Episode 30 Holding Back
Holding Back
It’s not the first time Cerian’s been dropped from a great height, but he wasn’t expecting it from Mother.
Reaching out with his plant magic, he calls for his own vines to catch him, and just before he hits the ground, one wraps around his waist and slows his descent, setting him lightly on his feet.
“Bravo, my elfling.” Mother claps, and Cerian eyes her warily.
A new vine flies toward him, but he scrambles away.
“Why was that your first impulse?” Mother calls out. “Why not use your magic?”
“Does it matter? It worked.”
“I’m just trying to understand why you’re holding back.”
Another vine snakes toward him, and he rolls away from it before finding his feet again. “I’m not holding back.”
Why does she keep insisting he is? What did Father tell her?
“All right,” Mother says. “Let’s talk about something else.”
Anything else.
“What was going through your head when you left your chamber this morning?”
Anything but that.
She sends a root toward his leg this time, but he snaps it with a competing root of his own.
“That was well done,” Mother says. “Now answer my question.”
He presses his lips into a thin line as Mother walks toward him. Her gaze is intense, her chin lowered. What would it have been like to face her on the battlefield?
Terrifying.
A vine snaps at him, one at first and then another. He backs away, staying just out of reach. Roots nip at his toes along with the vines.
She’s not attacking him, though.
Whistling wind. She’s backing him into the corner so he can’t run.
Panic fills him as he glances to his right and his left, but there’s no escape. It’s either let her plants overtake him...or fight back.
“What were you thinking earlier?” she asks more softly as her vines and roots continue snapping at him. His back hits the wall of the arena, and his heart beats rapidly.
Can Arisanna feel it?
“Cerian?” Mother lifts her brows, and he huffs.
“She didn’t want me in there.”
“Did she say that?”
A vine rips at him through the air, and he can’t escape it. Reflexively, he snaps his eyes closed and crosses his arms in front of his body, and nearby trees answer the call of his magic, forming a barricade of leaves and branches between them.
When he opens his eyes, Mother is gazing at him over his wall. “If you are capable of this, why do you run?” She doesn’t give him a chance to respond before continuing. “And why did you really run this morning? Because she didn’t want you there? Or because you were afraid she didn’t?”
His heart is pounding now.
“Or perhaps the most terrifying thing of all,” she says. “You wanted to stay, and that frightened you.”
His jaw twitches. “I’m not scared.”
“Of so many things, no. Your woods. The trees. The forest. The night sky you love so much. But of being rejected? Of being judged unworthy?”
His heavy breathing flares his nostrils, and he growls under his breath.
“I’m not scared.” And as if to prove it, he slashes at his tree-grown barricade, and it crumbles before him.
Mother doesn’t even flinch as he calls the plants to answer to his magic this time.
One after another, he shoots vines and roots at her, and she answers in kind, their magical plants meeting between them like clashing swords.
She wraps a vine around him, spinning him onto his back, and as he scrambles to his feet, he sends roots to grow up her legs.
Her magic fights against his for control, but he holds nothing back, letting it flow from him like a gushing river.
To his shock, it edges her magic out, the roots growing higher along her body, binding her in place.
“Impressive,” she says darkly as branches appear in his peripheral, lashing around his arms.
Cerian lets out a guttural cry and pulls at the branches with his magic, bending the trees to his will, when a blast of air rips at him, sending him spinning backward. The wind rushes from his lungs as he lands hard on his back.
“Lorial! I did not ask you to interfere,” Mother cries, and Cerian coughs as he tries to catch his breath.
Father stands in the doorway, and he looks less than pleased. “You are not strong enough to spar yet, Nestraya!” Then he turns burning eyes toward Cerian. “And you—”
“Me? She started it!”
“He needed to work through—”
“I’m not scared! And I’m not holding back!”
Mother crosses her arms triumphantly as the roots holding her in place crumble. “Not anymore. That was impressive. I wanted to see what you were going to do until your father interfered.” She glares at Father again.
Cerian groans and drops his head back to the ground. What was he going to do? Tear Windhaven apart? This is why he holds back. His power is terrifying.
Laughter drifts his way, and he looks up again to see Father’s shoulders shaking. “We need to feed you both before you murder each other.”
Then Cerian does a double-take. Standing behind Father...is Arisanna. Whistling wind. How long has she been watching?
He didn’t invite her here.
And where did she get that dress? She stands there staring at him like some sort of otherworldly vision of beauty and perfection with her hair streaming down her back, gleaming red in the sunlight shining through the skylights overhead.
She can’t send him away and then show up looking like that.
It’s cruel.
As she looks at him, her expression changes, the shock transforming into some sort of grim determination. What in the Wildthorne Woods is she thinking now?
And there’s Tharios, grinning from the doorway. He was watching, too?
Closing his eyes, Cerian groans again. This day has been a disaster.
When the light behind his eyelids darkens, he looks up in surprise at Arisanna’s face as she hovers over him.
Clutching a wooden bowl to her chest, she drops to the ground at his side. Isn’t she terrified of him now?
“Shall I feed you, or would you prefer to feed yourself?” she asks softly but firmly.
He glances around, but Tharios is gone, and Father’s attention is absorbed by Mother.
“Open,” Arisanna says when he doesn’t respond.
“I can feed myself here,” he hisses.
“Just open your mouth. You’re being a bear. Isn’t that what Elowyn says?”
His lips part in surprise, and she takes advantage of the moment, dropping a whole handful of berries and nuts into his mouth, and he almost chokes.
“Sorry. Maybe that was too much.”
He manages to swallow, and then she’s there with another handful to force down his throat. Over and over, she shovels food into his mouth until his stomach no longer aches and he can think straight again.
Father and Mother have disappeared, though when they left, Cerian couldn’t say. He’s been too absorbed with Arisanna to notice.
She’s...stunning.
“Are you feeling better?” She tucks that burnished hair behind her ear, and the sudden desire to run his fingers through it overwhelms him. He had no idea it was so long.
He blinks a few times to clear his head before nodding.
“Good, because I have something to say to you.”
That’s ominous. He eyes her, waiting for her to continue.
“I didn’t want you to leave this morning.
I was trying to thank you for watching over me when I was weak and exhausted and.
..and vulnerable. I feel mortified thinking about it, but you were there to care for me when I needed you.
No judgment. Just...kindness. It...means something to me to know that you.
..that that’s the sort of...the sort of person my heart is bound to. ”
That’s what she was trying to say earlier? She didn’t want him to leave? How much of his conversation with his mother did she hear?
“How long were you watching?” he asks, dreading her answer.
“I saw you plummet from the ceiling. It was terrifying. Your mother is relentless, isn’t she?”
Whistling wind. She was here the whole time.
“And did you hear—”
“Everything.” She looks down at him, her gaze full of nothing but fierce compassion.
Once again, he slides his eyelids shut and groans. The urge to run fills him, but a soft hand on his chest makes him snap his eyes open instead.
“No more running, Cerian. Not from me. Next time, we talk. And if you need space, tell me, and I’ll give you room to breathe. But don’t run. Please.”
He gawks at her. Did they really meet only a few days ago?
“Agreed?” she says when he doesn’t respond.
And he nods because his words seem to have abandoned him.
“Good.” She sets aside the empty bowl. “Your mother is terrifying. I would have caved far sooner than you did.” Arisanna’s lips hint at a smile, and before Cerian can help himself, he smiles in return.
“I’m as shocked as you are.”
“Really?”
“Really. I’ve never sparred with her in my life. Not until today.”
Arisanna smiles down at him, and his breath catches at the sight.
“No wonder Tharios was so intrigued when he sensed your magic together here,” she says. “He helped me find you after he discovered me roaming the corridor looking for you.”
“You were looking for me?”
She nods. “Though I didn’t get far before he found me.”
“And where did you find this dress? It’s beautiful on you.” The words fly from his lips before he realizes his mouth has taken on a mind of its own. Heat creeps up his neck, and her eyes grow round alongside his as her own face flushes.
“I...you...thank you.”
He clears his throat as he looks away.
Then she leans close, and his pulse quickens. He’s still lying on the ground. Why is he still lying on the ground? And what is she doing? Her warm breath caresses his ear, and he bites back a moan at the sensation.
“I think…” she whispers, “I think it’s magic.”