Episode 170 Not in Nunia Anymore
Not in Nunia Anymore
Arisanna clutches Cerian’s hand as they make their way out of Windhaven House and onto the cobbled streets of Darlei.
So much has happened since Cerian stepped into her life—unexpected events no one ever trained her for. But this...this she can do. Smile. Be polite. Stand still and get trussed up like a doll, impeccably attired to be put on display as a perfect princess.
“Are you all right?” Cerian asks. “Your grip is more firm than usual.”
Stars above. She releases her hold on his hand, but he grabs it back.
“Don’t let go,” he says. “You couldn’t hurt me if you tried. But something is bothering you.”
She offers him a smile. “I’m fi—” Her words cut off, and her smile fades. She can’t lie to him. Of course she can’t.
“Sanna,” he says softly, and she sighs. Before she knows what’s happening, he sweeps her under the shade of a nearby tree, whose branches fill out before her eyes.
A gift of privacy. She could kiss him.
Surely the others will notice their absence, but Cerian doesn’t rush her as she finds her words, the way he so often searches for his.
“I was raised to assess and navigate the complexities of any court,” she whispers. “You’d think I’d be in my element. But all I can hear is my mother’s voice over my shoulder telling me to do this and do that and not do this and not do that. To fill a role and be...and be—”
“Perfect.”
She sighs as she looks away. “Yes. Always on display. Always concerned with what others will think. But these weeks with you, Cerian. I feel—for perhaps the first time in my life, I’ve felt free.”
She meets his gaze, those beautiful emerald eyes finding their way deep within her, to the parts of her heart she shares with no one else.
“Just be mine, Sanna,” he murmurs before pausing to find his own words. “I can’t say what we’ll face in Celesta. But today, we aren’t going to Celesta. We’re just going shopping. Fates save me.”
She can’t help the laugh that bubbles up inside her. He must hate shopping.
“The only person looking at you today will be me.” He tugs her close, and she gazes up at him as he wraps his arms around her waist.
“You? And Rominy and Elowyn and Grandmera and Jonas and—”
He cuts her off with a soft kiss. “Just me. I hope Grandmera puts you in leather.”
“Leath—”
He kisses her again, more eagerly this time, and she melts against his solid chest. His arms hold her steady. Secure.
Safe.
She’ll always be safe with him.
“Forget shopping,” she whispers as his lips trail along her neck. “I want to go back to your chamber.”
“But I need you in leather first.”
Laughter finds her again as his hands on her back grow warm.
Perhaps she could wear leather for him.
“Just you?” she whispers again as she drops her head back while he trails kisses down her throat.
“Just me. Focus on me, Sanna. I won’t leave your side. You don’t have to perform for anyone. Not today. Just spend a morning with me.”
“Shopping.”
“Shopping. Fates save me.”
She wraps her arms around his neck, and he holds her close as she takes a deep breath and nods against him. “Thank you. I don’t know how I survived without you.”
“You faked a lot of smiles.”
She pulls back to find his laughing eyes. “I did, didn’t I?”
“I’m able to tell the difference now. See this smile?” He traces her lips with his very warm finger. “This one is genuine.” Then he kisses her again before letting her go.
“We should probably catch up with the others now,” she mumbles.
“They’re waiting.” Cerian shrugs.
“What?” She’s about to peek under the branches but thinks better of it.
“Your brother walks very loudly. As does his guard. They all stopped shortly after we did. I’ll spare you the details of their conversation.”
Heat races up her cheeks. “Stars above. Cerian!”
“Just me. Forget everyone else.” He steals one last kiss. And she breathes out slowly as she does her best to steady herself.
This is normal. Hiding in a tree while your elven husband trails his lips over you. Perfectly normal.
When they step out into the sun again, the others are there just like Cerian said, and her face heats even more.
“I needed a moment,” she hurries to say. As if she has to explain herself. She should have simply gone on like she wasn’t just passionately kissed within a tree on the street outside Windhaven.
“A moment,” Rominy says. “You saw a tree and thought this would be a good time to—”
Elowyn smacks his arm. “Yes, Rominy. A moment. You have moments, too.”
He and Elowyn stare at each other as some sort of wordless conversation passes between them. Have they mastered the art of speaking without words, too?
Then Rominy clears his throat. “I think I’m doing my moments wrong.”
Elowyn bursts into laughter, and relief sweeps over Arisanna as Grandmera ushers everyone forward again. The elven warriors Rafelis assigned to Rominy’s guard unit follow behind them, which makes sense. Jonas can’t very well guard Rominy himself while being fitted for new clothing.
Darlei is a quiet town. Peaceful. Almost like something out of a storybook for children, with its ethereal beauty.
The buildings they pass are all tree-grown like Windhaven, and Arisanna attempts to pick out the Elvish runes on the quaint shops.
Everything is understated here, unlike in Nunia, where bold is the fashion of the day, at least when it comes to architecture.
Grandmera stops in front of a shop with a large window revealing elven fashions within, and Arisanna clutches Cerian’s hand.
Clothing fittings. She can handle clothing fittings.
“Here we are,” Grandmera says. “This will undoubtedly be awkward for certain members of our party, but we will endure as best as we can.”
Arisanna glances at Jonas, but his expression is difficult to read. He’s been a fixture in their lives for years, but she never imagined having much in common with him, aside from her loyalty to Rominy. She definitely never imagined they’d both be heartbound to elves one day.
At least they have Grandmera to take the lead as they pass through the doors.
It’s a good thing the shop is spacious. By the time they all pile inside, it’s a little crowded. Taliel says something to the elven warriors, and they quickly sweep the shop and nod before returning to the street.
“My queen,” the elven woman who greets them says.
“I received your missive and am honored by your presence today. My father is in the back awaiting your arrival and is ready to assist the prince and his guard. It may take us burning the candle at both ends, but I’m certain we can accommodate you before you depart for Celesta.
Having our fashions displayed in high society is a boon my father would not soon turn down. ”
“I knew I could count on you, Fiarese.”
Fiarese smiles. “If the two of you would follow me,” she says to Rominy and Jonas. “Your binding partners are welcome, of course.” She leads the four of them down a curving corridor into some recess of the shop, and Arisanna glances at the displays full of elven fashions of every kind.
It truly is a good thing Grandmera is here. Cerian’s scowl is already fighting for a place on his face. He would undoubtedly be little help to Arisanna in choosing elven fashions.
Other than the leather he seems to have his heart set on for her, that is.
Fiarese soon reappears with a friendly smile. “Now I get the privilege of having you all to myself, my princess.” She studies Arisanna thoughtfully, tapping her finger on her chin, and Arisanna doesn’t shrink under the woman’s gaze.
Arisanna has seen that look too many times to count. Usually, it comes before she’s trussed up in the latest Nunian fashions for some important event.
“Your hair is lovely. We should highlight it as much as possible.”
Arisanna glances at Cerian, who seems not at all opposed to that as he runs his eyes over her hair.
“And with the prince’s fondness for leather, you would make a striking pair attired to match.”
Stars above. And there it is. Cerian doesn’t seem at all opposed to that, either.
“Only the best ayervadi for Arisanna,” Grandmera says. “Can you accommodate us on such short notice?”
“I believe so. Am I correct in assuming these are Princess Elowyn’s clothes you wear now, my princess?”
“They are,” Arisanna says.
“Perfect. And they fit you as if they were made for you. Believe it or not, we always keep an extra set of ayervadi leathers on hand in Princess Elowyn’s size because she goes through them so quickly.”
Grandmera laughs. “Having seen my granddaughter’s clothing expenses and the state of her wardrobe, I believe it.”
“I’m told you need sleeping attire and small clothes as well.” The woman says it matter-of-factly without lowering her voice the way a Nunian modiste would have done, and heat flames Arisanna’s cheeks.
“That is correct,” Grandmera says when Arisanna doesn’t respond.
“What about formal wear?” Fiarese asks.
“She has a shimmeron gown that shall suffice for now,” Grandmera says, and the woman nods.
“So the leathers for traveling and underclothes, along with something similar to what you wear now for everyday style. I have a few options on hand that should fit you. Shall we commence?”
Without waiting for a response, Fiarese locks the front door and pulls a cord to close a curtain across the large window. Apparently, Arisanna’s fittings are to take place here.
It’s more private than some of her fittings back in Nunia, with seamstresses and servants flitting in and out with little regard for Arisanna’s modesty. However, there was never a man present.
Not that she has anything to hide from Cerian. His presence is a comfort.
Mother would be scandalized at the thought of him being in this room now as Fiarese flits about, gathering item after item, presumably for Arisanna to try on.
“Shall I set up the screen, my princess?” the woman asks. “Some of my clients prefer the full reveal of complete ensembles the screen provides, while others dislike the fuss.”
All eyes land on her. Stars above. How is she supposed to respond to that? A lack of fuss is appealing, but the privacy of the screen feels necessary in mixed company like this.
Despite it being Cerian.
She glances at him, but his expression remains unchanged. Perhaps he’s the one who needs the screen to shut out the world for a few minutes.
Before she can muster words to respond, Cerian turns to Fiarese. “A fuss is unnecessary. It’s just me.”
Arisanna clamps her jaw shut. He’s probably trying to help, and she adores him for it.
But as Fiarese nods and reaches for the fastening at the back of Arisanna’s collar with Cerian and Grandmera standing there, one thing is clear.
She’s definitely not in Nunia anymore.