Episode 128 We’ll Find Him
We’ll Find Him
Rominy wakes to the faint sound of a train whistle in the distance and sighs. That must be Mother and Father’s train.
Elowyn stretches beside him, and he wraps his arm around her waist before remembering he’s not supposed to set her on fire here.
“Should I move my arm?” he asks.
“Please don’t. I love snuggling with you in the morning, though it’s odd waking alone in the real world.”
It is odd. Usually, someone from Elowyn’s family is in the room when they wake.
“How are you feeling?” he asks.
“I feel well right now. I’m sure if I attempt to stand, I’ll feel much worse.”
He smiles at her words. “You’ll get there.
” When a knock sounds, Rominy pulls back his arm and looks up in surprise.
“A knock. That’s a first. And appreciated since I’m half-dressed.
Stars above. Just a minute!” He throws on his shirt from the chair where he left it last night before calling, “Come in!”
Grandmera steps through the door, and Rominy doesn’t miss the way she glances around the room before settling her gaze on Elowyn. “You look bright-eyed this morning.”
“I feel much more like myself.”
“I am glad to hear it. I—”
“Pera!” Elowyn cries, and Rominy glances toward the door. It’s Lorial, and he looks troubled.
“Your color has returned, my elfling. How happy that makes me.”
Rominy frowns. Despite his words, that’s not Lorial’s happy face.
“What’s wrong?” Elowyn asks, clearly observing the same thing. She swings her feet to the floor. “Is Mother—”
Rominy drops to the bed and pulls Elowyn back before she ends up in a heap on the rug.
“Your mother is well. Healing slowly, but much improved. Forgive me. I had an unsettling dream, and—”
“I can’t find him,” Grandmera whispers. “Either of them. I told Tharios to spend the evening with Viala, and now they’re gone. I expected them back by now. But the stable master said they took Stardust last night and haven’t returned.”
Rominy’s heart almost stops at her words, and Elowyn tries to climb off the bed again, but he holds her close.
They don’t need her collapsing on the floor right now.
“I dreamed Viala was attempting to speak to me, but her words were garbled, and I couldn’t make sense of it,” Lorial says. “Where would they have gone?”
“Trysting under the stars, most likely,” Grandmera says. “Let’s calm down and think this through. They are neither of them helpless. Perhaps they just haven’t returned yet.”
“Father was hardly helpless when that musket ball entered his heart,” Lorial says.
Terror. That’s a look of terror on Lorial’s face. Stars above. It’s unsettling.
Of course he’s terrified. His son is missing.
“Forgive me, Mother. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“I admit you were not the only one thinking it,” Grandmera says.
“I’ll have to sweep the land with my air magic and hope I don’t frighten any humans nearby.” Lorial groans. “Perhaps if Gerault accompanies me, people won’t be as alarmed.”
“He...he left,” Rominy says. “He was needed in Levina. But I’ll go with you.” Rominy glances at Elowyn in his arms. Can he go without her?
“Whatever you’re thinking, Elowyn, put it from your mind,” Lorial says. “You are not well enough to leave this room.”
He knows his daughter well.
“But, Pera, Rominy—”
“I am grateful for the offer, Rominy. Truly. But it will need to be Arisanna this time. Eventually, you’ll be able to manage farther distances from each other, but it’s too soon.”
Rominy nods. “I thought that might be the case.”
“Why didn’t we bring Rafelis?” Lorial asks.
“Who’s Rafelis?” Rominy whispers to Elowyn.
“Part of Pera’s elite warrior band. He’s a tracker with life magic.”
“I believe his binding partner was laboring to birth their first elfling,” Grandmera says. “Now, you need to calm yourself before you speak to Cerian, or you will send him spiraling.”
Lorial takes a deep breath and nods. “I’ll be back. Will you check on Nestraya? Whatever that dream was, it pulled me out of the heartlanding, but Nestraya was still tired, so I told her to go back to sleep.”
“And you believe she listened?”
Rominy’s gaze swings to Elowyn’s mother standing in the open doorway.
“Wishful thinking, I suppose, my love,” Lorial says.
“When were you planning to inform me you had a vision involving our elfling?”
Lorial sighs. “It was not a vision. It was a voice—Viala’s voice—speaking garbled Lothlesian. Douse me later, my love. I need to wake Cerian and Arisanna. And don’t you dare use your life magic to search for Tharios from here.”
“I will find our elfling, Lorial. No matter the cost.”
Lorial looks torn. Then he shakes his head. “Let me try first, Nestraya. Please.”
She doesn’t look happy, but she nods, and Lorial presses a kiss to her temple before hurrying through the door.
“Mera,” Elowyn whispers. She sounds terrified, and her heart is racing.
“Oh, my darling. It’s all right.” Her mother hurries to her side.
Rominy loosens his grip so Elowyn can bury her face in her mother’s shoulder as he looks on helplessly.
This is not at all how he saw his day going.
One moment, they’re laughing and looking at the stars, and the next, someone is knocking on the door of their honeymoon suite in Feressa. It’s enough to send Cerian’s head spinning to match the spinning room when he sits up.
Too soon for that.
The knocking repeats. “Cerian, it’s Father. I need Arisanna’s help with something.”
Father? He’s up and about? What in the world does he need Arisanna’s help with desperately enough to wake them?
Cerian glances down at her where she burrows under the covers, panic on her face. They need to order some nightgowns or something for her. A dressing gown, at least.
“Give us a moment!” Cerian calls to his father.
He swings his feet to the floor and blinks a few times, willing the dizziness to pass. He should wait another minute or two, but he stumbles for Arisanna’s gown and tosses it to her before finding his trousers and shirt. She’s still buried under the covers.
“I’ll talk to him while you dress.”
She nods, and he carefully lets himself through the door.
Father is pacing. That can’t be good.
“Cerian. Forgive me for that, but Tharios hasn’t returned, and I’m concerned. I need to sweep the terrain with my air magic, but I don’t wish to alarm any humans. I was hoping Arisanna’s presence might reassure people.”
For a moment, Cerian stares at Father. “What time is it?”
“I’m not certain. Eight, perhaps.”
Father is far more concerned than he should be over the fact that Tharios stayed out all night and hasn’t returned this early in the day.
“What aren’t you telling me?”
Father studies him before sighing and scratching his brow. “I believe Viala may have attempted to communicate with me, but her words were garbled.”
A knot forms in Cerian’s stomach. “You think they’re in trouble?”
“I don’t know, but I would prefer to take the cautious route, just in case.”
“I’m coming, too. Will Arisanna be in danger?”
“With the strongest plant wielder in Lostariel standing at her side?” A faint smile flits across Father’s face.
“Good point.”
“Rominy offered, but he can’t leave Elowyn. I wouldn’t ask if I had a better option.”
Cerian scratches his brow and nods. “She’s just...getting dressed. I promised to buy her a new wardrobe, but I seem not to have done that. Though I’m not sure why I’m telling you.”
Father chuckles. “I’ll let your grandmother help you tackle that one when we return to Lostariel.”
At least Cerian’s rambling helped relieve the worry in Father’s eyes for a few moments.
“I’ll check on her and meet you downstairs,” Cerian offers.
“Thanks, Cer. We’ll find him. I’m sure he’s fine.” Father squeezes Cerian’s shoulder before heading down the stairs, and Cerian watches him go.
Who is Father trying to convince?
“I’m not sure if I did it right or not.” Viala digs Tharios’s trousers out of the dirt and shakes them off.
He glances her way. “I suppose we won’t know unless someone shows up. I’ve stopped the bleeding, but as soon as I let up on my magic, it starts again. I can’t make sense of it.”
“Unicorn magic,” Viala says as she sets his trousers nearby.
“Active or passive magic? Tell me everything you know.”
“I’m no healer, Tharios. Or unicorn expert.”
He sighs. Of course he knows that. “At least tell me what you’re thinking.”
She rests her hands on his chilled back, and her touch relieves some of the drain on his life magic.
“I’ve heard the bleeding from a unicorn wound is difficult to staunch. It’s why our handlers wear protective magic around wild unicorns. But I know nothing else.”
Tharios glances over his shoulder at Stardust, whose attention is still fixed on Tharios.
“Kiss me,” Tharios whispers. “Maybe that will convince Stardust the danger has passed in case this is something she’s doing on purpose and not an effect of being impaled by a unicorn.”
Viala offers him a simple kiss before pulling away, and Tharios chuckles. “I know you can do better than that, faerie.”
“My magic, Tharios. I don’t know...”
Right. Her magic is free. And he has no intention of binding it now.
“Just think about something disgusting while you kiss me.”
“You mean all this time, we could have been trysting with my magic free if only I’d focused on something disgusting?”
“I detect a note of sarcasm in your voice, my love.”
“Odd that you heard just a note. I thought I composed an entire symphony of sarcasm for you.”
“Are you going to kiss me or not, faerie? I’m a little busy trying to keep this elf alive.”
“If I must.”
Before he can respond, she frames his face and kisses him slowly, and it takes every ounce of focus he can muster to keep his life magic on the wounded elf and not on her.
At least whatever she’s thinking about seems to be keeping her magic contained.
For the most part.
When pebbles and twigs on the forest floor start to float, she yanks away from him and laughs sheepishly as everything crashes back to the ground.
It could have been worse.
Tharios hazards a glance at Stardust, who nibbles disdainfully at the grass before casting a look of long-suffering his way. Blaming Tharios for not bringing fresh oats to fill her belly, probably. At least the kiss seems to have reassured the ridiculous beast.
Tharios turns his attention back to the bleeding.
“It’s better, but it’s still not stopping.
I think the wound itself is infected with Stardust’s magic.
Can you try sending another message? I don’t know how long I can keep him alive like this.
” Something occurs to Tharios, and he looks up at Viala.
“Try Mother this time. Perhaps the Lothlesi magic in her blood will help.”
“Brilliant.” Viala presses her lips to his again before standing, and his eyes linger on her in his shirt.
“What were you thinking about when you kissed me?” he asks.
“Kissing an old, wrinkly elf. It didn’t work very well, though. I fear I’ll always want you, even when your jowls hang to your shoulders and other parts of you dangle to your knees.”
He frowns. “Thanks for that image.”
“You’re quite welcome, elf prince.”
As she works on sending a message to his mother, he attempts to put that thought from his head.