Episode 96 Love Her Freely
Love Her Freely
Once they leave Elowyn’s room, Arisanna looks weary, but she sets out toward the hotel door to find her parents.
“Arisanna, wait.”
When she turns back to Cerian, he glances at all the people milling about the corridor. Rominy’s guards stand at Elowyn’s door, and Mother and Father converse with Grandmera and Viala in quiet Elvish.
What was he planning to do with so many people present? He just wanted to hold Arisanna for a moment—be to her what she is to him—but she might not appreciate that right now.
It’s just his family, though. And those guards. And she did hang on him as they traversed Feressa together.
“I...I was going to offer you a hug, but now I’m unsure you would want that so publicly,” he whispers to her.
“Just a hug?” A teasing glint joins the weariness in her eyes and draws out her smile, and he relaxes a little.
Rather than answer, he holds out his hand, and she barely hesitates to lean into his chest as he wraps his arms around her and sends her a bit of his warmth. Not that she said she was cold, but she loves to be warm. At least that’s what she told him earlier.
Her contented sigh makes him smile. He must have got it right. Thoughts of all the sighs and whispers of his name he heard on her lips this morning fill him, but his heat isn’t as restless as it has been. Apparently, using it helps.
Father did say it would get easier.
A sudden cry makes them both jump.
Queen Yalisa stands nearby, and Arisanna steps away from Cerian so fast she trips over his foot, and he barely catches her before she falls.
Panicked words about Rominy’s state of health escape the queen so quickly that Cerian can barely translate them.
“He’s fine, Mother,” Arisanna says. Her cheeks are rosy. Is she embarrassed? Of course she’s embarrassed. But it was just a hug.
“The way you were wrapped up together made me think something terrible must have happened! Honestly, Arisanna.”
Everyone is staring at them now. Whistling wind. It was just a hug.
“I’m sorry, Mother. I was coming to find you.”
“We’re all on edge,” King Gerault says quietly. “The important thing is that Rominy and Elowyn are well.”
“Yes,” the queen says. “Of course. Your elven ways will just take time for me to adjust to.”
Arisanna sighs, but it’s not one of the happy little sounds Cerian loves drawing out of her. And she keeps her distance from him, not meeting his eyes.
“Forgive my wife.”
Cerian turns in surprise to Arisanna’s father, who seems to be speaking so only Cerian can hear.
“She likes her world ordered. It helps her cope when her life spirals out of her control.”
Cerian stares at his father-in-law.
“You understand how that feels, don’t you?” the king continues, and Cerian barely nods.
Of course he understands that. Better than most, probably.
“You just keep loving my daughter, and I’ll keep loving my wife, and we’ll all adjust in time, all right?” King Gerault lays a hand on Cerian’s shoulder.
“I’ll do my best.” He pushes the words out, forcing the scowl off his face, or trying, at any rate. How long has he been scowling?
King Gerault claps him on the shoulder before joining the conversation between Arisanna and her mother.
Arisanna still hasn’t looked at Cerian.
Thoughts of their secluded suite fill his head, but he pushes them aside. He won’t run.
Soon, Tharios emerges from Elowyn’s room, and all eyes turn expectantly toward him.
“From what Rominy was able to communicate, I believe Elowyn was indeed very near death, but she is recovering, and her mind is well. The worst is behind us, and I expect her to be her normal self again with time.”
Cerian leans a hand against the wall when his legs wobble beneath him at the mixed terror and relief Tharios’s words create in him.
She’s all right. She’s going to be all right. That’s the important part.
A soft hand slides against his, and he turns to Arisanna where she stands at his side. Her parents now converse with Tharios.
“I...” She struggles to find words, and he doesn’t rush her. Then she lets go of his hand and wraps her arms around his neck instead, burying her face against him. “I’m sorry.”
He just holds her. Breathes in the scent of the berry soap clinging to her hair from this morning. Cocoons her in warmth.
“I’m a Westaria now,” she whispers. “I’m pretty sure that means I get to hug you in public.”
His lips twitch into a grin. “I believe it does.”
Mother’s and Father’s voices drift toward Rominy from outside the door, and he sighs. He should get up. Assure them he’s all right.
Be strong. Capable.
Functioning.
But he doesn’t want to leave Elowyn’s side.
“I’ll be back, love,” he whispers. “I promise. And I won’t go far.”
Elowyn doesn’t move or respond, but he didn’t expect her to. Not really. Though part of him hoped she might.
He sits up and swings his legs to the floor. At least the room stopped spinning. He probably looks like a mess with his hair unkempt and a prickle of a beard. He’s always clean-shaven in the heartlanding. Does that mean Elowyn prefers him that way?
He should ask her sometime.
He plods toward the door and, as quietly as possible, slips into the corridor, bracing himself for Mother’s response. Not that he begrudges her anything. She’s always been so fearful of something happening to him, as if twenty-two years after his birth, she still can’t believe he’s hers to keep.
Hopefully, he can put her at ease.
“Rominy!” She chokes back a sob, and he draws her to his chest.
“I’m all right, Mother. The danger has passed.”
Father’s face is full of emotion, too, as he wraps his arms around both of them.
The pull to return to Elowyn is strong, but he lets his parents hold him. Reassures them he’s well.
That he’s not dying inside without Elowyn.
When he lifts his eyes to Elowyn’s father, King Lorial’s gaze pierces his facade of strength.
He understands. The thought is comforting.
It makes Rominy feel less alone.
Eventually, Mother collects herself, and Father lets them go.
The world around Rominy fades into a blur of people discussing what comes next and encouraging Rominy to eat and putting food in front of him at the little table in Elowyn’s room.
He goes through the motions, though whether he ate chicken or steak is a question he can’t answer once the half-empty plate is carted away.
Few people attempt to draw him into conversation, which is for the best. He just wants to sit with Elowyn again.
Never leave her side.
When King Lorial leads him to a chair beside Elowyn’s bed, relief fills him. Even being across the room was a struggle, as if the magic of the heartbinding wants him to stay close to her.
He didn’t feel this pull so strongly before. It’s overwhelming in its intensity.
“Am I supposed to feel like I can’t think straight unless I’m beside her?” he asks quietly.
“At times,” King Lorial says. “Though I wonder if perhaps her essence is using yours as a tether right now.”
“I believe she’s trying to wake,” Tharios says as he checks her vital signs once more. “It’s possible she’s using you to pull herself back to us.”
The thought makes Rominy’s heart race, but he takes a deep breath. “Can I help her?”
“Just stay beside her,” Tharios says. “Be her guiding star as she finds her way from the darkness.”
As if anyone could drag him away now.
Her father leans closer. “I spoke to Tharios. Elowyn needs to limit her fire magic in the real world and may for a while. Beyond that, love her freely, Rominy. In whatever way you both desire.”
Rominy stares up at him. “Are you saying she doesn’t need to hold back her fire magic in the heartlanding?”
“You’ll have to interpret my words as you are able.
I, too, am bound by the magic of the heartlanding.
But I believe Tharios would tell you to feel free to set her on fire when you meet her in her dreams.” King Lorial squeezes Rominy’s shoulder before stepping away, and Rominy gulps as heat fills him.
That was an odd thing to discuss with Elowyn’s father, but he’s grateful. Something to tuck away for later.
Right now, he just wants Elowyn to wake. To see her smile. Hear her voice. He reaches for her hand and draws it to his lips. Presses it to his cheek. Whispers all sorts of random nonsense to her in Elvish and Nunian.
Occasionally, Tharios and his parents check on him. Someone brings him more food, which he eats without giving it much thought.
“Return to me, love,” he murmurs near her cheek as he brushes her hair back from her face. His thumb grazes the tip of her ear, and she moans. It’s quiet. Barely audible over the sudden pounding of his heart. Did he imagine it?
“Tharios!” he cries.
The elf prince is immediately there, checking Elowyn’s pulse again. “You need to breathe, Rominy.”
He forces one breath and another, and Queen Nestraya is there to coach him.
Then he hears it as he clings to Elowyn’s hand—her voice, weak and scratchy yet somehow the most beautiful sound in his world.
“Rominy.”