Episode 194 I Like That Idea
I Like That Idea
As Rominy and Elowyn return to their room to pack, thoughts of Father and Mother lodge in Rominy’s head.
He can imagine how Mother must feel about him being in Lostariel during a season of unrest.
But what would Father tell him?
Father’s always encouraged him to try new things. To see new places. To expand his understanding of the world.
Being in Lostariel now will make him a better king one day.
That’s probably what Father would tell him. At least, he hopes so.
Along with telling him to listen to Jonas and let the poor man do his job.
Rominy’s thoughts are interrupted by a squeal from Elowyn as soon as they slip into their room.
“Your clothes are here!” she cries.
“What?” He steps around her to see a pile of paper-wrapped packages lying on the bed.
She already has one in her hands as she pulls back the wrappings. It’s a tunic similar to what Tharios wears when he’s not in full leathers.
“That looks a lot more comfortable than a waistcoat and necktie,” Rominy mutters.
She holds it up to him. “And they chose the perfect color to bring out your eyes. Oh, I love it.”
“What do I wear it with? Leather trousers?”
That seems to be Tharios’s preferred ensemble. Lorial usually wears wool at home, though.
“Let’s see.” Elowyn sets it aside and reaches for another package. “Oh, look at this. I’m swooning already.”
“What is it?”
She holds up some sort of black frock coat in a satiny material that glimmers in the light.
“Well, that’s fancy,” he says. “I assume it’s for formal affairs?”
“Yes. And here are the matching trousers. But where are the less formal trousers?” She grabs one of the other bigger packages and pulls back the paper. “Here they are. Wool. But you can wear the tunic with what you have on if you prefer.”
“Like Tharios does?”
She nods. “Oh, another tunic. Good. So you’ll have two, plus your leathers and formal clothes.”
“I can survive with that.”
“And we can get you more while we’re there. Here, try on the tunic.” She tosses it to him, and he chuckles as he reaches for his shirt.
“What do you think?” he asks after he smooths the tunic into place and holds his arms out to the sides.
“I love it so much I just want to take it off you again.”
Laughter bursts from him at that. “You do, huh?” Then he turns serious. “Think anyone else wants the arena tonight?”
She rises from the bed and steps toward him. “We could check.”
“We should probably pack first,” he whispers as she slides her arms around his neck.
“Probably.” She kisses him instead, and he doesn’t complain.
“You’re not as warm today,” he murmurs against her lips.
“My fire feels more manageable.”
“I’ll just have to set you on fire every night to keep the heat at bay.” He kisses her again.
“Mmm. I like that idea.”
“I’m certainly not complaining.” After another kiss, he pulls away. “We really should pack.”
“I suppose. Then you’re all mine, Your Highness.”
He just smiles and shakes his head.
But he definitely won’t complain.
Viala sighs contentedly as she rests against Tharios’s chest in the bath.
It would be more pleasant if it were warmer, but Tharios was annoyingly insistent that this is warm enough.
He’s sweet. He may drive her to insanity during the next nine months, but he’s sweet.
“How are you feeling?” he asks softly as he kisses her ear.
His obsession with her ears has always amused her.
“I feel fine. Maybe a little more tired than usual, but that’s it.”
“Good. The nausea might start soon, or it might not. Not everyone gets it.”
“I don’t believe nausea during pregnancy is as prevalent among the Lothlesi as it is for elves and humans.”
“Let’s hope so. I’ve seen some pretty miserable patients in the past. I need to talk to Sorisa before we leave. This is not the best timing, I’ll admit.”
“We should probably get out of the bath soon anyway so we can take care of everything that needs to happen before we leave.”
Tharios sighs and presses another kiss to her temple. “Thank you for this. It was exactly what I needed.”
“I know my elf prince well.”
“I adore you, faerie. I should take you on a picnic tonight.”
Viala turns her head to look at him. “In the arena?”
He nods. “Would you like that?”
“Sounds absolutely perfect, my love.”
“Good. Let’s get you dried off, all right?”
He seems eager to care for her, and she doesn’t argue.
It’s who he is, and she wouldn’t have it any other way.
“Where are we going?” Arisanna asks when Cerian turns the wrong way in the main corridor outside the royal wing. Jonas and Taliel stand nearby, watching over Rominy, and Arisanna smiles their way before hurrying after Cerian.
Then she remembers what she’s wearing, and heat fills her.
She’d probably better get used to dressing this way around others if she’s planning to wear her new leathers while they travel.
“I want to visit the kitchen,” Cerian says.
“The kitchen?” Arisanna frowns. “I thought we were going to the arena.”
“We are. We’ll need food.”
Arisanna’s heart melts a little.
He’s planning to take her on a picnic of their own.
When they step into the kitchen, Cook takes one look at Cerian before shaking her head and chuckling. “I’d ask you to put this basket back on the shelf, but I have a feeling I’ll be filling it again tonight instead. Is that what this is, Master Cerian?”
“Do you mind?” he asks.
“Of course I mind. But I never could tell you no, could I? This one’s special, Miss Arisanna. You keep him close.”
Cerian blushes at Cook’s words, and Arisanna rests her head against his shoulder.
If Cook has noticed the leathers Arisanna wears, she hasn’t said anything. This probably seems normal for elves, though. Perhaps it really is no big deal.
“Move this sack of potatoes for me, and then get on with you,” Cook says. “I’ll send the basket to the arena when it’s ready.”
“How about we help you with the potatoes first?” Arisanna offers.
Well, Cerian will be more helpful than she will, but she’ll do her best.
“I like this one, too,” Cook says as she points her spoon at Arisanna. “I certainly won’t turn down help peeling potatoes.”
Cerian grins at Arisanna before squeezing her hand. Then he leans near her ear. “I like this one, too.”
They quickly wash their hands before sitting at the table with a pile of potatoes between them.
“I expect all your fingers to remain intact,” Cerian says quietly as he slides a small knife toward her. “I doubt Tharios feels like reattaching anything today.”
Arisanna blanches at that thought. “Fingers intact. Got it. Now show me how this is done.”
By the time Rominy and Elowyn track down a couple of small travel chests and Elowyn decides what to pack, it’s almost dinnertime.
Elowyn clearly loves clothes. No wonder her wardrobe is bulging, as is her tiny trunk. She looks comical attempting to sit on it while flipping the latch and making sure nothing is sticking out.
“Do you want help, love?” Rominy asks.
“I think I got it. Now I just can’t open it until we reach Celesta.”
Rominy chuckles. “Well, that took longer than I thought it would.”
“Forgive me for that. It’s so hard to choose, and now I’m starving. Should we have another picnic?”
“Cook won’t mind?”
“Not if you ask sweetly.” Elowyn smiles up at him and flutters her lashes.
“I am not doing that with my eyelids.”
“Fine. Just smile and compliment her cooking before making a request. That’s what Pera does.”
“I witnessed this. She still threatened him.”
Elowyn waves Rominy’s words off as she steps toward the door. “It’s all part of the fun. Come on.”
With a sigh, he follows her. It’s apparently time to put those diplomatic skills of his to work.