Episode 71 Playing with Fire
Playing with Fire
Light filters through the curtains in an unfamiliar room as Cerian blinks open his eyes. Arisanna curls against his side, her hair tickling his chin.
The last thing he remembers is falling asleep tangled up together in the heartlanding.
He didn’t realize it was possible to sleep in the heartlanding, but it must be.
He glances at Arisanna’s fully dressed form at his side, and memories of how it felt to run his hands along her bare flesh draw out his heat.
Will she regret it when she wakes? Old, familiar doubts fill him—doubts about himself. Despite the words Mother whispered in his ear all his life, questions still plague him.
Is he enough?
Arisanna stirs at his side, and he doesn’t speak or move. Then she stiffens before turning wide eyes toward him. “Stars above.”
Is that good, or...?
“I feel very overdressed now,” she whispers, and he stares at her for a moment before laughter sneaks up on him, and she buries her face in his bare shoulder.
“I always say such ridiculous things to you. We have the most amazing night together, and I wake up and say that.” She groans, and he wraps his arm around her, her familiar form melting against him.
She doesn’t regret it. The knowledge floods him with warmth, filling the vulnerable parts of his heart. His feelings for her glimmer so brightly that he just wants more of her. More moments with nothing between them.
Her words bounce around inside his head, and before he can talk himself out of it, he whispers, “There’s a simple solution if you feel overdressed.”
Her head snaps up. “Cerian!”
Perhaps he should have kept that thought to himself.
Then she pokes his bare chest. “You’d probably catch fire.”
Relief fills him at the smile on her face. “I’d definitely catch fire.”
Already, his fire magic is growing hotter.
“I love you,” she says. Without waiting for him to respond, she finds his lips, and he doesn’t even stop to think as he guides her on top of him.
“Your fire magic,” she whispers.
“Ignore it.”
She pulls back and frowns. “Ignore it? Ignore the part where you light the bed on fire?”
“My mother can put it out with her water magic.” He tugs Arisanna close again as she laughs, but she eagerly returns his kisses, and before he can temper his reaction, his hands take on a mind of their own. To his relief, she leans into his touch, but his control grows more tenuous by the moment.
Groaning, he pulls away. If only he really could ignore the fire threatening to engulf them both. It’s a little easier to control this morning, but his palms are tingling, and he doesn’t want to explain why their bed caught fire.
Not that his family couldn’t guess.
More to the point, he doesn’t want to hurt Arisanna.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “My...my magic—”
“Is amazing. Last night was amazing. You’re amazing.” She presses her lips to his cheek before rolling to the bed beside him. “We should check on Rominy and Elowyn, anyway. Face the hard parts during the day. Get lost in each other at night.”
Elowyn. Whistling wind.
Cerian bolts upright on the bed. “Where’s my shirt?”
“I think I laid it on the table last night. You forgot, didn’t you?” There’s no judgment in her voice. If anything, she seems happy, as if she’s glad she has that effect on him. Does she feel vulnerable, too? Perhaps he can reassure her.
“You’re beautiful,” he says softly. It was the first thing that popped into his head, and he cringes. He could have done better than that. “I...I like your hair.”
That wasn’t much better. He sounds like a half-grown elf barely coming into his magic. They experience their first joining, and he compliments her hair? He likes other parts of her even more.
None of those words seem eager to trip off his tongue, though—in Elvish or Nunian—and he groans. “I’m still not good at this.”
“At what?”
“At the thoughts. Putting my words into them.” He pauses and frowns. “I said that in the wrong order.”
“You’re doing fine. And I adore you.”
“I really just wanted to say that I...I want to get lost in you again soon. You’re amazing, too.”
He sends her a hesitant gaze, and her entire face lights up. Maybe he got it right that time.
“So do I,” she says as she trails her fingers down his cheek. “Soon. For now, though, there’s a hearth in here. Maybe let off some of your heat before we join the others?”
He probably should. Anyone who comes near him will feel the warmth radiating from his body.
Standing, he reaches for his leather shirt when Arisanna says, “The heat probably dissipates faster without it.”
He snaps his gaze toward her where she sits at the edge of the bed, her mouth twitching as she tries not to smile.
“I’m just saying...” She shrugs.
She likes him shirtless. That’s what she’s saying.
The gleam in her eyes makes him want to crawl back in bed with her and not leave.
“Don’t catch the rug on fire,” she whispers as she glances at his hand.
Whistling wind. He shakes off the flame growing from his palm and leaves the shirt on the table as he strides toward the fireplace to let off some of this heat.
Arisanna watches Cerian’s muscles flex as memories of his body against hers flood her mind.
Does it count as an official consummation of their marriage when it happens in the heartlanding? It sure felt real. Not that she has anything to compare it to.
Her thoughts are interrupted by a knock, and Cerian glances at the door before looking back at her. Tension fills his eyes as his expression shutters, and she sighs softly. He’s growing so free with her. Especially last night. It’s hard watching those walls go back up.
The knock sounds again, followed by Tharios calling, “Are you awake yet, Cer? I need your help.”
Arisanna’s stomach drops as Cerian’s guarded expression morphs into fear. He extinguishes his flames and wrenches open the door. “What’s wrong? Is it Elowyn?”
Tharios eyes his bare chest, and Arisanna’s face heats. Maybe she should have let Cerian put his shirt on.
Cerian barely seems to notice Tharios’s reaction to his state of dress. He’s too tied up in worry.
“Forgive me,” Tharios says. “I didn’t mean to alarm you. Elowyn held steady through the night, but I finally convinced Father to go to bed, and she’s still too hot for me to touch. I need to check her wound, and I was hoping you could—”
“Of course.”
Arisanna hands Cerian his shirt, and he looks at it before glancing down at his bare chest and then up at Tharios, who isn’t even trying not to smile.
Then Tharios turns to Arisanna. “Come talk to me sometime today, all right? Healer’s orders.”
Healer’s orders?
She glances at Cerian, but he looks as confused as she is. He says nothing, though, as he pulls his shirt over his head.
“All right,” she says. “How’s Rominy?”
“He still slumbers, and I’ve been in no hurry to wake him. I imagine he’s happy where he is, and his heart rate is steadier when he’s asleep. Do you have any objections?”
“Me?” She frowns.
“According to elven practice, with Elowyn ill and your parents elsewhere, decisions about Rominy’s well-being while he’s in a magic-induced sleep fall to you, Arisanna,” Tharios says gently.
“Oh. Well. I suppose he’d want whatever is best for Elowyn.”
“Right now, that means keeping his heart rate as steady as possible.”
“Then let him sleep.”
Tharios nods before looking at Cerian again. “Ready?”
“May I join you?” Arisanna asks.
“Of course,” Tharios says. “Just try not to light Cerian on fire. I can smell the smoke on you, little brother.”
“I should light you on fire.” Cerian shoves past Tharios, who winks at Arisanna before following Cerian down the hallway toward Elowyn’s room.
Well. That was awkward.
Cerian didn’t even put on his boots. Will he want them? She eyes them for a moment before grabbing them and hurrying after him.
When she slips into Elowyn’s room, Tharios and Cerian hover over the bed whispering while Viala stands quietly nearby.
Rominy and Elowyn look so peaceful sleeping side by side. She’s still pale, but not as deathly gray as she was last night. It’s encouraging to see.
It’s hard to remember Rominy’s life hangs in the balance as well. He looks strong and healthy as his heart beats for both of them.
Has anyone sent a telegram to Mother and Father? They should know Rominy is in danger. Mother would be a nervous mess, but she deserves the truth.
Surely Jonas alerted someone in Levina.
Arisanna steps back into the hallway to speak to the familiar guard where he stands watch over his prince.
“Jonas?”
“Your Highness. How may I help you?”
“Has anyone alerted my parents about what’s going on?”
“Yes, Princess. One of my men sent a telegram as soon as we reached Feressa.”
“Thank you.”
“Of course, Your Highness. Is the prince still sleeping?”
“He is. Prince Tharios intends to keep him that way for the time being. He’s well looked after if you want to rest. There’s more powerful magic in that room than you can imagine.”
“Is that an order, Your Highness?”
The question startles her. She’s never been the ranking royal responsible for commanding anyone.
Jonas looks exhausted, though. He must have instructed his men to sleep while he stood watch all night.
“Yes, Jonas,” she says softly. “Sleep while you are able. You can’t do anything to help Rominy that isn’t already being done.”
Jonas nods. “Very well, Princess. For a short time.”
He turns and strides down the hallway, and Arisanna slips back inside Elowyn’s room, only to stop short.
Stars above. What is Viala doing?