Tearing his eyes away from her, he approaches the wall again. They already moved everything away from both sides, and he reaches out with his plant magic. An opening forms in the tree-grown wall as the wood slinks back onitself, and once the hole is large enough to pass through, Cerian calls forth wooden hinges and a simple door.
“I love watching you do magic.”
When Cerian glances over his shoulder, Arisanna stands nearby, a wide smile gracing her beautiful face.
“Go ahead and test it,” he says.
“First, though, are you all right? We didn’t bring food for me to shove down your throat.”
Thoughts of her feeding him in the arena and in the heartlanding leave him wishing they had brought something, but he hasn’t worked enough magic to truly need it, especially since they just ate.
“I’m fine. This was just a small bit of magic.”
“Still impressive.” She offers him another smile before stepping toward the door and pushing it open. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”
Will she actually use it at night? Come find him in the dark when she’s afraid? And what will he do if she does?
His palms heat, and as he shakes them off, a sinking feeling clutches at his stomach. Every time his fire magic has escaped his control, he’s been thinking of her.
And not just thinking about her. He’s been thinking of being closer to her. Wanting to be closer to her.
Whistling wind. Is that why his parents keep asking how his fire magic is doing? That’s horrifying.
“What’s wrong?” Arisanna asks.
He opens his mouth to deny anything is wrong, but the words lodge in his throat. As if the magic won’t let him lie.
“Cerian?”
“Forgive me. I’m just lost in thought,” he manages.
She seems content with that answer. Thank the fates.
He needs to figure out how to keep his fire magic from bursting forth every time he thinks about being near her.
Because not thinking about her is quickly growing impossible.
“Beverageswithairbubbles,”Elowyn says as Rominy follows her back onto their private railcar after the train stopped for an hour in the small town of Cheston. “Who knew? That was delightful!”
Rominy doesn’t even try to hold back a smile at her chatter. She’s been singing the praises of Nunian food and drink for the past half hour.
At least she’s adjusting well. And she loves ginger beer. An elf after his own heart.
“Am I talking too much?” she asks.
“I like it when you talk.”
“Well, that’s a relief.”
They settle into their comfy armchairs, and Rominy thrums his fingers on the armrest as the train gets underway again. They’ve already played every game in the railcar twice, and Elowyn beat him more often than not.
He didn’t mind, though. Watching how excited every small and large victory, both hers and his, made her was the best part of his entire day.
“What’s that?” Elowyn points at something stowed in the corner.
Who packed that? He sure didn’t. He didn’t notice it earlier, either. The dark case blended into the shadows.
“It’s my guitar,” he says.
