Episode 142 Sounds Romantic
Sounds Romantic
When Windhaven comes into view, Viala whimpers in relief.
Was it really only this morning she woke in that clearing with Tharios? It must be well past midnight now.
“I’ll need help,” she whispers to Rafelis, and he nods.
“I assumed as much, my princess.”
When they stop at the stables, Rafelis quickly cuts the vines binding Tharios to Viala, and the other elves gently guide Tharios off Stardust.
Sweat dampens Viala’s back, making her shimmeron gown cling uncomfortably to her skin, but Tharios is alive, and he’s home, and little else matters.
She climbs off Stardust, giving the unicorn a pat on the neck before stumbling after Rafelis and the others as they heft Tharios inside.
He mumbles the whole way, and Viala struggles not to smile. He seems convinced he can walk. If she weren’t so exhausted and worn down by the day, she’d let him prove himself the fool, but tonight she just wants to get him to bed where she can curl up with him.
There’s far more activity at Windhaven than usual at this time of night, and her lips set into a grim line. At least Lorial found Cerian and Arisanna alive, and he and Nestraya will reach them as soon as possible.
They pass Rominy’s guards as they turn toward the residential wing, and Healer Cadowyn stands nearby.
“Ah, my other patient has arrived,” the healer says, and Viala sighs. She should let the man examine Tharios, but the thought of one more thing to do makes her eyes prickle.
Taking a deep breath, she imagines her safe room with Tharios inside, waiting to extinguish her flame. The last thing they need is another rainstorm.
Whether it helps or not, there’s no sudden change in the weather as far as she can tell, and relief fills her.
The elves lay Tharios on the bed, and Viala takes in the room. It’s just as they left it when they rushed off that night to save Elowyn. Viala’s dressing gown lies discarded across a chair back, flung there when she hurried to put her gown back on after Cerian pounded on their door.
Now Tharios is unwell, and Cerian is in the woods doing who knows what while rebels wander freely through Lostariel.
Viala numbly answers Healer Cadowyn’s questions when it becomes clear Tharios is half-delusional and incapable of answering for himself.
“Well, I’ll have a great many things to say to him once he’s on his feet again,” the healer says. “But for now, he should recover just fine with more flesh contact. I’ll leave you to it.”
Viala nods. “Thank you.”
She sees the healer out, only to find Rominy lurking in the vestibule.
He looks terrified, as if whatever facade he must have put on for Elowyn has crumbled. He probably doesn’t know Lorial found Cerian and Arisanna.
If only they could communicate more easily.
“Rominy,” she says quietly in Elvish. “Lorial knows where Cerian and Arisanna are.”
He eyes her for a moment, mouthing her words. Then relief washes over him.
“F-found them?” he says in halting Elvish.
She shakes her head. “With his magic. They’re in an Outerlander waypoint to the east.”
Rominy’s brows wrinkle. That was probably too many unfamiliar words.
“I understood magic and east,” Rominy says.
“Lorial used his magic to see them. Now they have to reach them.”
“Going after them now?”
A faint smile finds her. “Yes.”
Emotion clouds his eyes. “Thank you.”
He looks as lost as she feels, and she pulls him into a hug. “It will be all right.”
He stiffens. This probably isn’t a very human thing to do.
But then he pats her shoulder before she lets him go.
“You should rest,” she says, though whether he understands is hard to tell. “I need to return to Tharios.”
“Is he all right?”
He clearly picked out Tharios’s name, whatever else he may have comprehended.
“He will be. Goodnight, Rominy.”
“Goodnight.”
They pass through their respective doors, and Viala rubs her eyes.
“I lost you,” Tharios mumbles, and a smile tugs at her lips.
“Let’s get your clothes off, elf prince.”
“Sounds romantic.”
She shakes her head as she pulls at his trousers. Who knows where his boots ended up.
“You’ll have to dream up the romance. I’m just here to press my skin to yours.”
“Sounds less romantic.”
She laughs lightly at his words.
“I’m not as incoherent as you all think I am,” he murmurs when she pushes up his tunic and tugs it over his head.
“Moments of lucidity, my love. Nothing more.”
She slips off her gown and crawls into bed beside him, pressing herself to his side.
“This is nice,” he whispers.
“Think of how much nicer it would be if you could lift your head.”
“I can lift my head.” He demonstrates for her.
“Impressive. Now think of how much nicer it would be if you could lift other parts of yourself, and remember that next time you consider attempting to die.”
“I sense a remark about lower parts of my anatomy in that statement.”
“Hmm. Do you really? Now sleep so I may continue my remarks when you are fully lucid to remember them.”
He mumbles something about a locomotive next, and she smiles.
Moments of lucidity, indeed.
Rominy stares out the window at the river Elowyn talks about so much. It’s hard to see in the darkness. If he stands here much longer, the blue glow of pre-dawn will illuminate it soon enough.
Who knows what time it is. He tried to decipher what appears to be some sort of clock on Elowyn’s bedside table, but it was beyond his understanding, and he gave up.
He really should get some sleep. He’ll be useless tomorrow if he stays awake all night. The thought of sleeping while Arisanna is still unaccounted for turns his stomach, though.
If he understood Viala correctly, Lorial knows where they are, but Rominy’s relief at that was short-lived. He probably won’t stop worrying until he can see for himself that Arisanna is all right.
He glances back at the bed. Sleep. He should at least try. And the heartlanding is waiting if he manages it.
Not that he feels much like chasing dragons or building treehouses.
He looks back out the window and sighs before pulling the curtain closed and reaching for the buttons on his waistcoat. He needs new clothes. Something less Nunian.
More elven.
That’s a problem for later, though.
He crawls under the covers beside Elowyn, trying not to chuckle at the way she’s spread across most of the bed. She’s clearly used to sleeping here alone.
“Rominy?” she murmurs.
“Scoot over a little?”
She rolls to her side, and he curls up at her back, wrapping his arm around her. She sighs contentedly before drifting off to sleep again.
He lies awake, trying not to think about Arisanna for what feels like hours, but eventually, his eyelids grow heavy.
Usually, there’s a disconnect between falling asleep in the real world and waking in the heartlanding, but tonight, it’s as though he’s looking at the bark on the walls in their chamber at Windhaven, and then he blinks, and he’s gazing up at a dark, starless void as rain drizzles down on him.
Stars above. That’s unsettling.
“Elowyn?” He sits up and spots her a few feet away.
Her white gown leaves little to the imagination as it soaks up the drizzle.
“It’s raining,” she says. She sounds happy about it.
“You do love the rain, don’t you?”
She lifts a hand, and the water droplets slow in the air above her, dancing to the movement of her fingers.
Memories of her water magic trailing over his skin fill him, and he chuckles at how quickly seeing her play with water draws out his heat.
Thoughts of Arisanna flit across his mind, but he pushes them aside. It’s not as if stewing about it here will do anyone any good.
“Your heart is racing, my love,” Elowyn says as she continues playing with the rain.
“You’ve got me trained.”
Elowyn stills and looks toward him, and he waits for her to figure it out.
“You look tense, Rominy. Stressed.”
Where is she going with that?
“I’m a little stressed. Yes.” He sighs and glances away. He should try harder to be strong for her here, too. Not give in to this worry.
Arisanna is alive. And Lorial knows where to find her. He needs to hold on to that.
“You were being strong for me in the real world, weren’t you?” Elowyn whispers from nearby.
When Rominy turns toward her again, she’s right next to him. That was fast.
He doesn’t answer her question. He should probably fill her in about Cerian and Arisanna.
“Your father knows where Cerian and Arisanna are,” Rominy says. “Viala told me your parents are going after them. I didn’t understand everything she said, but I understood the important parts.”
“He found them? With his magic?”
Rominy nods, and he barely has time to catch Elowyn when she launches herself at him.
“So why are you stressed, my love? That’s good news.”
“He hasn’t reached them yet. And there are still rebels in Lostariel. And—”
“Does this get to be my job?” Elowyn whispers.
“What?” Water slides against his skin, and he sucks in a breath.
“I imagine being a king will be quite stressful at times.”
His eyes slide closed, and he groans as he falls back against his elbows, and she crawls over him.
“I imagine so,” he whispers.
“Then I’ll have to help you relax. Don’t you think?”
“Yes. My answer is yes.”
She laughs before finding his lips in a gentle kiss. “Do you want my magic or your music tonight, my love?”
He whimpers as her water runs in currents across his chest beneath his shirt. “Magic. Definitely magic.”
“Then relax, my love. Forget the real world.”
“Forgetting very quickly.”
“I love you, Rominy.”
Before he can respond, she claims his lips in a kiss that pushes all thoughts but her from his head as he gets lost in her magic once more.