Episode 150
The Wrong Thing to Say
“Please tell me that’s the last one,” Rominy says in the best Elvish he can muster after Healer Cadowyn steps back. Elowyn breathes out slowly. Her eyes are closed tightly still, but at least she’s not crying this time.
Or screaming. Stars above.
“That’s enough for today,” Tharios says. “I’ll take over in the morning. Thank you, Healer Cadowyn.”
Tharios seems to be forcing the words out. It’s a fascinating side of him, this part that gets frustrated when he feels helpless and has to rely on others to do what he’s used to doing himself.
Not that Elowyn’s any different. They must get that trait from their mother.
“Of course, my prince.” Healer Cadowyn says something else about Tharios’s feelings clouding his judgment as a healer, and Rominy does his best to pick out the words.
“Rule number two,” Tharios says. “I haven’t forgotten.”
“You never forget.” Healer Cadowyn says more, but all Rominy can make out is the phrase, “ignore the rules,” along with something about someone else Healer Cadowyn trained long ago.
He must be talking about Nestraya.
“I come by it honestly,” Tharios says. “And I am grateful to you. Truly.”
“I know, my prince. I will take my leave now. Send for me if you need me.”
“How do you feel, love?” Rominy asks Elowyn after the healer is gone.
“More like myself than I have in a while. Other than when we’re in the...well, you know.”
Other than in the heartlanding. That’s what she means. It’s odd being with her here and there on the same day. She’s strong there. Vibrant.
She’ll be strong again here soon, too.
“Are we eating in the dining room tonight?” Elowyn asks in Elvish. At least that’s probably what she said. It was either dining room or boat room, but dining room makes more sense.
“I ordered all your meals here through tomorrow,” Tharios says, and Elowyn sighs.
“I feel better. I’m certain I could traverse Windhaven to reach the dining room.”
“You’ll get the chance to find out. The day after tomorrow.”
Food is soon delivered for all of them, and it’s a lively conversation around their small table. Rominy keeps up with Elowyn and Tharios’s banter as well as he can. At least he’s picking up more Elvish every day this way.
When Tharios and Viala start in, he almost chokes.
Stars above. Mother would be scandalized by the words that fly between them.
Even Elowyn groans a few times.
Their laughter ends abruptly when a firm pounding sounds on the door, and Tharios rises to answer it.
An elf in the same type of warrior leathers they encountered on their arrival at Darlei stands at attention in the vestibule, and Rominy finds his feet as well.
“My prince,” the warrior elf says, “I come with a message from First Corivos.”
The rest of their conversation takes place in rapid Elvish, and Rominy watches with no small amount of jealousy as Tharios slides easily into the role of his father’s proxy at Windhaven.
Is Tharios ever unsure of himself?
To Rominy’s relief, Elowyn translates their words for him.
“He says they found Cerian and Arisanna alive and well with no sign of rebel activity.”
Oh, thank the heavens.
Rominy’s knees wobble in his relief, and he braces his hand on his chair to steady himself.
But the elf continues, and Elowyn pales.
“What is it?” Rominy asks.
“My mother’s uncle. He sustained injuries from a fall. He would have died if Cerian hadn’t found him when he did. But he needs a healer. A real healer.”
Rominy stares at Elowyn. “Next time you have a feeling about something, remind me to listen.”
“Inform my grandmother and have Nebula and Erlos saddled,” Tharios says, and Viala shakes her head.
“Tharios, no. You’re not—”
“I’m fine. I will be fine. And I’m going.”
“I’m going, too.” Elowyn hurries to her wardrobe.
“What?” Rominy swivels toward her.
“You heard me.” She yanks open the door, and a shoe falls from a high shelf, but she kicks it aside.
“You’re not going anywhere,” Tharios says. “Not tonight.”
“You may be in charge at Windhaven when Pera and Mother are absent, but you have no authority over me, Tharios Westaria.”
“Now, wait a minute,” Rominy says. “Because I do.”
Elowyn freezes before spinning toward him.
Stars above. That was the wrong thing to say.
He should have let her argue with Tharios.
“I’m not sure you translated that the way you meant to, Rominy.”
His name. The way she says it. It’s terrifying.
And her heart is racing.
“Let’s back up for a moment,” he says in Nunian. “Because you look like you want to fling your fireballs at me this time, and I’m pretty sure you’d regret that. Eventually.”
“Perhaps.”
“Now, I’m going to claw back my words and remind myself I married a fierce warrior princess from the elven Kingdom of Lostariel who doesn’t need me telling her what to do. And I’m hoping she’ll remember she loves me enough to care what I think.”
He holds his breath, waiting for her response. Hopefully, that was the right thing to say.
She glares at him for what feels like far longer than it probably is, but then she glances away, and the fire goes out from her.
It’s probably safe to approach her now.
When he draws her to his chest, she leans her head against his shoulder.
“I’m sorry, El,” he whispers. “I’m going to say stupid things sometimes.”
“But you said it. Which means you believe it’s true, doesn’t it? Or you wouldn’t have been able to voice the words.”
Rominy glances at Tharios, who wears an inscrutable expression.
“I’m Nunian, love,” Rominy says quietly. “Be patient with me. No one prepared me for having an elven wife.”
“I suppose that’s true.”
“And let’s be honest here. It’s not as if I could stop you.”
That draws a laugh from her.
“I could stop her,” Tharios says in Elvish.
“Tharios.” Viala lays a hand on his arm as Rominy picks out her words. “You are her brother and healer. Not her keeper.”
“She’s not ready!”
“Neither are you,” Viala says. “But you will go anyway because you are who you are.”
Tharios purses his lips. Then he sighs before switching back to Nunian. “Fine. But if you get sick again, it’s not my fault.”
“What’s the actual risk of that?” Rominy asks. “Just so we know.”
Tharios looks out the window as he rubs his brow. “It’s low. I examined her with my magic while you were arguing. She’s almost back to her normal self.”
Viala frowns at him, and he mumbles the words in Elvish.
“Tharios!” she says. “You shouldn’t be using your life magic.”
Elowyn cocks her head to the side. “I can’t decide if I should be angry with you or not.”
“While you ponder that, I’m going to prepare to depart. Come or not. It’s up to you.” Tharios leaves, and Viala follows.
For a moment, Elowyn stares at the door that closes behind them. Then she turns back to Rominy. “I’m going.”
“I know.”
“You’re coming too. To make sure I rest when I need to.”
He fights back a smile. “Is that the only reason?”
Her expression softens, and she shakes her head. “Truly, it’s because I think my heart would be ripped from my chest if I tried to leave you. And I’m all right with feeling that way about you.”
He draws her close again. “The feeling is mutual.”
“Be patient with me, too?”
“I’m a pretty patient man.” He offers her a kiss before letting her go.
She returns to her wardrobe and pulls out her leathers.
“El—”
“What?” She’s already stripping out of the clothes she put on after her bath earlier.
“Didn’t we talk about leaving the leathers in the closet until you’re better?”
She smiles up at him as she slips the trousers on. “Tharios said I am better.”
“Almost better.”
“Close enough.” She shrugs.
“You are going to be the death of me, Elowyn Westaria.”
She wanders closer before wrapping her arms around his neck. “You forgot the Montarac.”
She doesn’t wait for him to respond before finding his lips in a hungry kiss.
And just as quickly, she steps away and creates a fireball in her palm. With a smile that leaves his heart racing, she flings the fireball across the room into the hearth.
“I’m back.” She lifts her eyes to Rominy. “Breathe, my love.”
Then she pulls her tunic over her head before wandering closer and running her hands along the buttons of his waistcoat.
And she expects him to breathe?
“This won’t do at all,” she says in Elvish.
“What?”
She grabs the wool and tugs him closer. “I have plans for you tonight, Rominy Montarac.”
Without another word, she lets him go and strides to the door, and he leans a hand on the wall to steady himself.
Stars above.
“Remember to breathe, my love,” she calls to him without turning.
She’ll definitely be the death of him.