But before she can finish, he drops to the ground, pulling her with him. She lands in a heap on his crisscrossed legs, but she barely has time to process the fact that she’s sitting in his lap when he buries her hands in the snow.
Still, he says nothing.
“Cerian?”
His lips press into a thin line. Clearly, he’s not ready to talk about what just happened.
It wasn’t his fault, though. Surely he knows that. She grabbed him. She should have known better.
Unsure what to say or do, Arisanna just sits on his lap with her hands in the snow while he lobs occasional fireballs into the sky.
“Cerian,” she eventually tries again. “It was an accident. Please don’t blame yourself.”
“I should have been more careful.” His voice is barely audible, but at least he’s talking. “I can’t...I can’t touch you, Arisanna. Not...not like that.”
Her stomach tightens at his words. “Ever?”
“I don’t know.”
“How are you doing now? Should I move?”
He launches another fireball into the air. “I’m managing. How are your hands?”
“They’ll be fine. They barely hurt.”
His nostrils flare as he stares off into the snowy landscape.
So much for building a snowman together. The broody elf is back. At least he’s not shutting her out.
Well, not completely, anyway. With a sigh, she lays her head on his shoulder. “Is this all right?”
“Yes.”
“You held my hand for hours in the heartlanding last night. Why is it suddenly different now?”
He doesn’t answer at first, and she doesn’t prod him. She just leans against him while the icy cold of the snow freezes her hands. But she leaves them where they are. He’d probably clench his jaw if she tried to move them.
“Every day I spend with you,” he begins slowly, pausing before continuing, “feels like much longer than a day.”
“As if we’ve known each other forever,” she whispers, and he nods.
“I think it’s the heartbinding.”
She lifts her head to look into his eyes. “Do you think it’s real? Or would we hate each other without the heartbinding?”
He gazes into her eyes with an intensity that makes her stomach flip. “If I ever hated you, it’s because I didn’t know you,” he says. “Now that I know you...I...”
She doesn’t hurry him. If she pushed him, would he clam up again? She has the rest of her life to hear what he has to say. However long it takes.
“Now that I know you,” he starts again, “I can’t imagine hating you.”
It takes all her effort not to smile. From anyone but Cerian, that would merit a half-hearted thanks punctuated with a question mark.
But from this elven prince of hers, he may as well have confessed his undying love.
Sort of.
In any case, he’s trying. Though, clearly, romance isn’t his forte.
