Episode 80 No Longer a Secret
No Longer a Secret
“You’re warming up the entire alcove,” Arisanna whispers as Cerian lets his vines wander.
“It’s all right. I’m managing it.”
Barely. He won’t last much longer before he needs to pull back, but his fire isn’t out of his control quite yet.
And he’s enjoying this too much to stop. She seems to be enjoying it, too.
Voices arise from down the hallway, and they freeze.
“That’s my father,” she whispers.
“I believe I hear my father’s voice as well.” He listens closely for a moment. “They’re looking for us.”
Panic widens her eyes, and she looks so adorable he steals another kiss. He can’t seem to help himself.
“Cerian! We can’t just emerge from a closet like this! I didn’t think this through properly.”
A smile threatens his lips, but he holds it back. “Remember when we spent the night on the observation deck, and you didn’t want anyone to know?”
She looks up at him and purses her lips. “Are you mocking me?”
“I...no.” He shakes his head. Does she really think that? “Forgive me. I was trying to reassure you that it was all right then, and it’s all right now.”
“Oh.”
“I love you, Arisanna. I’m not mocking you. I wouldn’t do that.”
She covers her face, and he watches her in surprise. Is she all right?
“I’m sorry,” she whispers. “It’s been a long day, and—”
Unsure what else to do, he wraps his arms around her and holds her. Apparently, it’s his turn to be strong.
Her father’s voice travels the length of the hallway toward them, though she probably can’t hear him with her human ears. “They ducked into a room at the end of the corridor? Whose room is that?”
“I couldn’t say, Your Majesty,” an unfamiliar voice answers. One of King Gerault’s guards must have seen them.
“I believe it’s a storage closet,” Father says, and Cerian’s eyes slide shut. Whatever secret Arisanna was hoping to keep is no longer a secret.
“Is it really?” Arisanna’s father asks as he chuckles. “Perhaps we should leave them be.”
“They are...fond of each other,” Father says, and the smile in his voice is clear even from here.
“That much was obvious when they met me at the station. This heartbinding—it works quickly, doesn’t it?”
“It doesn’t make them fall in love,” Father says. “It just helps them see all the reasons they might want to.”
Cerian opens his eyes and glances down at Arisanna. So many reasons to fall in love with her.
“Fascinating,” King Gerault says. “And Rominy and Elowyn? Are they in love, too?”
“Rominy and Elowyn’s love for each other is etched on their hearts wholly and completely.”
“Cerian?”
He almost jumps at Arisanna’s voice. He was focused on straining to hear their fathers’ conversation.
Which is probably not something he should be doing, especially since Arisanna needs him now.
“Yes?” he says softly as he tightens his arms around her and pushes their fathers’ voices from his mind.
“Will you...say it again?”
It? Say it? Say what?
He searches his memory, trying to guess what she’s asking for, when she continues, “I’m feeling the weight of everyone’s expectations again, and I need you to remind me—”
“That you’re mine,” he finishes for her, relief filling him that he didn’t guess something else. “Nothing else matters.”
She clings to him, though she doesn’t cry the way she did last night in the heartlanding. And he just holds her and rubs her back and combs his fingers through her hair.
“Our fathers know we’re in here,” he eventually says. “And it made them happy.”
She finally looks up at him. “What? How do you know?”
“My hearing is better than yours.”
“Oh. So your elf ears serve a purpose beyond being fun to play with?” Her beautiful smile is back, and his fire magic flares at the warmth in her eyes and the heat in her words.
He lifts his brows. “Fun to play with? My ears are fun to play with?”
“I can’t lie to you, Cerian.”
He slides his eyes closed again and takes a deep breath as the memory of her hands on his ears last night reawakens his plant magic and makes his palms tingle.
“Perhaps...we can continue this conversation later,” he whispers. Somewhere with water.
“Or we could skip the talking. Later.”
Whistling wind. That’s the opposite of helpful.
“I’m ready.” Queen Yalisa’s voice carries toward them, and Arisanna cringes.
“Even I heard that,” she says.
“I believe they’re going to visit Elowyn and Rominy now. Do you wish to join them?”
She hesitates for a moment, and he can read the fear in her eyes. Fear of not being perfect. Of disappointing people.
As if they’ve done anything wrong here in this little alcove.
“Just be mine,” he whispers.
Taking a deep breath, she nods.
“And I already smoothed your hair while I combed my fingers through it. I give you my word, and I can’t lie to you, either. You look beautiful.”
She smiles faintly. “I don’t look like an elf has been having his way with me?”
Her eyes seem to be struggling between amusement and anxiety, and he shakes his head. “Unfortunately not.”
The words pop out before he can stop them, and she stares at him before laughing.
Then she lifts onto her toes to press her lips to his cheek. “Thank you, my elven prince. For everything.”
“You’re mine now,” he whispers. “That’s all that matters. Are you prepared to join the others again?”
Not that he’s eager to be around anyone besides her, but she was right. This time away from the others has made everything at least bearable again.
And he would like to check on Elowyn.
Arisanna nods, and he retrieves his bucket before reaching for her hand.
“I won’t let go,” he promises before she can ask this time. “Ever.”
Taking one more deep breath, she draws the curtain aside, and together, they emerge from their not-so-secret hiding place into the hallway beyond.
Arisanna holds her breath, but no one says anything as she and Cerian approach, though her cheeks must be flaming.
Father smiles when he sees them, but he keeps whatever he’s thinking to himself.
Thank heavens.
Perhaps Cerian is right, and she spends too much time worrying about things she doesn’t need to worry about.
At least Mother seems so anxious about seeing Rominy that she barely notices Arisanna at all.
Small mercies.
“Now remember, Tharios wishes for us to be quiet while we’re in the room,” King Lorial says. “To keep Rominy’s heart steady and strong for both of them.”
Mother nods. Hopefully, her love for Rominy will help her keep her voice down.
Cerian pauses to set his bucket inside their hotel room before they follow the others. He never lets go of her hand, though she feels a little silly now for imagining anyone would care what they were doing in that alcove when they’re all so focused on how ill Elowyn is.
As they squeeze into the small room, King Lorial pulls a chair to Rominy’s side of the bed for Mother.
“He looks like he’s sleeping,” Mother says quietly.
“He is sleeping,” Tharios says. “I can wake him if you wish me to, but keeping his heart rate steady is the best thing for both of them right now.”
“Don’t wake him,” Father says. “If he loves her, he’ll want that. And he’s with her now in this...heartlanding?”
“Most likely,” King Lorial says. “That’s usually how the magic works.”
“How long has he been sleeping?” Father asks.
“Since very early this morning,” Cerian’s mother says from near her husband’s side as Grandmera holds Elowyn’s hand in the chair Cerian was sitting in earlier.
She must be a fire wielder, too.
“Elowyn has been slowly gaining ground today,” Tharios says. “I am encouraged. I can’t promise she’s past the worst of it, but I am hopeful.”
A sob catches in Mother’s throat, and Arisanna’s eyes prickle, but she blinks back the sensation as she clings to Cerian. To her surprise, he lets go of her hand and wraps his arm around her instead. Right there in front of everyone.
Not that anyone is looking at them.
Pushing away her fears of doing something that might scandalize Mother, Arisanna rests her head against Cerian’s shoulder. Maybe he needs her comfort as much as she needs him right now.
“Where do you go in these dreams of yours, my darling?” Mother whispers as her cheeks grow damp with her quiet tears.
“Water,” Cerian says. He clears his throat, and Arisanna’s heart warms. Is he trying to comfort Mother? “I picture them near water. Elowyn loves water.”
“The sea,” Mother breathes. “That’s what she meant. When I asked where they wanted to honeymoon, she said she’d always wanted to see the ocean, but she was satisfied on that front.”
The room grows quiet as they all watch the sleeping couple.
“She would love that,” King Lorial says. “Thank you, Yalisa. Let’s imagine her there on the water, happy with Rominy.”
His voice is full of emotion, and Cerian tightens his arm around Arisanna’s shoulders as she pictures Rominy and Elowyn by the sea.
When Elowyn wakes, warmth seeps through her lightweight gown into her back as Rominy’s solid chest rests against her. His arm lies over her waist, and his gentle breathing tickles her neck.
Did they fall asleep curled up together like this? And where are they?
Without moving, she studies the room around her. It’s their tiny bedroom in their cozy cottage.
They’re still in the heartlanding.
At least they’re together while she lies unconscious in the real world. Tharios is taking good care of them both. Of that, she has no doubt.
They might as well enjoy their time here together. Perhaps Rominy will agree to go on an adventure today. She endured his moping yesterday. He seemed too full of anxiety to do anything else.
But they’ll both be happier if he doesn’t spend hours staring out the window at the rain.
She’d rather dance in it.
His hand on her waist tightens into a fist around her satiny gown, and she gives him a moment to get his bearings.
“We’re still in the heartlanding,” he whispers.
“Yes, my love. Perhaps think about something else today. Something that induces happier thoughts in your mind.”
“In other words...no more moping?”
“Happy thoughts, my love.”
His sigh ruffles her hair. “Well, I quite like waking with you pressed against me like this.” He releases his clenched fist and, after the briefest hesitation, slides his hand along her hip and leg. “Yes. This makes me happy.”
He nuzzles her neck, and all the reasons they can’t do this flee to a recess of her mind as she rolls to her back and looks up at him.
“Even better.” His hand slides along her leg again, and he leans down to press his lips to hers in a kiss that quickly deepens as his hand wanders to other parts of her.
Whistling wind.
Abruptly, he pulls away. “You’re growing warm, and I am clearly the weakest of men.” He laughs a little hoarsely and flops to his back beside her while she resists the urge to groan.
He’s right to stop. Of course he’s right.
But she doesn’t have to like it.
“We should go on an adventure today,” he says. “Anything to distract me. I’m sure you’re full of ideas. Pick something with little risk of dying, though. Please.”
A smile slips onto her face. “I know the perfect thing.”