Episode 10 Trains, Dresses and Otherwise
Trains, Dresses and Otherwise
Cerian is more solid than his slender frame would suggest.
As he holds Arisanna steady, she tries not to focus on the way he was looking at her earlier. Combined with the way his arms feel around her now.
Mother did say to follow his lead. Arisanna didn’t think there would be a train involved, though.
“Are you all right?” Cerian asks. The train lurches again, and he tightens his hold on her.
“I think so? Will you tell me what’s going on?”
“It’s...it’s part of the heartbinding. Our heartlanding. Apparently, it’s a train.”
He doesn’t sound happy about it. Is it the fact that it’s a train? Or is it being here with her? Or is it because she’s underdressed? At least his trousers cover both his legs.
“What is this...heartlanding?” she asks.
“It’s...a place for us to bond, I suppose.”
Bond? Is that why she’s wearing...whatever this is? Are they going to...bond? Perhaps that word has other connotations in Elvish.
The train stops, and Cerian releases her.
“So...what now?” she asks.
“I’m not sure. Perhaps we’re supposed to get off.”
She follows him to the exit, and as she steps out of the train car, she almost tips over. The woods? How did they get here? Is any of this real?
When she turns around, there’s no train. Just yellow light pouring from the open doorway, silhouetted by the murky forest. So they can get back on the imaginary train if they want?
She definitely wants to get back on the train.
A screech startles her, and she clutches at Cerian.
“It’s just an owl,” he mutters.
Right. She knew that.
As demurely as possible, she releases her hold on his arm. She’s supposed to follow his lead. Not throw herself at him.
“I’m not familiar with these woods,” he says.
“Perhaps we should return to the train.”
Another screech makes her jump.
“You’d rather be on a train than in the woods?” The space between his brows wrinkles.
“Yes?” She swallows. “Perhaps there’s a sleeping car. That would be a better place for...bonding.”
He stills before swinging his head toward her. “I think I used the wrong word.” He translates into Elvish, and she relaxes a little, though her ensuing mortification threatens to swallow her whole.
“No, you used it right. I just misunderstood.”
“I see.” He eyes her for a moment before looking away. “I doubt there would be time before the illusion ended. Father said the initial experience of the heartlanding is usually short unless one member of the binding is unconscious.”
Well. Thank the heavens for small mercies.
Unless they’re both unconscious right now.
At least Cerian is being more forthcoming than he was before.
“So this will happen again?” she asks.
“Yes. Perhaps frequently if the magic feels it would benefit us.”
“Benefit us?”
Cerian shrugs and steps away from the glowing doorway. Apparently, he’s reached his word limit for the moment.
With a slight huff, she follows him as she pulls her cloak tight around her. No need to give him more of a show than necessary if they didn’t come here to...bond.
“Shh.” He puts his finger to his lips, and she treads lightly as they emerge into a clearing with a silvery lake. Moonlight glistens on the placid surface as tiny ripples flow from one side, where a doe and her fawn drink from the water’s edge.
A gasp slips from Arisanna’s throat at the spectacular sight, and the doe stares toward them as her large ear twitches. Then she bounds away with her fawn trailing behind her.
“Sorry,” Arisanna whispers.
Cerian shrugs. “The beauty of the woods is an eternal stream of ephemeral moments strung together, one after another. When one moment ends, a new one soon takes its place. Look.”
She’s more shocked by the poetic nature of his observation than by the swan that gracefully lands on the moonlit lake. Before she can respond, the entire scene transforms back into the room at the castle, where she lies in a heap of petticoats and hoops beneath her monster of a gown.
Perhaps that other dress wasn’t so bad after all.
“They’re waking up!” Mother’s voice intrudes on Arisanna’s thoughts, and she bites back a groan at the sight of Mother hovering over her.
“Permit them some space.” Cerian’s father’s voice carries from the edge of the room. “The return from the heartlanding can be disorienting.”
Is that why the room is swaying?
“Are you all right, darling? What did you see?” Mother asks.
Well, she’s certainly not going to tell Mother about her gown. Arisanna opens her mouth to describe the lake instead, but no words come. It’s as if her voice has ceased functioning.
“She can’t speak of it,” King Lorial says. “It’s for her and Cerian alone.”
Mother doesn’t look pleased with his answer, but she lets it go.
That’s actually a relief. Arisanna’s mortification at the entire experience needn’t be on display for anyone besides her new husband.
For whatever that’s worth.
“Your gown is going to be wrinkled and dirty when you pick yourself up off the floor,” Mother says. “I should have laid a blanket for you to collapse upon.”
Arisanna has doubts about her ability to pick herself up off anything with this ludicrous dress on. Unless she wants to flash her new husband a view of her hoops and petticoats.
Which is actually probably more modest than the view she already gave him on the train.
King Lorial doesn’t need to see that, though.
Where is Cerian, anyway? She can’t see much around her voluminous skirts.
And where’s Father?
“How is Mother?” Cerian asks quietly. He’s somewhere near her feet from the sound of it.
“She’s already improving,” King Lorial says. “Thank you, my elfling.”
Cerian doesn’t respond.
“She went with King Gerault to check on Elowyn and Prince Rominy,” King Lorial continues. “When you feel up to it, we’ll join them. We should give them some space, Yalisa.”
That seems to be low on Mother’s list of priorities, but she lets the elf king lead her from the room.
Once they’re alone, Cerian doesn’t speak, and neither does Arisanna. She doesn’t bother trying to move, either.
Before long, Cerian’s face appears in the air above her, and he frowns. “Are you all right?”
“I seem to be trapped in a sea of skirts and stays.”
“Stays?”
Whelp. That was the wrong thing to say.
He is her husband, though.
“It’s an undergarment worn tightly around the torso to nip in the waist.”
His frown grows. “Why would you wear such a thing? Isn’t it uncomfortable?”
“Extremely. Beauty is apparently more important than comfort.”
“You don’t need these...stays...to be beautiful.”
As soon as he says it, his cheeks take on a rosy hue, and Arisanna’s own face heats.
“Th-thank you.”
He clears his throat. “Do you want my help?”
“I think I’m going to need it.”
To her shock, rather than offering her a hand, he slips his long fingers around her waist and lifts her from the floor, setting her on her feet.
“Your train has come loose again,” he says. “Are all these layers necessary? Couldn’t you leave some behind?”
Now there’s a thought, though she pushes away the awareness that he’s asking her to remove some of her clothing.
She could remove half the layers she’s wearing and still be more covered than she was in that dress on the train.
At the very least, she could abandon her hoops. Though what would Mother say?
“I’m not sure my mother would approve.”
He studies her for a moment before glancing at her skirts again.
Oh, blast it all.
“Turn around?” she says. “Unless you think you need to watch this.”
Disbelief crosses his face before he turns away from her, and she hurries to lift her full skirts out of the way.
After loosening the belt holding her hoop skirt at her waist, she lets it fall and steps out of it. The hem of her gown brushes the floor more than it should now, but Arisanna sighs in relief.
“That’s a lot better,” she says, and Cerian glances over his shoulder at her before turning back to face her.
“I agree. Let me fix your train before we go.”
It’s even more awkward without the hoops, but soon Cerian is done, and he opens the door for her so they can rejoin the others.
Next is the wedding feast.
Then she’ll be alone with Cerian again.
For the entire night.