to him?
Whatever it was, it took the edge off his panic. It’s not as hard to breathe.
“Arisanna,” the queen whispers, “sit here with him, all right? Keep talking to him. He might be dizzy for a few minutes, but it should pass soon.”
Arisanna lowers herself to his side and reaches for his hand again. She keeps glancing nervously at Cerian as well.
Trying to care for everyone at once. That sounds like Sanna.
“You should see Windhaven,” she says softly. “It’s as amazing as it always sounded. Cerian and I are...we’re going to make our home there.”
Her familiar voice is calming, though it’s obvious she’s trying to distract him. At least it gives him something other than the terror filling him to focus on.
“And after Elowyn gets better, I want you to come visit,” Arisanna says. “You have to meet Cook. Cook loves me.”
He chuckles weakly at that.
“Well, Cook loves Cerian,” Arisanna continues. “I think she’d love anyone who made Cerian smile. She seems fond of me, though.”
“She is,” Cerian says as he brushes back a wisp of her hair.
Stars above. Is Cerian in love with Arisanna?
Elowyn will be ecstatic.
The thought makes his heart ache for her all over again, but whatever the queen did to him seems to be holding his panic at bay, for the most part. It’s still there, tickling the edges of his mind, latching on to his fears. But he can resist it better now.
And he needs to fight it. He needs to keep his heart steady. For Elowyn.
“I’d like that,” Rominy pushes out past his thick tongue. “I want to meet Grandmera, too.”
“She’s here. She wouldn’t take no for an answer this time,” Cerian says.
“She sounds stubborn. Like Elowyn,” Rominy whispers.
“All the women in my family are stubborn,” Cerian says under his breath.
Tharios is speaking again, and Rominy tries to pick out familiar words, but the elf prince talks so fast it’s impossible to keep up.
“He’s giving their parents an update and...and a prognosis,” Arisanna whispers. Her tone does little to reassure Rominy, but Elowyn’s heart echoes in his chest as the memory of her voice fills his head, telling him to breathe, and he breathes. If breathing will save her, he’ll breathe.
After Queen Nestraya responds in Elvish, Arisanna whispers, “She’s telling him to speak to you because...because...”
“Because Elowyn is my everything.” His voice cracks, and Arisanna gasps softly and nods.
“I-I believe her words were binding partner, but...yes. You love her, don’t you? Desperately. Until you can’t remember who you were without her?”
Rominy looks into Arisanna’s eyes, but before he can respond, Tharios is kneeling beside him. He looks pale and sunken.
“Is she all right?” Rominy asks.
“I need you to keep your heart steady, Rominy. For Elowyn. Can you do that?”
“I’m trying.”
“I know. You’re doing well.”
“Is she all right, though? She must be, right? I’m still here.”
Tharios sighs. “I’ve stabilized her. But she’s very ill. You understand that, don’t you?”
Words stick in Rominy’s throat, and he nods.
“Elves heal differently from humans,” Tharios continues. “We are very sensitive to foreign debris within wounds. Usually, it’s beneficial as the body detects the foreign object and closes around it while it absorbs and removes the substance.”
“You mean the stitches?” Dr. Fulton asks from nearby. “Forgive me for hurting her. Had I known—”
“You had no way of knowing. We don’t blame you,” Tharios says quickly.
“And the stitches themselves shouldn’t have hurt most elves.
The healing process would have dealt with them easily enough.
But Elowyn’s fire magic is so strong that she’s always spiked a fever at the smallest thing, and if her fever grew too hot too quickly, her body may have overestimated the danger of the stitches and sent her into shock. ”
“She’s been running hot a lot lately,” Rominy says, and the ghost of a smile crosses Tharios’s face.
“This is not your fault, Rominy. Please don’t blame yourself.
It could have been something as simple as a bit of contaminated debris within the wound that pushed her body to react the way it did to the stitches.
It’s something elven healers are trained to watch for in our fire-wielding patients.
And it’s completely normal and expected for Elowyn’s fire magic to run hot around you.
I will need you to try not to set her on fire until she’s fully recovered, though. ”
Rominy pushes through the embarrassing part of that statement to the part Tharios implied but didn’t outright say.
“F-fully recovered? You mean she’ll be all right?”
“I can’t promise that. But I am hopeful.
Elowyn is a fighter. She’s strong. If anyone can pull through this, she can.
Especially since she has a human prince depending on her not to die.
She murmured your name more than once while I was treating her.
I think you’ve made quite the impression on my sister. ”
Tharios smiles weakly, and Rominy’s brow creases. Is he all right?
“We need to keep your strength up,” Queen Nestraya says to Tharios.
“I want to get Elowyn settled. Then I’ll rest, Mother. I promise.”
“Let me heal your hands first.”
As Tharios extends his palms, Rominy’s stomach lurches. The elf prince’s hands are covered in blisters.
He did that for Elowyn.
“Thank you,” Rominy says hoarsely.
“You are not the only one who loves Elowyn,” Tharios murmurs. “Thank you for getting her to me quickly.”
Swallowing, Rominy nods. “Can I see her?”
“After we move her,” Tharios says. “How much does she know? Have you met her in the heartlanding?”
Rominy nods.
“And she was herself? Her mind is well?”
Memories of her laughter and her smile, her lips and her skin against his, her softness beneath his wandering hands, the heat in her gaze and the yearning in her voice as she whispered in his ear fill his head, and he rubs his eyes.
“She was well. The magic...I can’t—”
“That’s fine, Rominy,” Tharios says. “Once we get her settled, I can help you sleep if you want to talk to her again. Encourage her to keep fighting.”
The thought of seeing Elowyn speeds up his heart, and he struggles to breathe through it.
“Slowly, in and out, my youngling,” Queen Nestraya says. “Just as Elowyn taught you. You’re doing fine.”
His pulse slows again, and the beating of Elowyn’s heart is there, wrapped up in his. Steady and familiar.
“Yes.” Rominy’s voice is quiet, even to his own ears. “I want to be with Elowyn again.”