There are worse things than finding out your husband is attracted to you.
Far worse things.
Even if you barely know him.
She ventures a glance at his face. His brows are scrunched in that familiar way, but it’s not a glare. More of a question. A smidge of embarrassment.
He’s probably mortified.
He doesn’t need to be. His honesty is refreshing.
“Well, I am your wife,” she says softly. And she shrugs.
He looks confused now. What did he expect? That she’d be horrified to find out her broody elven prince finds her attractive?
And she was worried she might be too human for him.
“My ears are round,” she whispers.
“What?” Now he really looks confused.
“I thought you might be repulsed by my humanness.”
He slowly shakes his head.
“I like your ears,” she says, since they’re apparently confessing such things.
He jumps to his feet, rushing to put some distance between them. “Whistling wind, Arisanna! Do you want me to light us both on fire?”
She tries not to smile. His ears. He’s got a thing about his ears. That’s fascinating.
She shouldn’t tease him when he’s clearly struggling with his magic, though. It probably doesn’t help that she’s only partially clothed.
They wished for other things last night. Would it work for this?
There’s only one way to find out.
“I wish for my shimmeron gown,” she whispers.
In one of the more unsettling incidents of her life, her clothes transform in an instant.
How accommodating.
She looks back at Cerian. “Better?”
His gaze travels over her before he glances away. “Define better.”
Heat creeps up her cheeks. Stars above, he’s full of cryptic confessions tonight.
His fire flares brighter, and she frowns. He really is struggling to contain his magic.
She rises to her feet, but she doesn’t approach him. “How can I help?”
He just shakes his head.
Water. Would that help? Perhaps their moonlit lake?
“I wish the train would stop,” she says.
