Episode 181 Elowyn’s Human
Elowyn’s Human
Rominy runs a hand over the growing scruff on his jaw.
Arisanna is here. With Cerian. Of course with Cerian.
Because that’s not awkward.
Are they cooking something? Does Arisanna even know how to cook?
Not that she’d need many skills to stand there in Cerian’s arms while he does everything.
That may be the most shocking thing of all.
Cerian cooks.
Rominy definitely didn’t see that coming.
“I see you have a couple of helpers,” Lorial says with a smile, and Cerian doesn’t let go of Arisanna as he turns back to the stove.
“Is this Miss Elowyn’s human?” the portly woman who must be Windhaven’s cook asks, pulling Rominy’s attention away from Arisanna, and he almost laughs.
“That’s me. Elowyn’s human. It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am.”
“Call me Cook like the rest. Are you here to be put to work? If you’re going to be in my kitchen, I’m going to put you to work.” She waves a wooden spoon at him.
Well. This is a new experience.
Before Rominy can respond, Lorial says, “You’ll have to”—Rominy doesn’t catch that word—“his help another day. He has other plans tonight.”
Great. Announce it to everyone. Rominy doesn’t miss the way Cerian’s hand stills around the spoon in the pan. What are they making anyway? Whatever it is, it smells good.
“Oh, he does, does he?” Cook says more that Rominy doesn’t quite catch, and Lorial’s smile grows.
“Did you understand that?” Lorial asks.
“Some of it.”
“She thinks I’m here to sweet-talk her into whipping up something special for you to romance Elowyn with. And she would be right.”
Wonderful. This isn’t at all embarrassing.
“Is that it, Master Lorial?” Cook continues. “I know exactly where those boys of yours get it. Thinking if you compliment my cooking and offer me a smile, I’ll be eating out of your hand.”
“I do love your cooking. Are those fresh biscuits I smell?” Lorial inhales deeply, a grin teasing his face.
“I will smack you with this spoon.” Cook points the wooden utensil toward Lorial, and Rominy glances back at Sanna in disbelief.
She just shrugs as she offers her own smile.
Lostariel is a shocking place.
In the best ways, of course.
“Before you do that,” Lorial says, “could you help me out? Rominy wants to take Elowyn on a...”
The rest is a jumbled mess of Elvish. Hopefully, whatever Lorial is telling everyone about Rominy’s plans for Elowyn tonight only involves the food part.
Images of eating food off Elowyn fill his head, and he quickly banishes them. Stars above.
“What did you tell her?” Rominy asks.
“That she makes the best picnic baskets.”
Well. That’s a relief.
“Flattery. Hmph.” Cook lowers the spoon and turns to Rominy with her hands on her hips. “I suppose you wish to ply her with sweets.”
“My Elowyn does love sweets,” Rominy says. “But I’d hate to put you out.”
“You hear that, Master Lorial? She’s his Elowyn. Your”—another word Rominy doesn’t recognize—“belongs to someone else now.”
A light laugh bursts from Lorial.
“What did she call Elowyn?” Rominy whispers.
“My wildling. I often called her that during her elfling days.”
Wildling. It suits her.
“I am very much aware that her heart belongs to someone else now,” Lorial says. “I like to believe I’m adjusting well. Rominy makes it easy, though. He’s one of the good ones.” Lorial grips Rominy’s shoulder, and heat creeps up Rominy’s neck as Cook studies him.
“I’ve seen the way you pile your food in a heap, Master Rominy,” Cook says.
Is that bad? He feels the sudden urge to apologize, but Cook winks, and relief fills him.
She’s teasing.
“I confess I have done that,” he says. “Berries and grouse. It’s fantastic. You should try it.”
Cerian makes a face from the stove, and Rominy struggles not to laugh.
“Listen to that, Master Lorial. He thinks my cooking’s fantastic. I like this one.” Cook points the spoon at Rominy again, but there’s warmth in her eyes this time.
Lorial drapes an arm around Rominy’s shoulders. “We’re all pretty fond of him. Will you help him out tonight?”
“Well, of course I’ll help him romance Miss Elowyn. What sort of coldhearted elf do you take me for, imagining I’d say no...” She continues mumbling to herself as she walks deeper into the kitchen, and Lorial grins Rominy’s way.
“Thank you,” Rominy whispers to him, and he nods.
“Are you still standing in my kitchen?” Cook calls to them. “There are always more potatoes to peel, Master Lorial.”
“I’d hate to deprive Cerian of that pleasure,” Lorial says. “We’ll leave you to your work.”
“Thank you,” Rominy calls to Cook as Lorial leads him back into the hallway.
“Now, you’d better return to your Elowyn before she goes crazy wondering what’s become of you. Good luck.” Lorial grins his way, and heat creeps up Rominy’s neck again.
“When I say my Elowyn—”
Lorial musses his hair and gives him a push toward the royal wing. At least, it’s probably the way to the royal wing. Rominy got a little turned around after the arena.
“I’ll see you in the morning,” Lorial says before striding off in the other direction.
Right.
Jonas is gone, replaced by two of his men. Good for Jonas. Hopefully, he survives his night with Rafelis.
“I don’t suppose you know the way back to the royal wing?” Rominy says.
Traggers offers a smile. “This way, Your Highness.”
With a grateful nod, Rominy follows as his guards lead him back to Elowyn.
Time to romance his wife.
Waiting. Elowyn sighs. It’s not one of her strengths, though she likes to believe she’s better at it after her illness and days spent in the heartlanding.
Still.
Where in the Wildthorne Woods is Rominy? And what did he need to speak to Pera about?
For a while, she sits on the end of the bed. Then she groans and flops back on the moss mattress, staring at the ceiling and its familiar mass of tangled branches.
Perhaps Rominy intends to spend the evening with Pera instead of her.
She laughs at that.
Voices in the vestibule draw her attention, and she hurries to the door to listen, but it’s just Tharios and Viala. They sound awfully smitten. It’s sweet but curious.
None of her business. It’s none of her business.
With another groan, she flops face-first on the bed.
Perhaps she should change into something...else.
Rominy likes her in leather, though.
What else does she even have? It’s not as if she wore anything fit for the newly bound before she left Windhaven for Nunia.
She wanders to her wardrobe anyway and frowns when she opens the door.
Cerian’s been here.
Why did he put her shoes down there? She’ll never find them there.
She quickly reorganizes her chaos, shoving the shoe on the shelf three times until it stays.
There’s nothing in here worth putting on.
She checks her drawers next, but they’re full of nightgowns and small clothes. And not the kind lining her closet in Levina.
Humans are odd. So private, pretending nothing happens behind closed doors while filling the closets of the newly bound with see-through ensembles.
Regardless, she has nothing like that here.
Not that it would matter if she did. She’d probably set it on fire.
That would be dramatic.
She laughs before sighing as she leans back against the wall and slides to the floor.
At least Rominy is patient.
And they have the heartlanding.
It’s probably better in the heartlanding, anyway.
Better isn’t always...better, though. Is it? There’s something beautiful about the raw and the real. The imperfect. A world where you have to choose love. Choose each other.
Perhaps it’s not better or worse. Perhaps it’s just part of the story she wants to write with Rominy. The life she wants to experience. The fantasy and the reality.
Find the beauty in both worlds, with him.
She hugs her knees to her chest as longing for him crashes over her.
Where is he? The urge to find him fills her. What if he got lost wandering around Windhaven?
Surely he’s not alone, though. He’s never alone in the real world. Not when he leaves their room.
She stretches onto her back and stares at the ceiling again.
He’s probably not lost.
Just busy. Doing things without her.
Which is fine. She’s not clingy. He doesn’t need to be glued to her side every minute of the day.
She’s fine. This is fine.
The doorknob turns, and relief washes over her. Anyone but Rominy would have knocked.
“Elowyn?” He shuts the door behind him. Whistling wind. He’s just as gorgeous as ever and has absolutely no idea. “There you are. Are you all right?”
Worry clouds his voice as he hurries toward her, and she laughs.
“Need someone to face a dragon with you?” she says. “I’m your woman. Ask me to wait patiently for what must surely have been hours, and I turn into a puddle on the floor.”
He crosses his arms and shakes his head as he looks down at her. “Hours, huh? I’m surprised you survived.”
“As am I. At one point, I feared I might succumb to the boredom.”
“Yeah, it was more like thirty minutes. Maybe forty-five, tops.”
“I’m pretty sure it was days.”
That draws out his laughter, and he lowers himself to the floor beside her before she can get up.
“I missed you,” she says more seriously. “Were you with Pera the whole time?”
“I was.”
She waits for him to elaborate, but he doesn’t.
“You’re not going to tell me, are you?” she asks.
“Nope.”
“I believe you intend to drive me to insanity with the wondering. You’d be proud of me, you know. I resisted the urge to spy on Tharios, even though I’m certain something is going on with them. Something Mother and Pera are thrilled about, but they don’t want anyone else to know. Something...”
Her words trail off as a thought suddenly occurs to her.
No. That can’t be it. Can it?
Whistling wind. It must be.
“The look on your face is scaring me,” Rominy says.
“I believe I know what’s going on.”
“I thought we agreed to let them keep their secrets.”
“I’m not planning to tell anyone.”
Neither of them says anything as Elowyn bites her lip to keep from smiling too widely.
“Well, now you have to tell me,” Rominy eventually says.
She turns her face toward him. “What happened to letting them keep their secrets?”
“If you’re going to lie there grinning from pointed ear to pointed ear, you have to tell me.”
“Nope.” She shakes her head.
“That’s just cruel.”
She rolls over his chest. “Tell me what you were talking to Pera about.”
“I will. Just not yet. Trust me, all right?”
With an exaggerated sigh, she nods. “Fine. Promise you’ll tell me soon?”
“I promise. Now what has you smiling, love?”
His hand on her back sends shivers to her toes as she leans close to whisper in his ear, “I believe Tharios is going to be a father.”