Episode 60
I’ll Never Let You Fall
“Elowyn will be all right,” Arisanna says when a wild look of fear fills Cerian’s eyes. “Rominy won’t let anything happen to her.”
Swallowing, Cerian nods, and Arisanna sits up to give him room to join her at the edge of the bed in his little treehouse.
She hands him his knapsack and looks into his eyes. “This food is for you. I’ll be fine.”
“What?”
“We’re going to a Nunian city full of unfamiliar people and unfamiliar technology, Cerian.”
This will be a struggle for him. And the cloud that settles over his gaze only confirms it.
“You need to be at your best, or this will be even harder for you,” she continues. “I’ll be fine.”
He shakes his head. “There’s enough to share.”
“There isn’t, and you know it. You need your plant magic to get us out of the tree.” She trails her fingers down his warm cheek. He could probably climb down without magic if he were alone. But he’s not.
“Just eat a little?” he whispers. “For me?”
He looks so desperate, between his worry about Elowyn and his fear of returning to Feressa and his concern for her. How did she ever imagine he was hard and unlikable? He’s so full of fears that he hides behind these walls of his to protect his soft heart.
Their eyes lock, and eventually she nods. If it will help him survive this day, she’ll humor him. “Just a little.”
While he replaces his boots, she nibbles on the nuts and dried berries Cook sent—enough for him to see her eating something while she drops food into his mouth.
“That’s enough for now,” he says softly. “Thank you.”
Soon, they’re out on the platform, and he clears his throat. “I need to let off some heat. Before I...bind us together.”
His cheeks have taken on a pink tinge, and she holds back a smile. “You don’t need to be embarrassed, Cerian. I promise. You’re safe with me.”
Breathing out slowly, he nods, and she watches while he burns through his fire. So much fire. He must be running hot this morning. Not that it’s any wonder after their time in the hot springs. Even she heats at the memory of his hands on her back and his lips pressing kisses to her jaw and neck.
Eventually, his flames fade, and he steps toward her. “Ready?”
“To be tied up with my elven prince? I think I’ll manage.” She tries not to betray her terror at the flying-through-the-air part as she steps toward him.
“Closer,” he whispers, and she takes another step. “Closer.” His lips tilt up in a half smile as she presses herself against him. “Closer.”
“I can’t get any closer,” she laughs.
Then he presses his hand into her back, and every part of her melds against him.
Stars above. He’s solid.
“Ready?” he asks.
Gulping, she nods, and his magic vines reappear, lashing them together.
“You like this part, don’t you?” she says.
He only hesitates for a moment. “I want nothing between us, remember?”
There’s definitely nothing between them now. Other than his leathers and her shimmeron gown.
Before she can respond, he leans near her ear. “Focus on me. I’ll never let you fall.”
With a lurch, they lift off the platform, and the ground looms ever closer. Arisanna buries her face against his shoulder as she focuses on his heart beating within her chest.
And then it’s over. Her feet hit the forest floor, and Cerian’s vines hold them steady while she recovers.
“Are you all right?” he asks softly.
“I think so. Just a little dizzy.”
“I’ve got you. I won’t let you go.”
She looks up into his warm eyes as his vines loosen, but his arms continue to hold her steady.
And then he dips his head and kisses her, his embrace full of affection and devotion and protection. Every kiss means something new. Something different. And she melts in his arms.
“Cerian,” she murmurs against his lips.
“Mmm?”
“My answer is yes.”
“Yes?” He nuzzles her nose. “What was the question?”
“I want to wake up in your arms every morning and fall asleep there each night.”
His breath catches, and his lips find hers again, a little hungrier this time.
And a little warmer.
He tastes like berries and sparks and...and himself. It’s utter perfection.
They’ll never make it to Feressa at this rate.
“We should go,” she eventually whispers. “We need to make sure Elowyn is all right.”
With a soft sigh, Cerian releases her, and suddenly the forest is a lot colder.
After letting off more heat, he offers her his hand, and they turn south toward Nunia as he leads the way through the woods.
Rominy paces the hotel room as Dr. Fulton examines Elowyn. She still hasn’t stirred. If Rominy couldn’t feel her heart beating in his chest, he’d worry it had stopped. But he can, and it hasn’t. It feels as strong as ever, and he tries to hold on to that.
“She wields fire magic?” Dr. Fulton asks.
Rominy clears his throat. “Yes. Fire and water magic.”
“She has a raging fever, Your Highness. Higher than any human fever I’ve ever witnessed. But her body seems able to handle the heat, so I don’t want you to worry about how hot she is.”
Stars above. He wasn’t too worried about the heat before. Now that thought fills his head, adding to his terror.
“What’s wrong with her?” Rominy asks.
“Come here, and I’ll show you.”
Rominy wanders closer again, and Dr. Fulton points to the wound on her arm. A web of purple tendrils extends from it beneath her skin, and Rominy frowns.
“Now, I can’t say for sure, Your Highness, because I have never witnessed a reaction quite like this, but her body is either rejecting some foreign substance, or this is what an infection looks like in an elf.”
“You don’t know?”
“I will be frank with you, Your Highness. My knowledge of the medical differences between humans and elves is lacking. It’s not something they teach at the university.”
The sick feeling in the pit of Rominy’s stomach grows. “Can you help her?”
“I can try removing the stitching in case she’s reacting to the thread itself, but her body healed more quickly than I expected it to, and the stitches are embedded within the tissue now.”
“What are you saying?”
“Sit, Your Highness.”
Rominy drops to the edge of the bed as his legs give out. Nothing about the doctor’s tone makes him feel better.
“Now listen to me, Rominy. May I call you Rominy?”
Rominy nods.
“Your wife is very sick. If she were human, we would be having a different conversation.”
When the meaning of the doctor’s words occurs to Rominy, he almost loses his stomach contents.
“But your wife is an elf. And I have no intention of letting both of you die under my watch. She is strong. Do you hear me?”
Rominy nods. Elowyn’s the strongest person he knows.
“So these are your options,” the doctor continues. “I can try to remove the stitching, but I may cut into the tendons in a way that makes her arm useless to her if I try.”
Useless? Rominy’s breathing becomes more rapid, but Elowyn’s voice telling him to take a deep breath echoes in his heart.
“What other options are there?”
“I could amputate. It would stop the spread of whatever this is.”
“No.” Rominy shakes his head.
“It would save her life.”
“You don’t know that. You said yourself you don’t know what’s wrong. Give me another option.”
“There is one other option, but it’s a gamble.”
“What is it?”
“We get her to her own people as fast as we can and hope we’re not too late.”
“But Feressa is a day away by train. And Darlei—”
“By passenger train. The industrial trains run on a spur directly to Feressa. It will get you there in half the time.”
“And then what? How do I get her to Darlei? I don’t even know—”
“You send a telegram to Feressa now, Rominy. Have someone cross the border to deliver it, and hope against hope that help comes in time.”
Rominy struggles to breathe as he processes the doctor’s words.
“You need to be strong now, Rominy,” the doctor says. “For her.”
He’s not strong. He’s never been strong.
“What do you want me to do?” Dr. Fulton asks.
What would Elowyn want?
Rominy glances down at her pale face, usually so full of life. Her reaction to the doctor yesterday fills Rominy’s head. Is there even a question?
“Get her ready to travel,” Rominy says. Then he calls for Jonas, who appears in the doorway.
“Yes, Your Highness?”
“I need to send a telegram, and I need to commandeer the rail line between here and Feressa. And we need to move fast.”