Episode 100
Do Not Disturb
Cerian stares at the door before looking back at Arisanna. She’s sunken as far into the tub as she can without getting her hair wet.
Whistling wind. Why is someone knocking on their door?
Is something happening with Elowyn?
The knock sounds again, and Arisanna juts her chin toward the door.
Answer it. She wishes for him to answer it.
Of course he’s supposed to answer it. It’s not as if she can right now.
“Just a crack,” she whispers as he pushes himself to his feet and looks down at her where she’s trying to disappear into the water.
Definitely just a crack.
He crosses the floor that’s still littered with vines and clears his throat. “Who is it?”
“Room service, Your Highness. Your father asked us to deliver your dinner to you here.”
Thank the fates it’s not Arisanna’s mother.
“Just...leave the tray.” He pushes the words out. He should say all the niceties, like thank you and please, but his mouth isn’t eager to cooperate. Somehow, he adds a “thank you,” and the man soon leaves.
Cerian cracks the door open to ensure no one else is out there before collecting the tray and carrying it to the tub.
“Dinner?” Arisanna relaxes again, and he can barely look away as he lowers himself to the floor.
Whistling wind, she’s gorgeous.
But he tries not to stare. That would just make her uncomfortable.
“Are you still hungry after your apple?” she asks, and he shrugs.
“I could eat more. You should eat more than half a caramel apple.”
She sighs. “I don’t want to get out yet. I just got in.”
“I’ll feed it to you.” He glances her way again. “If you wish me to.”
“I feel very spoiled right now.” The hint of laughter in her voice draws out his smile.
“I like taking care of you. Here.” He lifts a bite of what appears to be a roasted turnip to her, and their eyes connect as she opens her mouth to receive it.
They sit quietly while he offers her bites of steak and turnips, and he eats a little more himself. The adoration in her gaze every time she looks at him makes his heart beat a little faster. She must feel it.
“Will you warm the water for me?” she asks tentatively, as if she’s afraid to ask for anything at all. But she does ask, and he could kiss her for it.
And he’s more than happy to have an outlet for the fire magic that encroaches on him every time he looks at her. He hovers his hand over the water near her feet and directs some of his heat into it. “Better?”
“Perfect. Thank you for this.”
As if he’s not enjoying this, too. The only thing better would be joining her.
He doesn’t rush her, and they sit and talk for a while about all sorts of random things.
Eventually, she sighs. “I should get out so we can check on Elowyn again.”
“Thank you for bringing me here. I believe you were right. I needed a break.”
“We both did. Hand me a towel?”
He helps her out the way he did this morning, cocooning her in warm air as he wraps the towel around her.
“Next time, you should join me,” she says softly, another tentative look in her eyes, and he presses a soft kiss to her lips before resting his forehead against hers.
“I would like that.”
A lot.
She dresses, and he gathers all their used dishes, including his bowl with the leftover caramel apples in it, since he’s unsure what else to do with the sticky mess.
“Perhaps we should hang this on the door so the new decor doesn’t make some poor maid faint.” Arisanna holds out a small hooked placard with something written on it in Nunian.
“What does it say?”
“Do not disturb.”
He nods. That would be wise, at least until he can figure out how to get rid of all the vines. Perhaps he should burn them in the hearth.
That’s a problem for later, though.
They stand together at the door as he carries their tray to return to the kitchens, and he breathes out slowly.
“I won’t leave your side,” she says, and he nods as she opens the door, and they return to everyone and everything awaiting them in the rooms below.
Rominy glances up when the door opens to admit Arisanna and Cerian. They disappeared at some point, but he’s been too focused on Elowyn to ask if they’re all right.
They look all right.
And stars above, Sanna’s hair is elaborately tied up with vines. Cerian really does like playing with her hair.
Rominy tries not to think about that too much. Or where they’ve been for the past few hours.
“How is she?” Cerian sets down what must be their dinner tray, retrieving a mass of candy wrappings before approaching the bed with Arisanna at his side.
Mother went to lie down earlier, and Father joined her.
Tharios dozes in a chair nearby. The rest of Elowyn’s family went for a walk after dinner, except for Viala, who apparently can’t wander more than a few rooms away from Tharios for reasons Rominy didn’t understand nor have the energy to ask about.
They’re not heartbound. He knows that much. But she stayed, and she’s been checking on Rominy occasionally as they attempt to communicate in Elvish. She speaks little Nunian, and his Lothlesian begins and ends with the word Lothlesian.
It’s been interesting, to say the least.
Viala sits near the window, creating some kind of magic light in her palm. Over and over. Off. On. Off. On.
And it’s blue. Not golden-white like Elowyn’s lights.
He didn’t bother trying to find the Elvish words to ask Viala what she’s doing.
At least Cerian and Arisanna are here to translate now.
“She’s been in and out of consciousness all evening,” Rominy says as he looks down at Elowyn’s sleeping form beside him on the bed, where he sits holding her hand.
“Tharios is worried she’s trying to wake before she’s ready because she’s attempting to reach me, but he wants to wait a little longer before sending me back to the heartlanding with her. ”
“I’m sorry,” Arisanna says softly, and she doesn’t have to explain.
She understands how much it’s killing him to be here while Elowyn’s there, struggling to find him.
Suddenly, a flame erupts from Viala’s hand, far larger than any indoor flame should be.
She mutters what sounds like a curse in Lothlesian as she struggles to extinguish the flame lapping at the curtains. Tharios bolts awake and rushes toward her, Elvish words flying from his lips.
But it’s Cerian who hurries to wrap her blue flame in his own orange one before stifling it between his hands, leaving only the charred curtain behind.
For a few moments, they all silently stare at each other.
Arisanna lowers herself to the edge of the bed at Rominy’s side. Her eyes are wide, mirroring the shock Rominy feels as he tries to calm his racing heart.
Then Tharios says something to Viala in Elvish about protecting her and magic and fire. And Cerian.
Rominy glances at Arisanna.
“He said he can’t protect her easily from errant fire magic, and he would have burned himself trying if Cerian hadn’t been here.”
Viala pales before speaking rapidly in what doesn’t sound like Elvish.
She’s clearly frustrated. And apologetic. But before she finishes, Tharios wraps his arms around her and pulls her close, and Rominy looks away as Cerian returns to Arisanna’s side.
“What’s going on?” she whispers to him.
Cerian hesitates as he glances back at Tharios and Viala. “She’s frustrated by her lack of control over her magic. It was an accident.”
That much was obvious. It seems unlikely that Viala would set the hotel on fire on purpose.
“They are oathbound,” Cerian says. “Tharios is bound by magic to protect her, with his own life if necessary. It’s...a lengthy story.”
Oathbound?
“Is that why they can’t be separated?” Rominy asks.
“It is,” Tharios says as he holds his wife. “You can’t see it unless I make it visible, but a physical bond between us prevents me from traveling too far from her.”
He waves his hand, and a rope made of threads of golden and blue light illuminates the room. One end wraps around Tharios’s wrist, and the other end is lashed to Viala’s arm.
Stars above. That...was unexpected.