Episode 8 My Heart Is for You
My Heart Is for You
Arisanna watches nervously as her eyes meet Prince Cerian’s. Will he actually kiss her?
His lips press together in a thin line, and she licks her own lips in nervous anticipation.
She’s not eager to kiss him, but she’s even less thrilled at the idea of him snubbing her in front of all these people.
Then, so fast that she wonders if she imagined it, he ducks toward her and kisses her, though whether or not his lips actually touched hers is impossible to say.
Regardless, it’s over now, and before she has time to think about it, they’ve been presented as a married couple and ushered back up the aisle behind Rominy and Princess Elowyn.
Someone leads them to a private room for just the two of them before closing the door, and Prince Cerian immediately drops her hand and turns away.
He really doesn’t want anything to do with her, does he? Should she be surprised?
“I’m sorry,” she says softly in Elvish.
He spins toward her. “What?”
“I know you don’t want to be married to me.”
He says nothing at first, and her stomach knots.
“Your dress is...nice,” he eventually says, but his face contorts in thinly veiled disgust. At least he’s trying, even if his sincerity is questionable.
Arisanna straightens to her full height. “I hate it.”
His eyes snap to hers again. “Then why wear it?”
She shrugs. “My mother.”
He nods as if he can understand that, and perhaps he can. That’s why he’s doing this himself, isn’t it? For his mother?
“Does it have to be so...enormous?” He gestures to the skirt, and Arisanna almost laughs.
“It’s all the petticoats and hoops underneath.” She switches to Nunian when the word for petticoats escapes her.
“And these are...necessary?” he asks in Nunian, following her lead.
“I suppose it depends on who you ask. The train buttons up, though.”
His brows furrow. “You’re wearing a locomotive?”
That does elicit a laugh from her. “Not a locomotive. The trailing skirt. Here, I’ll demonstrate.”
She feels very self-conscious as he watches, but he’s not scowling at her at the moment, and that seems worth the potential embarrassment.
Plus, they’re married now, so there’s that.
She reaches for the loops sewn into the train and then searches for the buttons on her skirt. Prince Cerian watches with a look of appalled curiosity.
Of course, with her stays, she can’t bend enough to locate the buttons. “I suppose it will have to wait. I can’t manage it by myself.”
She drops the train and suppresses a huff of frustration. She can barely maneuver in this monstrosity.
“Would you...like help?”
Arisanna looks at Prince Cerian in surprise. “Do you mind? It’s just a few loops of thread that fit over some buttons.”
His expression remains neutral, and he only hesitates for a moment before finding the loops again. Arisanna stands awkwardly as he hovers behind her. Her multitudes of petticoats hide all but the faintest pressure as he fumbles with her train, but soon, he steps back, and she can move again.
“It’s still enormous,” he says.
“Yes, but at least I can walk without getting twisted up in it. Thank you, Prince Cerian.”
“Cerian.”
“What?” She meets his eyes again.
“Just Cerian.”
“All right. Cerian.”
He nods and turns toward the small window at the side of the room. It seems he’s done talking.
Until the heartbinding takes place, that is.
Hopefully, Rominy is managing all right. Queen Nestraya is overseeing his and Princess Elowyn’s binding ceremony first.
All too soon, it will be Arisanna and Cerian’s turn.
And then there really will be no going back.
As soon as they’re alone, Princess Elowyn turns to Rominy. “We seem to have survived.”
He chuckles nervously. “Yes.”
At least his voice sounds fairly normal.
“Do you want me to help your heart slow?”
“Have you really been dealing with my nerves all your life?”
It’s an embarrassing thought.
She shrugs. “I’m used to it. Breathe with me.” Facing him, she repeats the breathing pattern she led him in this morning, and soon his heart rate returns to some semblance of normal.
“Thank you, Elowyn.”
She smiles up at him and nods. “Of course. I believe I promised to take care of you for the rest of our lives. This is part of that.”
His panic mounts again at her words, and she tilts her head knowingly as compassion fills her gray eyes. “Rominy.”
“Sorry. I’m sorry.”
She opens her mouth to respond, but before she can speak, the door bursts open to reveal Mother, followed swiftly by Father. King Lorial enters more sedately with his weakened queen on his arm.
Then the door closes again. Not even Prince Tharios is present. This heartbinding really is a private thing, isn’t it?
“A beautiful ceremony,” Mother announces.
“Yes,” Queen Nestraya says in a soft voice, though her eyes betray a slight amusement that draws out Rominy’s smile.
“Are you ready, young ones?” King Lorial asks.
Elowyn glances Rominy’s way. “I am. I think. I hope.”
That was less than reassuring. The elves didn’t really explain what the heartbinding would entail. Just that it might be intense.
“I...” Rominy glances around. “Yes. I’m ready.”
“We will begin, then.” Queen Nestraya gestures to the rug. “Please, sit.”
“On the floor?” Mother asks.
“The children. You may find a chair if you’d like,” Queen Nestraya says. “I don’t want them to fall.”
Fall? What did Rominy just agree to do?
Mother and Father look troubled, but they draw up wooden chairs from the nearby table as Rominy lowers himself to the floor facing Elowyn. The elf queen and king join them to form something of a circle.
“Are you ready, my love?” Queen Nestraya looks into her husband’s eyes, and Rominy stares at his hands as she continues. “This may strain our own heartbinding.”
Rominy looks up in surprise. Elowyn’s parents are heartbound? Not just...regular bound? They said heartbindings were rare—to save lives—didn’t they?
“I am ready.” King Lorial looks from Elowyn to Rominy. “Place your palms together.”
Elowyn holds out her hands expectantly. Resisting the urge to wipe his sweaty palms on his formal trousers first, Rominy presses his hands to hers. Elowyn threads her fingers between his, and his already-racing heart accelerates even more.
“Don’t be alarmed by the magic,” Queen Nestraya says. “I will say the words in Nunian. Then Elowyn will say them in Elvish for you to repeat, Prince Rominy.”
Rominy nods as his stomach churns.
“My heart is for you. There is no other.”
Elowyn translates, and Rominy does his best not to mangle the words. A tingling sensation forms where their palms touch.
“My soul is a well unto yours. May you find refreshment in me.”
As Elowyn says the words in Elvish, she gazes into his eyes, and he almost forgets to breathe. Tendrils of light wrap around their joined hands when he repeats the Elvish words.
“My light will fill your darkness, and when my light wanes, yours will guide me.”
The tendrils of magic expand from their hands along their arms as Rominy pushes back his panic and says the words.
“My heart to yours. Your soul to mine. Our bodies as one until the beating of our hearts fades.”
Rominy stumbles a little over the words, but King Lorial encourages him with a quiet prompting.
The magical light has reached their chests, where it burns against Rominy’s skin beneath his shirt and waistcoat. Elowyn’s fingers dig into the back of his hands, and he struggles not to crush her palms within his own.
“From this moment on, our two hearts beat as one. I bind myself to you until my end of days.”
When Rominy finishes grunting out the words, the pain and the heat and the room around them all fade away. He opens his eyes to find himself standing on the deck of a small sailing vessel.
A gentle, briny breeze plays with his hair and whips at the simple white shirt he wears. It’s open in a V over his upper chest, and the sleeves are rolled up to expose his forearms. His trousers have been cut off just past the knee, and the threads of a ragged set of hems tickle his legs.
He whips around. “Where are we?”
“Is this the sea? I’ve never seen the sea.
” Elowyn is dressed in an all-white, sleeveless gown that drapes gracefully across her slender frame.
The asymmetrical hem hits at mid-calf across one leg and above the knee on her other leg.
Her feet are bare, and her silver hair dances in the wind, revealing the tips of her pointed ears.
Rominy almost loses his balance, but he clutches at a nearby rope to steady himself. If Mother thought the other elven attire was indecent, she’d be completely scandalized by Elowyn’s appearance now. He should probably look away from her, but he can’t.
She’s gorgeous. Absolutely breathtaking.
And somehow, they’re now on a boat in the middle of the sea.
Alone.
“Elowyn,” he says hesitantly. “What just happened?”