Episode 169 When in Celesta
When in Celesta
Breakfast is a chaotic affair, with many extra chairs pulled up to their family’s informal dining table. Perhaps they should have eaten in the more formal dining room with its long, rectangular table rather than squeezing around the smaller round table they eat at now.
That wouldn’t have felt like a family meal, though. And Cerian craves a moment of normalcy amid the upheaval of his life lately.
Despite the chaos surrounding him, it feels familiar. Like home. Warmth fills Cerian as Elowyn exchanges verbal spars with Tharios across the table, and Corivos attempts to converse with Jonas about human customs in the Nunian Army.
No one brings up the rebel situation until the food has been consumed.
Father sits back with his arm draped across Mother’s chair as he tosses down his napkin and sighs.
“I’ll be forthright. I wasn’t looking forward to visiting Celesta to start with, but I had hoped we could put a good face on it.
Now it seems we may be doing damage control to present a strong and united front to the upper echelons of Lostarien society. ”
“Politics,” Rominy mutters, and Father nods.
“Indeed.”
“I may not be a warrior, but politics is something I understand,” Rominy says as he throws his own napkin down. “Please tell me Lostarien high society is less ruthless than the Nunian nobility.”
Father laughs, and Tharios shakes his head.
“That’s what I was afraid of,” Rominy says.
Politics. That’s the last thing Cerian needs. He’d ask to remain behind, but it doesn’t seem worth wasting breath over. Even if Mother was sympathetic to his request, his parents need him to stand alongside them in this. He knows his duty to his parents. To his kingdom.
Even if he doesn’t like it.
“Listen to me. All of you.” Mother meets each of their eyes around the table.
Even Arisanna and Rominy and Viala. “There are people who will try to tear you down. To turn your strengths into weaknesses and your weaknesses into fodder to use against you. But regardless of what anyone says, it doesn’t change the truth about who you are. Do you hear me? Who you are is enough.”
“And you are ours,” Father adds.
Cerian clenches his jaw as his dread grows, but Arisanna finds his hand under the table and clings to it.
“We’ll depart in two days,” Mother says. “In the meantime, we need to root out who interacted with Fenoral while he was here.”
“I’ll visit the healing center,” Tharios says. “See what I can find out.”
“Thank you,” Father says. “I want you all to be careful as we prepare to travel. Corivos informs me none of his elite trackers have detected any sign of Fenoral. He’d be unwise to venture into Darlei again.
But remain vigilant all the same. No one leaves Windhaven without one of my elite warriors at your side at all times. Understood?”
Cerian holds back his groan as he nods along with the others.
Not that he was planning to go anywhere, but he’s already feeling caged.
As everyone rises, Grandmera calls for Cerian, Elowyn, and Taliel to remain behind.
Cerian glances at Elowyn, who shrugs as everyone aside from the three of them and their binding partners wanders back into the hallway.
“What is it, my queen?” Taliel asks.
“It is this. I care little about fashion on a personal level. The true measure of a person has nothing to do with the clothing he or she wears. But we are entering a society that will care. That will judge you for not caring. And your binding partners are sorely lacking in clothing options appropriate for an extended stay in Lostarien high society.” She gazes at them in turn, and Cerian gulps as Taliel glances at Jonas’s ragged jacket.
That must be the only one he brought with him.
“I am happy to fade into the background,” Jonas says.
Grandmera sighs. “I’m afraid that option was lost to you when your heart consented to bind with one of Lorial’s elite warriors. You will be on display as a representative of Nunia in Celesta, just as Rominy and Arisanna will be.”
Jonas’s jaw flexes before he nods. “Understood, Your Majesty. What would you recommend?”
“We have limited time before we leave, and we will be packing lightly, so a few things for each of you should suffice until we can fill out your wardrobes in Celesta. I’m unsure whether outfitting you in elven styles would be more appropriate or if we should ask the tailor to attempt something more Nunian.
Arisanna, of course, will be easy to clothe in whatever the shops have available, but the two of you, and Jonas especially. ..” She gestures, and Taliel laughs.
“Jonas neglected to stop growing,” Taliel says, and Jonas crosses his arms over his broad chest.
“I neglected to stop growing? I’ll have you know I stopped growing years ago.”
“That’s a relief. I doubt you’d fit on the bed if you grew much larger. Or I wouldn’t.”
Jonas stares at her for a moment before clearing his throat and scratching his brow as he turns to Rominy. “Is this one of those times where I need to just embrace that I’m married to an—”
“Yep.” Rominy nods. “Just go with it. Pretend it’s normal. That’s what I try to do.”
Arisanna buries her face against Cerian’s arm. “We both do.”
Elowyn bursts into laughter, and Cerian struggles not to smile as he wraps his arm around Arisanna. At least he’s not as bad as Elowyn and Taliel about embarrassing his human, though his human seems to embarrass easier than the others. It probably all comes out even in the end.
Even Grandmera is smiling as she looks thoughtfully at the three of them.
“I believe we’ll make the strongest statement in elven fashions.
As they say, when in Celesta, clothe yourself as the Resvestians do.
I’ll see you all in twenty minutes, ready to visit the shops in Darlei.
” She sweeps from the room as Cerian holds back a sigh.
“Who are the Resvestians?” Rominy asks.
“Miravel Resvestian, heir to the vast Resvestian fortune and holdings scattered throughout Lostariel, binded with Crown Prince Restoval Westaria on a warm summer day just shy of her ninety-first birthday,” Arisanna whispers before Cerian or Elowyn can respond.
She must have memorized that from a textbook or newspaper clipping while being tutored about Lostariel.
“And then the Resvestian family disowned her,” Elowyn mutters. “For the egregious sin of loving an orphaned elfling from the Outerlands as her own daughter.”
Arisanna looks up at Elowyn. “They disowned her?”
“They did,” Cerian whispers. “And she hasn’t spoken to them in nearly sixty years.”
“Isn’t her father an Elder on your father’s Council?” Rominy asks.
“On paper, yes,” Elowyn says. “In reality, he has neglected his duty to advise the King of Lostariel since our grandfather took the throne nearly fifty years ago.”
“Wow,” Rominy says. “And I thought Nunian nobles were ruthless.”
“On the bright side,” Taliel says, “The House Resvestian fights its battles with its nose in the air on the streets of Celesta rather than with weapons and magic flying in the Wildthorne Woods. No rebel activity has ever been connected with Queen Miravel’s family aside from her father’s refusal to set foot in Starhaven or Darlei. ”
“So they don’t pose a genuine threat?” Jonas asks, and Cerian and Elowyn exchange a glance with Taliel.
“I don’t believe so,” Taliel says. “None of them are on our list of individuals to never allow unaccompanied on a royal estate. They’re free to come and go as they please. They simply choose not to.”
Jonas nods. “I’d like to see this list.”
“I’m sure that can be arranged,” Taliel says. “In the meantime, it seems we’re going shopping, and I anticipate this being an amusing experience.”
“Amusing for one of us,” Jonas mutters, and Taliel laughs.
“I think it will be fun.” Elowyn drapes her arms over Rominy’s shoulders and smiles playfully at him. Cerian looks away, focusing his attention on Arisanna instead.
Images of her trying on elven clothing fill his head. Will Grandmera put her in leather? He pictures her in the same style of ayervadi leathers Elowyn and Viala wear, and his hands grow far hotter than they should be.
Maybe this won’t be so bad.