Episode 40
Cozy Heat
Cerian holds Arisanna tight to his chest in the snowy tundra of their heartlanding. He’s so warm. She just wants to exist in the cozy heat of his fire magic forever.
What possessed her to repeat the words of the heartbinding, anyway? Words that apparently are etched onto her heart now. They were just there when she needed them.
When he needed to hear them.
He doesn’t reciprocate, but that’s all right. Her elven prince speaks most clearly without words, and with the way he keeps clinging to her, she can easily discern his feelings.
He’s choosing this. Choosing her in a way he didn’t before, when she was just the unfamiliar human princess he was barely willing to bind with to save his mother.
Now...he’s choosing her for her.
At least, he seems to be.
A tiny prickle of ice hits her cheek, and she opens her eyes to a stunning winter scene. Bright, fluffy flakes of powdery snow fill the air, and she gasps. “It’s snowing.”
“It’s been coming down for a few minutes,” Cerian says quietly. His warm arms still hold her close, and she doesn’t pull away.
“Oh. My eyes were closed. I was just...basking in you.” She tilts her head to look up at him. He feels it, too...doesn’t he?
His expression is unreadable, though.
“What are you thinking?” she asks again. “I’m not scaring you off, am I?”
His mouth quirks, and he shakes his head.
“What, then?” she asks.
“I’m trying to decide if you like me or my fire magic better.” The faintest hint of that brilliant full smile of his ghosts across his face. Are they flirting again? Her belly warms at the thought.
“I’m not sure your fire magic would be as appealing without you to wield it.”
His brow furrows. “That doesn’t even make sense.”
Laughter fills her at the confusion on his face, and he shakes his head, a smile tugging at his lips.
“Maybe I like the whole package,” she teases. “You and your magic and those pointed ears of yours.”
He glances away, but not before an adorable flush races up his cheeks, all the way to the tips of his ears.
Is he growing warmer? Perhaps she shouldn’t tease him like that. His hands are hot against her lower back, even through the thick cloak he asked the heartlanding for.
When did he slide his hands to her lower back? Probably around the time she rested her palms against his chest. She could slip them around his neck. Gaze up into his eyes. Would he kiss her again? A real kiss this time?
Could his fire magic handle a kiss?
Stars above. Just because they’re having a moment doesn’t mean he wants to kiss her.
Will he ever be able to kiss her? And what about...the rest? Not that one moment in their heartlanding means she’s ready to crawl into his bed with that in mind—or that he wants her to.
But someday? Maybe? He’s obviously attracted to her. He practically confessed as much on the train.
“It’s my turn to ask what you’re thinking,” Cerian says softly, almost hesitantly, as if the question itself is a struggle for him to voice. The fact that he’s trying—that he cares enough to force the words out—warms her from the inside all over again.
She can’t really tell him what she was thinking, though. Can she?
When she doesn’t respond, his eyes shutter. “Never mind. I shouldn’t have—”
“Your fire magic,” she blurts out.
For goodness’ sake. He’ll think she’s addled for sure if she keeps doing that.
“What about it?” His brows wrinkle, but his eyes are more open again.
“Well...we’re married, and...”
Stars above. She should have talked about the snow.
He says nothing. He just stands there with his hands on her back, looking down into her eyes.
Oh, blast it all. There’s no taking it back now.
“How are we supposed to...bond...someday when you catch fire every time you look at me?”
He stiffens.
“Not right now,” she hurries to add. “Just...someday. In the distant future. Far from now.” A nervous laugh escapes her lips. “You know, we probably don’t need to talk about this right now. Or ever. Look, it’s still snowing. We should build that snowman.”
She hazards a glance up, and he stares down at her.
“Well. I’m mortified now,” she mutters, looking away again. “Though we agreed we could talk to each other, and this seems like a reasonable thing for married people to discuss. And you said wait. Not never. So I assumed—”
“I...don’t know.”
She snaps her eyes to him again. “What?”
He pulls away, but she reaches for his hands.
“Arisanna, no! Don’t touch—”
She gasps at the searing heat he’s exuding, and he curses in Elvish before stepping back and launching more fireballs into the sky. He shoves his hands into a snowdrift for a few seconds before hurrying back to her. Gently, he tugs off one of her mittens.
“I’m all right. You didn’t—” She hisses at the pain when he grazes her palm.
Maybe he did burn her. Just a little, though. It’s barely pink.
He removes the other mitten, too. It hurts less than the first one. You can’t even tell anything is wrong.
Cerian still hasn’t spoken. His glare has returned, though.
So much for their moment.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I shouldn’t have—”
But before she can finish, he drops to the ground, pulling her with him. She lands in a heap on his crisscrossed legs, but she barely has time to process the fact that she’s sitting in his lap when he buries her hands in the snow.
Still, he says nothing.
“Cerian?”
His lips press into a thin line. Clearly, he’s not ready to talk about what just happened.
It wasn’t his fault, though. Surely he knows that. She grabbed him. She should have known better.
Unsure what to say or do, Arisanna just sits on his lap with her hands in the snow while he lobs occasional fireballs into the sky.
“Cerian,” she eventually tries again. “It was an accident. Please don’t blame yourself.”
“I should have been more careful.” His voice is barely audible, but at least he’s talking. “I can’t...I can’t touch you, Arisanna. Not...not like that.”
Her stomach tightens at his words. “Ever?”
“I don’t know.”
“How are you doing now? Should I move?”
He launches another fireball into the air. “I’m managing. How are your hands?”
“They’ll be fine. They barely hurt.”
His nostrils flare as he stares off into the snowy landscape.
So much for building a snowman together. The broody elf is back. At least he’s not shutting her out.
Well, not completely, anyway. With a sigh, she lays her head on his shoulder. “Is this all right?”
“Yes.”
“You held my hand for hours in the heartlanding last night. Why is it suddenly different now?”
He doesn’t answer at first, and she doesn’t prod him. She just leans against him while the icy cold of the snow freezes her hands. But she leaves them where they are. He’d probably clench his jaw if she tried to move them.
“Every day I spend with you,” he begins slowly, pausing before continuing, “feels like much longer than a day.”
“As if we’ve known each other forever,” she whispers, and he nods.
“I think it’s the heartbinding.”
She lifts her head to look into his eyes. “Do you think it’s real? Or would we hate each other without the heartbinding?”
He gazes into her eyes with an intensity that makes her stomach flip. “If I ever hated you, it’s because I didn’t know you,” he says. “Now that I know you...I...”
She doesn’t hurry him. If she pushed him, would he clam up again? She has the rest of her life to hear what he has to say. However long it takes.
“Now that I know you,” he starts again, “I can’t imagine hating you.”
It takes all her effort not to smile. From anyone but Cerian, that would merit a half-hearted thanks punctuated with a question mark.
But from this elven prince of hers, he may as well have confessed his undying love.
Sort of.
In any case, he’s trying. Though, clearly, romance isn’t his forte.
“The more I get to know you,” she whispers, “the more I can’t imagine binding my heart to anyone else.”
He stares at her for a moment. “That is what I should have said.”
This time, she can’t help the smile that trips across her face. “I’m glad to hear you don’t hate me, though.”
The corner of his mouth twitches, and laughter rises unbidden from her throat.
“I’m not good with words,” he says.
A smile takes over his face as she bites her lower lip, trying to contain her laughter. Then she buries her face in his neck as her shoulders shake.
Eventually, her laughter fades, and she sighs contentedly against him. If only her hands weren’t numb.
A faint smokiness emanates from his skin, but it’s not overpowering. It’s reminiscent of bonfires on the beach and cozy nights around the hearth. Warmth and family and home.
“How are your hands?” he asks.
“Frozen. Can I move them yet?”
“Why didn’t you say something? I wasn’t trying to give you frostbite.”
She pulls her stiff fingers from the icy white powder. They’re redder now than they were before. At least she can’t feel the pain anymore.
She can’t feel much of anything.
Tucking her hands under her cloak to warm them, she leans back against Cerian and gazes out over the snowy world surrounding them. Other than an occasional glistening snowflake, the falling snow has slowed.
She should probably climb off his lap, but she doesn’t offer to move, and he doesn’t ask her to. Occasionally, he hurls a flaming fireball into the sky. What’s going through his head now?
“Tell me more about this...man of snow,” he says, to her surprise.
“Well, first, it’s called a snowman. And second, it would be easier to show you.” When she glances at his face, his eyes are wary, and she holds back yet another smile. “We have to roll three large snowballs and stack them up. The smallest one will be his head.”
“This doesn’t sound like a man. It sounds like a lumpy blob.”
Laughter fills her once more. “It will probably look like a lumpy blob. But it’s fun. Come on.”
She climbs off him, feeling the loss of his heat as her stiff fingers fumble with her mittens.
Then he’s there, carefully tugging them in place without touching her.
Her heart speeds up at the tender gesture, and on a whim, she presses her lips to his cheek. He stiffens under her touch.
Stars above. She shouldn’t have done that.