Episode 32
Carry On
Cerian groans as he paces his chamber. He said he wouldn’t run from her.
Then he ran.
He should go back. Apologize.
He cringes at the thought.
He’s never been good at apologizing, though he’s already had practice with Arisanna from when he ran at their binding feast.
She’s probably hungry. She plied him with nuts and berries until he was ready to burst, but she ate nothing herself.
Some binding partner he is. Her first morning in his home, and he doesn’t even feed her.
He just abandons her. Not once but twice, and it’s barely mid-morning.
Groaning again, he lobs a set of fireballs at the stone-lined fireplace across the room.
She deserves better than this. Better than him.
With a frustrated huff, he strides toward the door and wrenches it open.
And there she is, standing outside his chamber, looking slightly terrified.
“Do you need more food?” she whispers. “I think the bear is back. You look ready to devour me whole.”
He stares at her. She definitely deserves better.
“Or maybe a hug?” she says softly.
Then she wraps her arms around him, and he stiffens.
Whistling wind. She’s hugging him.
“You’re not very good at this,” she says against his shoulder.
Is he supposed to hug her in return? He mentally kicks himself. Of course he’s supposed to hug her.
Awkwardly, he wraps his arms around her.
“You ran,” she whispers.
“You came after me. Again. Why?”
She looks up at him, and his hands slide to her back, but he can’t bring himself to move as their eyes connect.
Then the door across the corridor opens, and before Cerian can put any space between himself and Arisanna, Tharios emerges with Viala.
“Well, that was fast.” Tharios grins, but Viala smacks his arm.
“Leave them be,” she whispers in Lothlesian.
Arisanna’s face flames as she pulls away, smoothing her iridescent gown. “Thank you for the gift,” she says in smooth Elvish. “It fits perfectly.”
Viala smiles. “Shimmeron always fits. My mother sent it when I asked her for a special gift for Cerian’s human princess. It’s beautiful on you.”
Arisanna murmurs her thanks again, and Cerian’s stomach does odd things.
His human princess.
He may not be what she deserves, but he’s all she has here in Lostariel.
Viala shoves Tharios along, and he smirks over his shoulder. “Carry on, little brother!”
Whistling wind. Tharios is the most annoying elf in the entire kingdom.
Once his brother and Viala are gone, Cerian looks down at Arisanna. She doesn’t try to wrap her arms around him again.
“I’m...sorry,” he whispers. “I shouldn’t have run. I will...I will try to do—”
To his shock, she reaches for his hand, and his words falter.
“When you feel like running, find my hand instead. And if you still need to escape, take me with you.” She gazes up at him with those warm brown eyes of hers, and his heart thuds.
That urge to flee slithers over him, warring with the startling desire to pull her against his chest and never let go. But he tightens his fingers around her hand instead and clings to her like a tether.
Her hair hangs over her shoulder in a cascading waterfall of burnished silken thread. Is it as soft as it looks?
“Cerian, your hand is so warm. Even hotter than usual. Is it because you’re a fire wielder?”
Whistling wind. He tamps down the fire magic that’s taken on a mind of its own and tries to pull away, but Arisanna holds tight to him.
“Don’t run,” she whispers, reaching for his other hand, too, and as she gazes into his eyes with their hands clasped between them, his panic lessens and his magic cools.
But horror fills him. What in the Wildthorne Woods just happened?
“Are you all right?” she asks, and he swallows as he stares down at her.
“You must be hungry.” He evades her question. “You missed breakfast.”
She studies him, still holding both his hands. Then she nods, apparently deciding to let it go. Thank the fates for that.
“You still smell like berries,” she whispers.
“It will wear off soon.” He’ll probably smell like a horse when it does. He’s still wearing the clothes he wore during their travels yesterday. “Give me a moment to change my clothing, and then we’ll visit the kitchens and find you something to eat.”
She nods, letting go of him, and as he hurries into his chamber, he flexes his hands to cool them. It’s been years since he lost control of his fire magic. Why is he suddenly struggling now?
Arisanna waits patiently in the corridor, taking in the tree-like walls and the rounded doors. Tharios and Viala sleep across the hall. That’s clear. One of these doors must belong to Elowyn. Will she and Rominy visit someday?
Thoughts of Rominy leave her homesick as she wanders toward the window overlooking the river beyond. The Waters of Pendarra. That’s what it’s called.
“Why, good morning, my youngling,” a woman says from down the corridor, and Arisanna turns to find Cerian’s grandmother gliding toward her.
“You weren’t at breakfast, but I checked with our cook, and she said she didn’t send food to Cerian’s chamber.
And now I find you wandering the corridors alone.
Shall I have a word with my grandson about abandoning you on your first morning here? ”
Judging by the expression on Queen Miravel’s face, a word with her could be terrifying.
“Cerian will be out soon. He promised to feed me.”
The queen mother’s face softens, and she nods. “Good. And you slept all right? Tharios tells me the beds in Nunia are quite different from what we have here.”
Heat creeps up Arisanna’s neck at the thought of whose bed she slept in last night.
“I slept well. Thank you,” she manages. “I’m sorry I wasn’t very good company last night.”
“Nonsense, my youngling. I don’t know what my son was thinking, putting you through such a long day of travel. We’ll get you rested up and fed and taken care of, all right?”
A smile slips over Arisanna’s face at the woman’s words. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”
“None of that, now.” Queen Miravel flicks Arisanna’s chin and offers a kind smile of her own. “You must call me Grandmera, as Cerian does. We are family now, Arisanna.”
“Grandmera.” Arisanna nods before tilting her head thoughtfully. “Was anyone at breakfast?”
Grandmera laughs. “Lorial joined me. It was a quiet meal.”
The door to Cerian’s chamber opens, and Arisanna barely hides a gasp at the sight of him.
He’s dressed like in the heartlanding, though he wears sleeves here.
But the perfectly tailored leather shirt stretches across his chest and moves with him like a second skin.
What kind of leather fits like that? Her stomach tightens just looking at him.
Her elven prince.
He definitely looks the part now.
“Grandmera,” he says.
“You feed your princess now. Do you hear me, Cerian?”
He nods as he glances at Arisanna.
“Good.”
“Grandmera, the room you prepared for Arisanna—”
“What of it?” the older woman’s brows lower, and Arisanna gulps.
Are they really talking about this here? Now?
“Is it ready for her?”
Grandmera turns to Arisanna, and Arisanna suddenly understands Cerian’s frequent urges to run.
“Of course it’s ready if you prefer it, my youngling. Though you were adamant about your preferences last night.”
Arisanna glances at Cerian, but he seems more eager to hear her response than to come to her aid.
Memories of Cerian’s conversation with his mother flood her.
She didn’t want me there.
Does he want her in his chamber?
“Which room would be mine?” she asks.
“The one beside Cerian’s, of course.” Grandmera gestures to one of the doors. “It belonged to Nestraya when she was an elfling.”
Cerian’s mother grew up here? That wasn’t part of Arisanna’s tutoring.
She gazes into Cerian’s eyes, but they’re closed off as if...as if he’s scared. Of being rejected?
“Can you add a door between them? With your plant magic?” she asks softly. “In case I need you?”
At her words, something in his eyes softens—melts, almost. “I can do that.”
“I’ll let you two sort everything out. But before you start tearing down walls, feed your human princess.” Grandmera eyes Cerian with a look that would melt glass, and he nods.
With a squeeze of Arisanna’s shoulder, Grandmera disappears into what must be her own chamber, and for a moment, Cerian studies Arisanna as she tries not to fidget under his gaze. He looks like he wants to say something, but in the end, he just holds out his hand.
Well. That was unexpected. Without hesitating, she hurries toward him and slips her fingers between his, and he leads her down the corridor to find food.