His gaze briefly connects with hers before he turns away.
So the taciturn Cerian has returned. She bites back a sigh as he searches for somewhere to set the tray.
There’s not even a table in here. Or a desk. Cerian doesn’t strike her as the sort of person who would spend much time at a desk.
A table would be useful, though.
Unless they’re going to eat breakfast in bed. Her pulse quickens at the thought.
Images of him without his shirt flash across her mind. Did the room suddenly grow warmer?
Briefly, Cerian eyes the bed as well, and Arisanna’s throat runs dry. But he shoves the tray toward her instead, and she barely catches it in time.
At least it’s not still on fire.
Reaching out with his magic, Cerian coaxes the wall to extend into the room, forming a cozy little nook with benches and a table in the corner near his bookcase, where all his figurines live.
“Perfect,” she says, and he glances back at her.
He’s got the beginnings of a look about him—the look he gets when the bear comes out. Working his plant magic on an empty stomach must be hard on his magic reserves.
“Let’s feed you, all right?” She keeps her voice soft, and he exhales slowly before nodding.
After setting the tray on the table, Arisanna lowers herself to one of the benches, and Cerian sits across from her. A bowl of what looks like walnuts sits beside a teapot, and Arisanna reaches for it at the same time as Cerian. Their hands brush, and shivers race along her arm.
Not that she wasn’t sitting on his lap in the heartlanding. Everything feels more awkward after they wake up, though.
At least his hand isn’t scorching. His fire magic must be quieter in the real world at the moment.
They both pull back their hands, and Cerian’s jaw clenches.
“Sorry,” she whispers. “I was just trying to help.”
For a moment, Cerian works his jaw as he stares at her. Then he picks up the bowl of walnuts, and, rather than shoveling them into his mouth, he sets the bowl in front of her.
Does he want her to feed him?
When she doesn’t move, a shadow crosses his face, and he reaches for the bowl, but she grabs it from him.
“This is my job.” She holds the bowl out of reach. “And I don’t want anyone to think your human princess is shirking.”
The corner of his mouth twitches, but he says nothing. Then his stomach growls.
Right. She needs to feed the bear.
“Forgive me,” he mutters. “I’m—”
“Starving?” She smiles and holds out a walnut. When he opens his mouth, she drops it on his tongue, though she can barely reach him across the table. “Maybe I should sit beside you.”
The bench is small, but there should be room for both of them.
Without speaking, he scoots over, and she slips around to his side. It’s cozy on the bench with him, but he doesn’t complain.
“Here. Have another walnut.” She angles herself to offer him the nut, and her bare knee presses against his leg.
Stars above. She’s still wearing her borrowed nightgown.
Not that he hasn’t seen much more of her legs than this already.
