Episode 135 Flash of Red
Flash of Red
That was easy enough.
Rominy slips back into Elowyn’s hotel room with a set of riding clothes he dug from Viala’s things before one of Lorial’s warrior elves packed it all away for the return to Darlei. Hopefully, Viala won’t mind.
The last thing he wants to deal with on an unfamiliar horse in unfamiliar woods is one of those Nunian skirts.
Elven clothes are so much more practical.
Perhaps he should have borrowed something from Tharios for himself.
Elowyn looks up from her coffee. “All set?”
Her complete faith in him warms his heart. “All set. We’ll ride one of my guard’s horses, and he’ll take Starlight. And I borrowed clothes for you since you gave yours to Sanna.”
Elowyn eyes the clothing. “I may need your help.”
“I assumed you would. Let’s get you dressed now so you can rest before we head out.”
He helps her out of the nightgown and into Viala’s clothes. They’re loose on Elowyn, but even her own clothes would hang on her now. She’s definitely lost weight.
“I think I need to lie down,” she says weakly, and he carries her back to the bed.
“Why don’t you try to sleep?” he suggests. “I’ll wake you when it’s time.”
But her eyes are already closed.
While she rests, he changes into the least formal clothes he packed. He still feels overdressed as he buttons the waistcoat.
He really could use his own elven leathers.
This will have to do for now.
And their trunks will need to be shipped back to Levina.
He does his best to gather everything Elowyn might want to bring, tucking it in the knapsack she brought when she arrived from Lostariel before their wedding. He fills another knapsack he borrowed from one of his men with a few things of his own, slipping the book of fables on top.
Soon, there’s a knock on the door. It’s a hotel servant bearing food. “A last meal before your journey, Your Highness.”
Rominy thanks the man and sets the tray on the table. He glances Elowyn’s way, but she probably needs sleep more than she needs food right now.
He makes quick work of the chicken and potatoes, and as he sets down his fork, another knock sounds.
It’s Jonas this time. “We’re ready to head out, Your Highness. I’ve sent the telegram to your father and arranged for your trunks to be shipped back to Levina. Your horse is saddled and waiting, and everyone else has gathered to depart.”
Rominy nods. “Thank you. We’ll be right there.” He closes the door and returns to Elowyn. “Hey, love. It’s time to go.”
“Already?” she mumbles on a yawn.
“Already. Once we’re on the horse, you can sleep more, all right?”
“But I don’t want to miss your first time in Lostariel.”
“Let’s worry about getting you on that horse first, love.”
He lifts her in his arms. She feels so light here compared to the heartlanding. She really has lost weight.
But she’s alive. That’s what matters.
As his guards surround them, Rominy carries Elowyn to the street outside the hotel, where their borrowed horse awaits. The roan stallion is beautiful and magnificent but well-trained, according to its owner.
Rominy gazes up at the saddle. Now what?
“May I help?” Jonas asks quietly, and Rominy glances at Elowyn before nodding.
“El, I’m going to hand you over to Jonas while I mount, all right?”
She nods, excitement mingling with the exhaustion swimming in her eyes.
Jonas takes her easily, and as Rominy climbs on the horse, she says something to the guard about him going on an adventure.
“That’s exactly why I signed up, Your Highness,” Jonas says, and Rominy chuckles.
“I like you, Jonas,” Elowyn says.
“I’m honored. Let’s get you on that horse so you can rest.”
“I like you less now.”
A full laugh bursts from Rominy at that. With Jonas’s assistance, Rominy reaches down to draw Elowyn onto the horse in front of him.
“Perhaps I should have phrased that differently, Your Highness,” Jonas says. “Let’s get you settled for your grand adventure.”
“Yes, that’s much better.”
Rominy just shakes his head and mouths a thank-you to Jonas, who nods in return.
To Rominy’s surprise, his guards intermingle with Lorial’s elite warriors, operating as one unit. They seem familiar with each other. They must have been interacting the entire time they’ve been here.
It’s heartwarming to see. This is the sort of camaraderie Father was hoping for from their alliance.
Jonas stays near Rominy, but the rest of his men form a joint circle with the elves around what’s left of their party as Grandmera positions herself at Rominy and Elowyn’s side.
“I see you managed, young one,” Grandmera says.
“I did.”
“I never doubted you.”
Elowyn relaxes against Rominy’s chest as he holds her in the saddle, and one of Lorial’s warriors calls for them to move out.
This wasn’t how he anticipated his first experience of Lostariel going, but the thought of seeing inside Elowyn’s world makes his heart beat a little faster.
If only the circumstances were different.
Elowyn manages to stay awake long enough for them to reach the border, and as they pass the tree line, she murmurs, “Welcome to Lostariel, my love.” Then her eyes flutter closed, and he holds her close as he enters her world for the first time.
“Cerian, I’m sorry, but I need a few minutes to be human.” Arisanna’s heart pounds as she struggles to catch her breath. “There’s a stitch in my side, and I think I have a blister.”
She stumbles behind him, doing her best not to whimper.
He slows his jog and turns back to her. “Whistling wind. I should have noticed your heart pounding and slowed down. Forgive me. And thank you for saying something.”
It was either that or fall on her face when her legs gave out, but she keeps that to herself.
He leads her to a fallen log as she tries not to limp. All the while, his eyes wander the surrounding forest, but he must think they’re safe enough for him to kneel on the bed of cedar fronds in front of her.
“Let’s see how it looks.” He reaches for the foot that hurts without asking which one has the blister.
Clearly, her efforts to hide her pain didn’t get past him.
“You’re not wearing stockings,” he says with a frown.
“I couldn’t figure out how to manage them with the trousers, and we were in a hurry. I didn’t think it would matter.”
He gently removes her shoe and examines her foot. “The skin is broken on your heel. How long has it been hurting?”
“A while,” she whispers, looking away. “But we already stopped for me once, and I didn’t want to be a burden. I’m sorry you had to bring me. I know I’m just slowing you down. You’d probably be there by now if not for me.”
“Sanna.”
His use of her nickname takes her back to the heartlanding last night when he called her that in the heat of their passion.
She hesitantly meets his eyes again, and only love shines there.
“The other half of my love story,” he whispers. “The other half of me. You make me strong, remember?”
“Even in my humanness when I can’t keep up with you?”
“Even then.”
“But how will we get home? I can’t walk to Darlei like this.”
A slow smile spreads on his face. “Home to Darlei?”
Her own lips threaten a smile. “Yes, my elven prince. Home to Darlei.”
“I’ll just have to carry you.”
“But—”
“Don’t make me kiss you.”
His words warm her heart. “That’s hardly a threat, Cerian.”
“No, and I really shouldn’t. Not here.”
That thought sobers them both.
“I wish I could heal this for you,” he says softly. “But we’re not in the heartlanding, and I don’t have life magic.”
“I know. I’ll survive.”
With a gentle touch, he returns her shoe to her foot before growing a patch of what looks like the softest moss imaginable. “This should help it not rub.” He packs the moss around her heel, and she trails her fingers down his cheek.
“Thank you.”
“Next time, tell me sooner, all right?”
With a sigh, she nods. “I’ll try.”
A glimmer of movement at the edge of her vision catches her eye, and she looks up. The flash of red disappears before she can get a good look at it.
“Cerian, something moved to my right,” she breathes as quietly as possible.
He stiffens, and that determined look returns as he glances over his shoulder.
But the movement is gone.
Her heart pounds, and she reminds herself to breathe. Slow and steady. In and out.
“Show yourself!” Cerian calls as he rises and stands between Arisanna and whatever she saw, but nothing appears.
“Maybe it was an animal,” she says.
“Perhaps. We should—”
Before he can finish, leaves crunch nearby, and the flash of red returns as a circle of branches shoots from the ground like a wall around them.
That was impressive. Hopefully, that was Cerian’s doing and not someone trying to trap them. She can’t see beyond the wall without standing, and Cerian would probably shove her back down if she tried.
“That’s impossible,” he breathes. His stance relaxes, and she frowns.
“What is it?” She cranes her neck to glimpse whatever he’s looking at, but all she sees are branches and leaves.
“It’s...it’s Starfire. I’m almost positive.”
“What? Starfire? Here?” She grabs Cerian’s arm to help her stand, and he doesn’t stop her.
And there, horn glistening in the dappled light of the afternoon sun, is a chestnut unicorn.