Episode 180 That Was Different
That Was Different
Tharios stares at Uncle Quilian. Did he really guess their secret just by looking at them?
If they aren’t careful, everyone will know before they even depart for Celesta.
“You look like your father did when Nestraya told him she was expecting you,” Uncle Quilian says as he lies there with his eyes closed. “I feel the passing of time keenly now.” He chuckles before moaning again, and Tharios does something for his pain.
At least he’s healing well.
“Mmm. Thank you for that,” Uncle Quilian says. “I’m growing too old and too soft to act like a tough Outerlander these days.”
“You aren’t nearly as old as you like to pretend,” Tharios mutters. “But you’re welcome.”
Uncle Quilian squints at him. “The fact that you haven’t denied there’s an elfling on the way speaks volumes. Do your parents know?”
There’s no point in denying it now. Besides, Uncle Quilian is a master secret-keeper. It’s the Outerlander in him.
Tharios gives in to his smile again. “They know. And they are both thrilled.”
“As they should be. And your grandmother?”
Tharios glances at Viala before answering. “She knows, too. She was the first one I told. We only found out today. No one else knows, and we’d like to keep it that way for a little longer.”
Uncle Quilian laughs again. This time, he doesn’t groan in pain. “Good luck with that. Finish whatever it is you believe you need to inflict on me. Then be on your way. You have better things to do tonight than fawn over an old man.”
Tharios smiles at that as he finishes his examination. “Everything looks great. Just take it easy tomorrow, too, and you should be back on your feet soon.”
Uncle Quilian expresses his gratitude, and Tharios and Viala take their leave.
“You told Grandmera?” Viala asks once the door is closed behind them, and Tharios shrugs.
“I needed to tell someone, and you were still asleep.”
To his relief, she seems more amused than upset.
“I know I said one more stop,” he begins, “but would it be all right if—”
“If you checked on your mother?” Viala offers him a knowing glance. “Of course we can do that. Lead the way, elf prince. I’ll get you all to myself eventually.”
He wraps his arm around her shoulders and kisses her temple. “You’re amazing. You know that?”
“An elf prince I’m acquainted with keeps saying as much, so I must be.”
Tharios laughs at that. “Mother is in their chamber. Come on.”
“Come in, my little love,” Mother calls when Tharios knocks, and he rolls his eyes. So much for not using her life magic.
Tharios pushes open the door, and Viala follows him inside. A small chest lies open on the bed. Mother must be packing for their trip.
“I believe your father told you to spend the evening with each other,” Mother says as mirth lights up her eyes. “Not with me.”
Tharios squeezes Viala’s hand. “It’s next on my list.”
“Always a list.” Mother smiles. “I assume you’re here to talk about my magic? You have your healer face on.”
“My healer face?” He turns to Viala. “Is that a thing?”
“Very much so, my love.” She steals a kiss while he ponders that.
When he turns back to Mother, she looks teary again, and she laughs lightly as she wipes her eyes and lowers herself to the bed. “Whistling wind. I’m a mess today. Happy tears again. I promise.”
“It’s all right, Mother,” Tharios says as he steps closer. “I understand.”
She tries to hide her sadness at how much she missed. How much she sacrificed. But on days like today, she can’t hide much of anything.
Their little one will be lucky to have her.
Mother could easily have another elfling of her own if she wished to. But she needs time to be herself again without others depending on her body and life force to keep them alive.
As a healer, he’d encourage her to take more time to recover, both mentally and physically, before considering conceiving again.
And even if they do have another elfling someday, Mother will never get back the years she lost. She needs time to grieve that.
Perhaps loving on a little one without putting her body through the strain of bearing another elfling will help her heal more than anything else could.
Mother exhales slowly before smiling again. “Give me your prognosis, Healer Tharios.”
He reaches out with his magic to assess her. She’s healthy. Strong. You’d never guess she spent more than twenty years barely surviving while her life magic attempted to drain all the life from her.
Until he focuses on her magic, that is.
“I see a marked improvement,” he says.
That’s not the whole story, though. He won’t pretend it is.
“It’s still not what it was. I know.” Mother doesn’t sound bitter or even upset. Just accepting. “I am content with that, Tharios. Truly.” Her voice rings with sincerity, and the overwhelming knowledge that Mother is one of the best people Tharios knows fills him.
Their elfling will definitely be lucky to have her. They all are.
“Let me try something.” He lowers himself to the bed beside her. He’s never done this before because it’s discouraged in the Healer’s Circle. It’s too easy to lose control and give too much.
But Mother’s control of her life magic is unparalleled, aside from Tharios’s own magic.
He trusts her not to take too much.
When he offers his palms, she looks at him warily. “If you’re attempting to use your magic to shore up mine, the answer is no. I will not put you at risk.”
“Just a little bit. If I give you small infusions over time, it might—”
“No. You have an elfling to consider, Tharios. You can’t simply take risks with your magic and hope for the best.”
He frowns as he drops his hands. “Like you did?”
“That was different.”
“How?”
“That was for Nunia. For Lostariel.”
“Lostariel needs you now, Mother. Let me help you. You’d do it for me in a heartbeat.” He offers his hands again.
“Of course I would. You’re my elfling. My heart wandering around outside my body.”
“I’m pretty sure that last part is Father rather than me.”
She ignores him. “Put yourself in my place and imagine your elfling sitting where you sit now. Offering what you offer. What would you say?”
An image of such a scene fills Tharios’s head, and he lowers his hands once more.
“This is what it means to be a parent, Tharios,” Mother says softly as she rests a hand on his cheek and looks into his eyes. “And what you feel now is a fraction of what I feel for you. Of what you’ll feel the first time you gaze into your own elfling’s eyes.”
The urge to pass the magic to her now, while her hand is on his face, nearly overwhelms him, but he refrains. That would be unethical since she’s refused in sound mind and good conscience.
And she wouldn’t thank him for it.
He sighs. “Then I’m prescribing more flesh contact tonight and as much as you can manage in the coming days.”
She smiles at his words. “Understood, Healer Tharios. And thank you. Now cross me and everything other than Viala off your list, and go fall in love all over again.”
Tharios glances back at Viala.
That shouldn’t be hard at all.
“All of them eating separately tonight with no warning whatsoever.” Cook’s mumblings reach Arisanna and Cerian in the corridor outside the kitchen, and Cerian squeezes Arisanna’s hand.
Stars above. Cook doesn’t sound pleased.
“Are you sure we should bother her?” Arisanna asks. “She sounds...busy.”
“She won’t have to worry about getting our food to us if we’re here already. If she doesn’t want us, she’ll let us know. Trust me.” He pulls Arisanna into the kitchen before she can respond.
“Well, if it isn’t Master Cerian and his human princess,” Cook says when she glances up at them from the stove. “Come to find your dinner?”
“What are you making?” Cerian asks. It’s still astounding how freely he speaks around Cook.
“I’m not taking orders if that’s what you’re implying. You’ll get what you get.”
“Of course,” Cerian says. “What are you making?”
A smile flickers across Cook’s face as she shakes her head. “I’m just getting started on the radishes. Come over here and stir these so I can get those biscuits out of the oven. Are your hands clean?”
Without a word, Cerian leads Arisanna to the sink, and soon they’re standing at the stove as Cook hands him the cooking spoon or whatever it’s called and leaves him to the pan of radishes she was stirring.
He slips an arm around Arisanna’s waist and slides the spoon handle into her palm, wrapping his hand around hers as she stands between him and the stove.
“This is called sautéing,” he whispers near her ear. “The pan is very hot, so be careful.”
He guides her movements with the spoon, not stirring too much or letting anything sit for too long as the radishes turn brown. Then he scoops them out into a nearby bowl before starting the process again, adding what looks like salt and pepper to the pan.
He clearly knows what he’s doing.
“Why not use your magic?” Arisanna asks.
“Because that would be roasting, and tonight we’re sautéing.”
“Ah.” She’ll just pretend that means something to her.
Cook wanders by and eyes their progress.
“Cooking while wrapped around your human princess,” she mutters.
“Now I’ve seen everything. I’d tell you none of that in my kitchen, but I believe it’s a lost cause.
” Cook winks, and Arisanna’s face heats even more than it already was in the warmth from the stove.
Unlike the last time they were here, Cerian doesn’t let her go at Cook’s teasing. If anything, he holds her closer.
“Now, I know you haven’t come here to cook radishes, Master Lorial,” Cook says behind them, and Arisanna turns with Cerian to see Lorial and Rominy, of all people, standing in the doorway. Why is Rominy here? And where is Elowyn?