Rominylooksacrossthetable at Elowyn in the quaint cafe in Wolbourne where they stopped for breakfast before they continue their journey into the mountains. She’s unusually quiet as she studies the menu. She can read quite a bit of Nunian, but some words are a struggle for her. He discovered as much yesterday while they played games on the train.
“Do you need help?” he asks quietly in the best Elvish he can muster. He probably mangled it, but her eyes light up every time he tries speaking her native language.
A soft smile slips across her lips as she lifts her gaze from the menu. “That was well done,” she says slowly so he can pick out the Elvish words.
Her smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes, though, and he frowns. “What’s wrong?” This time, he speaks in Nunian.
She opens her mouth before closing it. Did she try to stretch the truth the way she did in the heartlanding? Is that why the words wouldn’t come?
If only they were alone rather than in the middle of a cafe with guards standing nearby as other patrons glance curiously their way. It’s too bad his Elvish is so atrocious. They could converse privately if he were more fluent.
There’s nothing for it. With a glance around the dining establishment at the people who quickly avert their eyes from their prince and his unexpected elf princess, Rominy moves away from his side of the booth and slides onto the bench beside Elowyn. She scoots over to give him more room as she eyes him curiously.
“What’s wrong?” he whispers this time so only she can hear.
She looks down at the menu before answering. “Cook always makes flaming sweet bread for breakfast on Cerian’s birthday.”
Cerian’s birthday? Is that today? No wonder Elowyn looks sad. She must be homesick.
“I’m sorry,” he says when he can’t think of anything else to say. “I doubt they serve food like that here.”
Letting out a deep breath, Elowyn nods and plasters a smile in place. “It’s all right. He hates his birthday, anyway. Everyone fussing over him.”
“It’s all right to be sad sometimes.”
Elowyn turns her eyes toward Rominy again. Something he can’t define passes between them—a wordless understanding of sorts.
“Thank you,” she whispers in Elvish. That’s one phrase he understands.
He stumbles over the Elvish for “you’re welcome,” but he clearly butchers it if her attempt to stifle her laughter is any indication. “What did I say this time?” he asks, unable to hide his own smile.
“You told me I’m a tree.”
“A tree?” He groans. “You’re definitely not a tree. How do you say, ‘You’re welcome’?”
She demonstrates, and he tries again.
“Better,” she says. Turning back to the menu, she purses her lips in thought. “What are you getting?”
He glances at the menu over her shoulder. “You know what? Let’s go big in honor of Cerian’s birthday. Waffles with strawberries and whipped cream. It’s not flaming sweet bread, which you’ll have to tell me all about, but it’s far sweeter than breakfast has any right to be, and it’s one of my favorites.”
The look of something akin to adoration she sends him steals his breath away, and the startling urge to kiss her again fills him.
“Sounds delightful. Thank you,” she says softly.
He carefully repeats the Elvish words for “you’re welcome,” and as she bursts out laughing, he groans. “A tree. I called you a tree again.” He shakes his head and joins her mirth.
Hopefully, Arisanna is faring better with her Elvish than he is.
Flaming Sweet Bread
Episode 43
Cerianstandsnearhisdoor, awkwardly holding their breakfast tray as Arisanna tries not to laugh. Did he even remember it was his birthday until Cook showed up?
“It’s just another day,” he mumbles.
“A day that starts by lighting your breakfast on fire. That sounds like more than just another day to me.”
