Episode 46
He’s a Madman
“Sew my flesh? With a needle and thread?” The Elvish words fly from Elowyn’s mouth. “What sort of healer resorts to such barbaric methods? Tharios would be appalled. He actually heals people. With his life magic. He doesn’t mutilate them.”
“Elowyn! Elowyn, just...take a breath or...or something.” Rominy inches toward her, and she looks from him to the doctor before flying off the bed and huddling behind Rominy. She has no intention of letting that doctor near her again.
Rominy turns to look over his shoulder, where she’s latched on to his coat. “Oh...you’re just...you’re hiding behind me now.”
“Send him away,” she says in Elvish.
“Do what to him?” Rominy tries to turn and face her, but she stays behind him. “Elowyn. Will you come here so I can see you?”
“Send him away,” she repeats in Nunian.
“Oh. Send. That makes sense.”
“I’ll tell you what.” The madman human doctor snaps his ominous black bag closed. It’s probably full of all sorts of primitive torture devices. “I’m going to check on that boiling water while you two chat. I’ll be back in a few minutes. Let me know when you’re ready.”
The man lets himself out of the room as Elowyn peers around Rominy.
He’s gone. Thank the fates.
“So...that was...unexpected,” Rominy says.
“I agree. He’s a madman.”
“He what? No, not him. You. Come here.” Rominy manages to grasp her good arm and pulls her around to face him. “He’s not a madman. He’s a doctor. A healer, I think you call them.”
“That man was no healer. Have you visited one of these...doctors before?” Elowyn looks up at Rominy’s caramel eyes. Is he laughing? What in the Wildthorne Woods is funny about this?
“I have, Elowyn. Many times.”
“It’s a wonder you’re still alive.”
Rominy’s mouth twitches.
“Don’t laugh!” she says. “I’m in earnest!”
Clearing his throat, Rominy nods. “Of course.”
“Surely you’ve never let one of these doctors approach you with a needle and thread?”
The very idea is appalling. If Tharios were here, she’d be healed by now. With magic. Not by turning her into a pincushion.
“Actually...” Rominy’s voice trails off, and Elowyn’s gaze snaps toward him.
“Actually what?”
“I got stitches once. A fencing lesson went very wrong.”
“Fencing?”
“Like sword fighting. Sort of. Took a cut right across my side, here.”
As Elowyn watches, he gestures to his ribs.
“You mean this is normal?” she asks. “Sewing people together?”
How disturbing.
“We don’t have life magic, I’m afraid. We have to resort to other...more barbaric methods.” He says barbaric in its Elvish form, and Elowyn looks sheepishly up at him as a trickle of blood seeps from her wound.
Whistling wind. It’s still bleeding.
“I’m sorry Tharios isn’t here to heal you,” Rominy says softly as he runs a knuckle along her jaw. “Our methods probably do seem primitive compared to what you’re used to. But it’s going to be all right. I promise.”
Thoughts of Tharios twist something in her heart, and she leans into Rominy as he pulls her close. The press of his solid chest and muscled arms floods her with memories of their shared kisses, and heat fills her.
She barely harnessed her fire magic when he pulled her into that second kiss. Could he taste the fire and water warring within her? Viala says she can taste Tharios’s magic.
Viala is Lothlesi, though. Not human. Can humans taste elven magic?
“You still smell like smoke and waterfalls,” Rominy murmurs against her hair.
“You can smell my magic?”
When he nuzzles the tip of her ear, her knees almost betray her, but he holds her steady so she doesn’t fall.
“I can definitely smell it.”
“And...can you taste it?” She hazards a glance at his face and almost catches fire at the intensity of his gaze.
“You taste like sparks and waterfalls. I can’t even begin to understand it. But I love it.”
Unbidden, her eyes dart to his lips, and his heart speeds up. Dried blood mars the hint of facial hair on his jaw, and she lifts a finger to trace the crimson path from his lip to his chin.
He threw himself in front of that bigoted man the way he did with the dragon.
Just as he did with that madman of a doctor.
No thinking. Just...reacting. To protect her. With no care for himself.
Her finger finds its way to his lips, tracing the fullness of his lower lip. The dip of his upper one. He doesn’t move. He’s barely breathing. What little air he exhales is cool against her tingling hand.
“You’re so warm,” he whispers.
Whistling wind. She floods the heat filling her with traces of her water magic, and liquid beads on her palm.
“What did you just do?” he asks. “I felt it. You’re cooler now.”
Gazing into his eyes, she traces the line between his brows, followed by his left brow and his right one. “You ignite my fire magic, Rominy. I have to keep dousing the flame so I don’t catch us both on fire.”
His throat bobs at her words, and she twirls a tendril of his golden-brown hair around her finger.
“You burn hot...because of me?” he breathes.
“Does that surprise you?”
It shouldn’t. He’d be a catch for any woman. The way he set aside every thought for himself to bind with her and protect their kingdoms and her mother just adds to the wonder of who he is.
“I’ve never thought of myself as heat-inducing,” he murmurs as he leans into her touch.
Her fingers slide through the hair at his temple, and she trails her thumb along the curve of his ear. So round. And clearly far less sensitive than an elf ear.
“Then you’ve never truly seen yourself,” she says.
His eyes are so beautiful. Such a light brown—almost golden.
“If you keep doing that, I might be the one to catch fire.” His voice is soft. Low. It thrills something deep inside her.
“K-keep doing what?”
“Running your hands over me while you look at me like that.”
Both their hearts are pounding now. Rominy’s eyes slip to her mouth before he exhales slowly through pursed lips and glances away. “The doctor will be back soon.”
His words bring reality crashing in, and heat crawls up her neck and face as she reclaims her hand. Not that she needs to be embarrassed, does she? He seemed to welcome her touch.
Calling on her water magic, she quiets the warmth building within her at the thought. “Rominy?”
He looks at her again, his hands splayed on her lower back. He seems in no hurry to move them.
She can trust him, can’t she? He stepped in front of a dragon for her. Tackled a man in the street for her. If he says it’s all right to let the madman sew her back together, she can trust that, too, right?
“What is it?” he asks softly.
“Do you have a scar from this...fencing accident?”
His brows knit as he nods. “A small one. It’s faded. You’re not scared of having a scar, are you? Because you don’t need to be. Scars are evidence of your strength. That you survived. At least, that’s what my father has always told me.”
A smile slips across Elowyn’s face. “My parents say much the same thing. They both have scars from their battle with Nunia. Their scars remind them they’re stronger together.”
Rominy’s own smile grows. “Stronger together. I like that. What about us? Are we stronger together?”
Elowyn looks thoughtfully up at him before nodding. “I believe we are.”
“So do I. And you don’t need to worry about a scar.”
She gently shakes her head. “I wasn’t worried.”
“Then why did you ask?”
Heat floods her again.
“You’re blushing,” he whispers, looking bemused.
“Am I?”
“All the way to those perfectly pointed ears of yours.” His smile returns as even more heat sweeps across her cheeks and ears, and she grasps at her water magic.
Can she really ask him what she was planning to ask him? She’s blushing already just thinking about it.
But she needs to know. She needs to see for herself.
Clearing her throat, she meets his eyes again. “I...I was hoping...”
When she doesn’t finish, he lifts a hand to her blazing cheek. “Whatever it is, you can tell me. Stronger together, right? The other half of your heart and all that?”
“Right. Yes, of course.” She breathes out slowly. He’s right. She doesn’t need to be embarrassed. She’s his binding partner. His wife. The other half of his heart.
“You can tell me,” he says again. “I promise not to react.”
She frowns at that. “What if I was planning to tell you I desire a pet dragon or I long to dive off a cliff into the sea?”
He opens his mouth before closing it again.
“Or I want a dozen younglings?” she continues.
His brows rise at that, and he swallows before shaking his head. “No reaction. See? This is me not reacting.”
She struggles not to laugh at his attempt to hide his obvious feelings about the thought of a dozen younglings.
“For the record,” he says, “is that what you were blushing about? A dozen—” His voice cracks, and laughter gets the best of her.
“No! That wasn’t what I was planning to say.”
Immediate and obvious relief fills him. “Good. Good. I mean, if it were, that would be fine, too. The telling-me part, I mean. The doing-it part, though. That might be terrifying. Well, not the doing-it part—I imagine that part would be enjoyable.” His eyes grow wide.
“Stars above. I’m going to stop talking now. ”
Elowyn’s laughter grows, and she leans her forehead against his solid chest as her shoulders shake.
“Now I’m blushing,” he mutters, and his words only add to her mirth. As her laughter fades, he chuckles a little himself before turning serious. “What were you going to say?”
She looks up at him, and his caramel eyes gaze down at her with a warmth that envelops her and makes her feel somehow safe and secure. Cared for and...and loved.
It’s enough to steal her breath away. And suddenly, it doesn’t seem like a silly or embarrassing request. He is the other half of her heart. She doesn’t need to be afraid or hide anything from him.
“Tell me?” he says softly.
Breathing out slowly, she pushes forward. “Could you...would you mind...showing me your scar?”