Episode 56
Suit Up
As Rominy follows Elowyn into their cottage below, she creates a ball of golden light in her palm to illuminate their steps. Apparently, it’s night here, too.
“Maybe we should wait for daylight,” he suggests, and she glances back at him. Disappointment laces her eyes, and he sighs. “Let’s find our shoes.”
At his words, a stunning smile replaces her disappointment, and his breath catches. She looked at him with that same smile when they first glimpsed each other at the border between their kingdoms.
He never would have guessed they’d be married and chasing a dragon in this strange place less than a week later. What an unexpected turn his life has taken.
But other than his untimely death and that man in Wolbourne, Rominy regrets nothing. He may die again before the night is over, but if she keeps looking at him like that, it would be worth it.
On a whim, he catches her around the waist at the landing and steals a kiss.
Stars above. Are they to that point? Where he can kiss her for no reason whenever he feels like it?
But she doesn’t seem to mind. Her free hand slides along his chest toward his shoulder, and he almost forgets to breathe. The taste of sparks and waterfalls swirls between them. It’s tantalizing and perfect, and he wants more, but he gently pulls away, leaving his forehead pressed against hers.
“Your magic,” he murmurs. “How are you doing?”
“You seem to have ignited my inner flame.” Her voice is breathy, her flesh warm against his.
“I would apologize, but I’ve been forbidden from doing so.” His lips brush hers, and the sudden longing to forget about the garden and the labyrinth and the dragon and follow this wherever it leads courses through him.
“Are you trying to distract me from the dragon?” she teases, and he pushes his longing to the back of his mind.
“I’m blaming you. You smiled at me, and here we are.”
That elicits a laugh from her. “Shall I apologize?”
“Don’t you dare.” He steals another quick kiss before pulling away as he breathes out slowly.
Together, they make their way to the tiny bedroom while Rominy does his best to ignore the bed that takes up most of the room.
They’re sleeping in the same bed together in the real world right now. The thought is enough to send his heart racing again until the memory of Elowyn’s weakened state fills his head.
She’s so distracted she doesn’t seem to notice his heart doing strange things. As she pulls open the wardrobe doors, a gasp escapes her lips.
“What?” he asks.
“Elven leathers.” She fingers one of the two garments hanging inside.
“Leathers?”
“Ayervadi leathers. All the qualities of leather, but breathable with a bit of stretch.”
Stretchy leather? He barely has time to ponder the idea before she shoves the bigger set into his hands.
She wants him to wear leather?
He gulps as he eyes the form-fitting trousers and shirt. “I don’t know if I can pull this off.”
“What?”
“I’m not...exciting enough for leather,” he mumbles.
Her brows furrow as she stares at him. Then her expression softens. “You are so much more amazing than you realize.”
A nervous laugh escapes him. “I doubt that.”
“You’re the Crown Prince of Nunia. You have a fortune and a throne and the most amazing voice. You’re kind and compassionate and tender one moment and hurling yourself in front of dragons the next.”
“Getting myself killed, you mean.” He can’t bring himself to look at her.
“Without even hesitating. To protect the woman you love.” Her voice is soft, and his eyes finally snap toward her as his heart speeds up again.
“I do love you, Elowyn.”
“I know you do. I’ve known it since you tackled that man in the street.
And when you demonstrated that proposal for me, my heart tripped over itself.
And the way you brought me water whenever I ran out spoke louder to me than words ever could.
And then you helped me with my clothing when I was too weak to do it myself, even though it was awkward for both of us.
You made me feel safe and loved. How could I not know you love me?
Every hour with you, your actions shout it to anyone listening.
To anyone watching. And I’m watching, Rominy. I can’t look away.”
For a moment, he just stares into her beautiful gray eyes beneath those long silver lashes.
“I love you, Rominy,” she whispers as she steps closer.
“Wholly and completely, until my end of days.” She lays her hand on his chest as his own fire threatens to burst forth.
Then, to his shock, she takes a fistful of his linen shirt and pulls him toward her.
“And you, Rominy Montarac, are going to put on your warrior leathers and paint your eyes for battle because we are chasing dragons tonight.”
He can barely breathe. Forget dragons.
He drops the leathers and slides his hands along her jaw, pulling her into a kiss he can barely contain. She starts to say something, but he runs his thumbs over her ears, and the words morph into a whimper.
She’s all sparks and smokiness and waterfalls, and she clings to his shirt as she melts against him. His kiss is wild and unrestrained, and when he caresses her ears, her knees buckle, knocking him off balance as he backs into the bed, pulling her down with him.
They stare at each other as she lies on top of him the way she did on the train. Was that weeks ago? It must have been.
She breathes heavily through parted lips, and he reaches up to slide his finger over her parched flesh. She’s hot. Everywhere she touches him is blazing. Whatever this is they’re doing, her water magic is struggling to keep up.
“You burn hot tonight,” he says softly as his own fire tempers.
“I burn hot for you, Rominy.”
He finds her lips again in a kiss less fiery and more full of all the things he wants to tell her for which words just don’t exist. Exhaling slowly, he pulls away and tucks her silver hair behind her ear as her breath hitches.
“Will you paint my eyes?” he whispers. “I have no idea how to do that.”
A soft smile fills her face as she looks down at him. “I will.”
“First, though, let me get you some water while you change. I’ll be right back.” Reluctantly, he helps her climb off him before he heads to the door to give her privacy.
“Rominy?”
He glances over his shoulder at her.
“My fire magic. I’m sorry. I—”
“I love every part of you, Elowyn. Even your fire magic.”
Relief crosses her face as she nods, and he closes the door behind him before going to find her water while his own fire cools.
The leather tunic feels right as Elowyn slides it over her head. It’s a perfect re-creation of her ayervadi leathers back home in Lostariel. She left them behind, unsure she’d have much use for them as the binding partner of a human prince.
She loves all the dresses Arisanna gave her, but standing in front of the mirror with her own elven clothing feels familiar and comforting.
The fitted tunic with its split skirt over form-fitting leather trousers.
Her silver hair braided in a tail over her shoulder and tied with a leather strap.
Korathite lining her eyes and imparting a fierceness to her that will probably shock Rominy.
She’s Elowyn Westaria again. Princess of the Elven Kingdom of Lostariel. Only daughter of Lorial and Nestraya. Granddaughter of Restoval, descended from Zelovon. Taught to wield both magic and weapons by the best trainers in Lostariel from before she can remember.
It’s that Elowyn who gazes back at her now.
She can belong to Rominy and Nunia and to Lostariel. Bridge both worlds. Be both Elowyn Westaria and...Elowyn Montarac? Elowyn Westaria Montarac?
What is her name now? She’ll have to ask Rominy.
In any case, the daughter of Nestraya, First among warriors, faces her in the mirror now.
She is who she is. And she is not ashamed.
Even when men spit at her and throw rocks.
If only she had her bow.
As she watches, a quiver materializes on her back, and she stares at it.
How intriguing.
She lifts her hand to feel the fletching of the arrows over her shoulder. They’re not a trick of the light in the mirror, and neither is the bow slung across her back. She wets her dry lips again as she takes the tree-grown bow in her hand and examines it.
This is her bow. The one Cerian made for her eighteenth birthday.
And the heartlanding gave it to her because she wished for it?
A knock at the door signals Rominy’s return, and relief fills her. She already misses him.
Memories of their bodies pressed together on that bed heat her cheeks. She could curse her fire magic right now. Pera said to work out the excess fire and take advantage of water when she can.
So far, all she’s managed to do is dehydrate herself trying to contain her magic.
“Are you all right?” Rominy calls through the door, and she licks her lips again. Even her throat feels dry this time.
“I’m well. You may come in.”
The doorknob turns and clicks open, and Rominy steps into the room with a full glass of water in his hand.
Thank the fates for that.
He catches sight of her and freezes, his eyes like saucers. “Elowyn.”
A nervous energy settles over her at his response. Is he impressed? Appalled?
This is who she is, though. She’s an elf. And she’s not ashamed.
Still, her heart beats rapidly under his assessment. Unless that’s his heart.
His gaze roves from her head down her body to the floor, and heat flames her cheeks to match the heat in his eyes.
He definitely approves.
He also seems to have been rendered speechless.
“Thank you for the water,” she says softly.
His brows knit. “Water?”
“In your hand.” A smile threatens to trip across her face at his reaction to her.
He seems to love her as an elven princess as much as he loves her when she’s attempting to fill her role as the future Queen of Nunia.
The thought warms her heart.
He gazes down at the cup in his hand, a flustered look in his eyes. “Water. I brought you water.”
“Yes. Thank you, my love.” After replacing her bow, she takes the cup from him, and he stares at her.
“You called me that before.”
“Hmm?” She guzzles the water, the relief immediate.
“‘My love.’ You called me—”
Swallowing, she cocks her head to the side. “Shall I stop?”
He shakes his head. He still looks flustered. She might need more water if he keeps looking at her like that.
“Let’s get you ready for battle,” she says as she sets aside the empty cup. “I have plans for you tonight, Rominy Montarac.”
He just gapes at her.
“Breathe, Rominy,” she laughs.
“I may never breathe again.” His voice is hoarse as she steps toward him. After pressing a soft kiss to his lips, she places his warrior leathers in his hands.
“Suit up, my love. Tonight, you’re a Prince of Lostariel.”