Episode 76 Smells Like Smoke
Smells Like Smoke
Dread fills Cerian as Arisanna slips away, closing the door to the water closet behind her.
He’d rather be in there with her. Memories of his vine sliding along her body fill his head.
He’d definitely rather be in there with her.
The knocking repeats, and he forces himself not to glance at the window. He told Arisanna he’d do this, so he will. Somehow.
Breathing out slowly, he steps toward the door and reaches for the knob when it turns against his hand.
Whistling wind. Thank the fates Arisanna’s mother didn’t barge in a few minutes ago.
“Oh.” The queen startles at his presence. “Good afternoon, Cerian. I was expecting Arisanna, though I suppose this is your room, too.”
His brows feel awkward as he tries to arrange them in a friendly way, but it all seems wrong. It’s not as if he thinks about it when he scowls at people. It just sort of happens.
What does a non-glare feel like? He must look ridiculous, adjusting his face into what probably looks nothing like Arisanna had in mind.
The queen’s own brows quirk as she looks at Cerian’s forehead, but she says nothing.
“Is Arisanna here?” Queen Yalisa asks, and Cerian nods.
Words. He should use words.
“Yes.”
That was undoubtedly unhelpful, but his tongue feels thick in his mouth, and he doesn’t attempt to speak again.
“I don’t see her.”
He pushes his tongue to cooperate. “She’s...”
Can he tell Arisanna’s mother she’s getting dressed?
That would imply she was previously not dressed. Would Arisanna wish for him to share that?
“She’s in the water closet,” he eventually manages.
Vague horror slips across the queen’s face. “We don’t usually discuss such things in Nunia.”
He frowns. They don’t talk about water closets?
Whistling wind, he’s scowling. He forces his brows up, but that just feels ridiculous.
“Are you well, Cerian?” the queen asks as she eyes his forehead again. “Aside from dear Elowyn being sick. Are you close to your sister?”
A lump forms in his throat, and he nods.
“May I come in?” the queen asks. “Humans don’t usually converse while congregating in corridors.”
He didn’t invite her in. He should have done that.
Without speaking, he steps aside and gestures to the room behind him. Hopefully, Arisanna will finish soon. Thoughts of her in that towel warm him, but he pushes them away.
“I think there may be something wrong with your flue,” her mother says as she wanders toward the hearth.
His what?
“It smells like smoke,” she continues. “It’s stronger than it was when I was in here before. You should have the front desk send someone to examine it. All this smoke can’t be healthy.”
She pushes open the window, and he longs to crawl through it and disappear from this encounter.
He’s certainly not planning to tell the queen Arisanna lights him on fire. Especially when Arisanna stands there with glistening wet skin and hair as water drips along her gorgeous legs and...
That’s not helpful.
Her mother has awful timing.
Arisanna smelled like berries when he buried his nose against her neck. It was delightful. He could have drunk in her scent for hours. She hasn’t complained, but he probably could stand to bathe, too.
The image that thought creates in his mind leaves him shaking his head to clear it and pulling back the vine that somehow found its way under the water closet door again.
As if his fire magic wasn’t trouble enough.
At least his vines are fun to play with.
Whistling wind. That’s definitely not helpful.
“You prefer the window closed?” the queen asks. She must have noticed him shaking his head.
His tongue sticks, but he manages, “No.”
He definitely prefers fresh air. Especially traipsing through the woods with Arisanna.
Perhaps he should just accept that she’ll consume his thoughts while she’s out of sight.
All the time, really.
Surely she’s dressed by now. Should he check on her?
No, of course he shouldn’t check on her. He shakes his head again.
“Are you sure you’re well? This...lack of balance Elowyn has. It’s not contagious, is it?”
To his shock, she lifts a hand to his forehead, and he stumbles backward, almost tripping over a chair.
“I don’t know, Cerian. You feel warm to me. Perhaps you should let a doctor, or whatever you call them, look you over just in case.”
“Mother.” Arisanna smiles from near the water closet, and relief fills Cerian so strongly that he almost topples over. Arisanna’s eyes alight with gentle humor and warmth. She must have heard her mother’s concern about his health.
“I think Cerian may be coming down with whatever Elowyn has, Arisanna. Does he feel warm to you?”
“He’s always warm, Mother. He’s a fire wielder. It’s normal.”
He could kiss Arisanna for leaving out the part where she sets him on fire. But not now. Not with her mother here.
“Oh. Well. Why didn’t you say something, Cerian?” the queen asks.
“I’m sure he’s tired, Mother. We all are. It’s been a long couple of days.”
“I’m sure it has. It’s all right, though. I’m here now to care for you both.”
Horror fills Cerian, and he snaps his gaze to Arisanna. She offers him an apologetic smile, and he swallows his dismay.
Or tries to, at any rate.
“Your hair is wet, Arisanna,” the queen observes.
“That’s what happens when one washes it, Mother,” Arisanna says with a soft sigh.
“It just seems like an odd time to bathe, but perhaps things are done differently in Lostariel. You really should pin up your hair while you’re here, though. What will people think?”
Arisanna’s smile fades as she looks down at her hands. “I may need to borrow some hairpins. We left Darlei in a hurry.”
“No,” Cerian says, the word bursting from him before he can think better of it. Both women look at him, and he clears his throat.
He can do this. Be Arisanna’s champion and protector.
He needs to do this. For her.
“She’s perfect just the way she is,” he whispers. “I like her hair down.”
The queen shakes her head and heaves a sigh. “I suppose we’ll all have to get used to your elven ways.”
The warmth in Arisanna’s eyes is unmistakable, and she mouths a thank-you to him when her mother isn’t looking.
He can’t put words to any of the thoughts and feelings in his head as he returns her gaze, but somehow she seems to understand how desperately he loves her all the same.
“Why am I so sleepy?” Rominy asks. “None of this is even real.”
“Are you sure you don’t wish to go to bed?
” Elowyn mumbles groggily where she leans against his side on the sofa in their little cottage.
The sun set hours ago. At least, it felt like hours.
It’s impossible to say how much time has passed outside their dream world.
She can barely keep her eyes open, though.
Her exhaustion from the real world seems to be seeping into their heartlanding.
Rominy sighs as he rubs his eyes. “I think I’m going to fall asleep soon whether I want to or not.”
Elowyn can’t call up words to respond, but a moment later, her eyes flash open when he lifts her off the sofa.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have kept you up,” he whispers. “I wasn’t thinking. Just relax now, love. I’ve got you.”
She gives in to the exhaustion coursing through her and curls against his chest as he carries her to the little bedroom with the big bed.
“Do you want to sleep in this?” he asks. He seems in no rush to put her down as he eyes the white gown she changed back into after their dinner negotiations concluded earlier.
“This is fine,” she murmurs.
With a nod, he lowers her to the bed, and she crawls under the covers. The silky sheets are cool against her skin, and she floods them with heat from her fire magic. That’s better.
Her gaze lands on Rominy where he stands with his back to her as he tugs his loose linen shirt over his head. He’s so strong, for a human.
He glances over his shoulder at her, and she smiles. “You’re very nice to look at, my love.”
That nervous laugh of his escapes his throat, and he scratches his brow. “I recall you saying as much by our waterfall.”
“Mmm. Yes. And I recall all the words your eyes shouted as you looked at me.”
“I’m pretty sure there were actual words involved.”
“I remember those, too.”
“So you’re just going to watch me now?” he asks as he turns to face her.
“I am your...wife. Am I not?”
The corners of his mouth tick up, and he nods. “You are definitely my wife.” He strips to his small clothes and crawls under the covers beside her. “This bed is really soft.”
“It’s not like an elven bed. We sleep on moss,” she whispers as she snuggles against him.
“You what? You sleep on moss?”
“Yes. But I am enjoying these human beds. They’re so comfortable. Especially when you’re in them with me.”
“I’m still processing this idea of a bed made of moss. Do you gather it?”
Weary laughter fills her. “No, we grow it. Well, I don’t. But plant wielders do.”
“That’s fascinating.” He wraps his arm around her, and she nestles closer, resting her hand over his heart.
“I love you, Rominy,” she murmurs as her eyelids grow heavy again.
“And I love you. Sleep now, El. Stay strong. You have to show me these moss beds soon, remember?”
“Always, my love.” With a contented sigh, she relaxes at his side and lets sleep carry her away.