Ceriantossesandturnshalf the night before tugging a blanket off the too-soft bed and curling up on the rug in front of the hearth instead. He wakes to Tharios staring down at him.
“Did no one explain to you which piece of furniture is the bed?”
Cerian glares at his brother.
Tharios just grins. “Or were you practicing for tonight when your princess relegates you to the floor?”
Cerian groans and pulls the blanket over his head.
“Come on, little brother. Your presence is required at the meeting to discuss the ceremony, and you need to wash up first. You’re binding with a princess today, and you smell like a horse.”
“Funny.”
Tharios crosses his arms. “You actually do smell like a horse.”
“Fine. I’m up. Now leave me alone.” Cerian balls up the blanket and throws it on the bed.
Tharios nods. “I’ll be back in thirty minutes to collect you. At least try to make an effort today.”
After his brother is gone, Cerian grumbles to himself as he approaches the water closet and eyes the showerenclosure in the corner. It’s identical to the one in Elowyn’s chamber.
Rain inside. He shakes his head. As he steps into the warm stream, he just lets the water wash over him for a few minutes.
This is actually kind of pleasant. Not that he’ll give either of his siblings the satisfaction of hearing him admit it. It’s a lot easier to wash his long hair this way, too.
Maybe he’ll ask Tharios to put one of these showers in his own set of rooms. For the human princess, of course. She’d probably appreciate the comforts she’s used to at home.
Ugh. He groans and leans his hand against the wall as water streams down his face. All his life, he’s known this day was coming. It always seemed like some far-off thing—a problem for his future self.
Well, the future is here.
And his future self is no more eager to bind with a human than his past self was.
But he agreed. At least he can thank Father for giving him the opportunity to say no.
Not that it was much of a choice. This is best for Lostariel. Best for Mother and for his entire family.
He was born to sustain Princess Arisanna’s heart through the heartbinding and bring peace in the process. It’s his purpose in life.
With a sigh, he turns off the water and dresses in the only set of clothes he brought aside from his formal attire for the ceremony and the clothing he was wearing earlier. Tharios was right. They smell like a horse.
He combs out his long, dark hair, wishing once again that he had air magic like Father and Tharios. Or Elowyn’s water magic to simply remove the dampness. Then he wouldn’t have to arrive at this meeting with wet hair.
Of course, his magic is far more useful in the woods. The ability to manipulate fire and plants is a rare magicalcombination among elves, though plant magic by itself is prolific enough.
Most elves only have one type of magic. Dual magic wielders are rare outside nobility and royalty. Those with three affinities are practically unheard of. Mother is the only elf Cerian has ever met who can wield three kinds of magic. And Tharios, of course. He inherited his third affinity from Mother.
Viala can outdo them all, though. She just thinks it, and it happens. Air, soil, water, plants, fire, healing—she can master them all.
The Lothlesi are a formidable race. Or the mountain fae, as some people call them.
There’s a knock at the door, and Tharios pokes his head in the room again. “Excellent progress. Would you like me to dry your hair?”
Cerian scowls at his reflection in the mirror and nearly refuses before sighing and nodding. He stands still as Tharios forces a steady stream of warm air over his hair, and soon the dampness is gone.
“Thank you,” he mumbles.
Tharios pats his shoulder and nods. “Let’s go.”
