Episode 53
What Is This Place?
The blaring of a train whistle startles Cerian awake, and he flails at the velvet bench.
Whistling wind.
His heart pounds as he tries to get his bearings. It’s the heartlanding. But...the train isn’t moving, and Arisanna is nowhere to be seen.
The curtains are drawn over the windows, but faint daylight seeps through them, illuminating the car well enough.
“Arisanna?”
There’s no response, and panic takes root in his gut. Where is she? Where is he, for that matter? He yanks the nearest curtain open, and his dread only grows.
The streets of Levina? Or some other Nunian city?
So much for their moonlit lake. There won’t be any swimming tonight.
More concerning, though...where is Arisanna? He can’t be here alone, can he? The heartlanding doesn’t work that way.
As he searches the cityscape for some sign of her, movement catches his eye. The streets are empty of people, except for...is that Rominy? He can’t be real, can he?
What in the Wildthorne Woods is going on?
As Cerian watches, Rominy turns toward the train with a wild look in his eyes. It’s as if he’s looking straight at Cerian.
Then Rominy says something, but another train whistle drowns out his words. Not that Cerian could have heard him through the closed window.
Something about Rominy’s troubled gaze plucks at Cerian’s panic, and he’s ready to hurry toward the door when Elowyn’s disembodied voice echoes in his ear.
“Cerian. Tell Tharios.”
Her voice is breathy and pained, and he freezes. “Elowyn?”
He gazes at Rominy standing on the platform again, and his stomach knots. Before Cerian can move, though, the train rolls forward, leaving Rominy behind.
Cerian squeezes his eyes shut, trying to make sense of what’s happening as the train picks up speed.
“Cerian?” Arisanna’s voice almost launches him from the bench, and he snaps his gaze toward her where she sits beside him, her eyes etched in worry.
It’s night again, and the windows are dark beyond the open curtains of their train as it rolls along the tracks. His breath flows heavily as his heart pounds.
What just happened?
“What’s wrong?” Arisanna asks softly as she looks up at him.
“I...I don’t know.”
“You’re not...having regrets, are you? About last night?”
“What?” His voice comes out hoarse as he tries to comprehend her words.
“Our kiss. And...everything else.” Her cheeks have turned rosy, and it all comes rushing back. Her declaration of love. The kiss they shared. Her hands on his chest. On his ears.
Whistling wind. His palms are already tingling.
“Cerian?” Her delicate brows wrinkle, and he shakes his head.
“No, I don’t regret it,” he hurries to say before she gets the wrong impression, and relief sweeps across her features.
“Then what’s causing this wrinkle between your brows?” She slides a finger along his face, and he swallows.
“Did you...see Rominy?”
Her eyes widen. “Rominy? Here?”
Cerian nods.
“No. You saw him here? In our heartlanding? Is that possible?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why would seeing Rominy make you panic like this? He’s the least frightening person I know.” Her voice holds no judgment, only confusion.
“It wasn’t his presence. It was the expression on his face.”
Arisanna’s own brows knit. “I don’t understand. What exactly did you see?”
Cerian breathes out slowly as his panic ebbs. He might as well tell her. “The train was stopped in Levina. At least...I believe it was Levina. And Rominy was on the platform.”
Cerian takes a moment to gather his thoughts before continuing, and she doesn’t rush him.
“He looked almost frantic. Like...like something was wrong. And he called out to me, but I couldn’t hear him, and—”
“Cerian. Cerian, it’s all right.” She trails the back of her hand down his cheek.
“I heard Elowyn’s voice. She was in pain. She called my name. Said to tell Tharios.”
“Take a deep breath,” Arisanna says softly.
He inhales slowly, trying to find that calm she exudes so well.
“Do you think perhaps it was a dream?” she asks as she brushes his hair away from his face. Her touch is soothing, and he rests his forehead against hers.
“It didn’t feel like a dream. It felt as real as this does.”
She’ll probably argue. Tell him all the reasons it couldn’t have been more than a dream. Or a nightmare. A figment of his imagination.
He waits for it, but she doesn’t say any of those things.
“You should speak to Tharios tomorrow,” she says instead, and her calm acceptance makes him want to crush her to his chest.
But he doesn’t. Not with his magic simmering so near the surface.
And she’s probably right, though talking to Tharios isn’t high on his list of things he wants to do. But if there’s a chance Elowyn is in trouble...
Can he even communicate what he saw to anyone else? If it was the heartlanding, he won’t be able to talk about it with anyone but Arisanna.
“For now, though,” Arisanna continues, interrupting his thoughts, “how is your fire magic?”
“A little hot,” he admits as memories of last night flood him again. Her lips on his. Their bodies pressed together.
“So I shouldn’t touch your ears? It seemed to soothe you last night.”
His palms warm at the thought of her hands on him again. Her gentle caresses either fanned his fire or made him forget every care he had in the world, sending him to the most blissful sleep imaginable, depending on how she touched him.
He’s so tightly wound right now, though. His thoughts of Arisanna war with his worry about his sister and the lingering panic over what just happened.
Perhaps it was a dream, but it felt real. He can still hear Elowyn’s voice echoing in his head.
“Cerian?” Arisanna draws him back to the present. Her breath is warm against his face, and he buries his fingers in her hair.
“I’m sorry. What was the question?”
Before she can answer, the train whistles again, and he tenses at the sound.
“Cerian, you’re pulling my—”
“Forgive me.” Horror fills him as he relaxes his fist in Arisanna’s hair. He should leave the silky strands alone.
“It’s all right.” She presses her lips to his in a feathery kiss before pulling away. It’s enough to calm his dismay without setting him on fire, though it leaves him longing for more. She glances at the dark windows and looks back at him. “I think the train is stopping.”
Perhaps fresh air will clear his head.
The train slows, and Arisanna rises, looking down at him as she offers him her hand. Before he can stop himself, his eyes sweep over her in her elven huntress dress.
“I saw that,” she whispers. “You’re nice to look at, too.”
Heat creeps up his neck to match the fire threatening his palms. “I probably shouldn’t hold your hand right now.”
She smiles but says nothing as he finds his feet, and together, they navigate the long aisle toward the door at the back of the train car.
Will there be snow this time? Their familiar forest?
That moonlit lake?
Arisanna lets him go first, and as he steps off the train, his heart speeds up.
What is this place?
Arisanna peers around Cerian and gasps. “It’s the mountain chalet outside Wolbourne.”
The cozy wooden house perches atop a snowy outcropping. Steam rises from the natural hot springs near the cabin, and feelings of nostalgia flood Arisanna.
“You know this place?” Cerian asks, and she nods.
“It’s nestled in the mountains in northeastern Nunia near Gaspar and Wolbourne. My family used to come here every autumn when I was a little girl. The mountain chalet, we called it.”
Cerian’s gaze lingers on the springs before he looks back at her. “You miss your family.”
Her eyes prickle, but she doesn’t cry. “I do. I have so many happy memories here. Sledding and climbing and searching for gold.”
“Gold?”
She laughs. “Fool’s gold, actually. Rominy thought it was a special kind of gold. For three days, we traipsed all over these hills looking for fool’s gold before Father caught wind of our escapades. I think he laughed for a week straight.”
“This fool’s gold...”
“It’s not gold at all. It’s basically worthless. It just has a golden sheen to it.”
Cerian’s eyes hold mirth as he gazes at her. It’s a beautiful sight.
“You were happy here,” he says.
“I was. It was the only time I felt free to be a little girl, running and playing. Father left his duties behind in trusted hands, and Mother smiled more here.”
Cerian doesn’t look away as he lights flames between his hands. “Keep talking. I’m listening.”
She smiles at him before looking back at the house and the hot springs.
“At night, we would lie back in the water and gaze at the stars. Father would point out all the constellations, and we’d giggle at being allowed to stay up until we turned into prunes.
Then we’d make a mad dash for the house, where mother waited with hot chocolate to warm us up again. ”
Cerian’s expression changes at the mention of the springs and stargazing. As if he’s unsure about something. Nervous even.
“What are you thinking?” she asks.
He glances at the springs again, and his heart accelerates.
Does he want to go in the water?
The thought tightens something in her belly as both their hearts race.
“We should get back on the train.” He extinguishes his flames and steps toward the open doorway behind her, keeping his gaze on the ground.
“Cerian,” she says softly. “Don’t run.”