Just Knock
Episode 48
Ceriangazesdownthecorridor before glancing at his parents’ chamber door. Where would Father be right now?
What time is it even? He didn’t bother to check while he and Arisanna were laughing and talking and feeding each other sweet bread.
Outside the window, light casts short, dappled shadows west. It must be mid-morning.
Father’s probably in his study.
Cerian wanders down the corridor away from the royal family’s private wing, and his stomach knots at the thought of approaching Father about any of this.
But what choice does he have unless he wants to accidentally burn Arisanna again or catch her with a rogue fireball?
It’s to keep her safe. That’s all.
When he reaches his father’s study, he pauses outside the door. He can do this. Just open the door and...what? Tell Father his fire magic is out of control?
The thought fills him with so much dread his feet itch to run. To carry him away from this conversation. From this day.
But he owes Arisanna better than that.
If she can leave behind everything, he can open this door and speak with his father.
Just...knock. He just needs to lift his hand and knock.
Before he can convince his arm to do anything useful, the door swings open, and Father’s First among warriors almost runs into Cerian.
“Whistling wind, Cerian. I didn’t expect you to be standing there.”
Cerian opens his mouth, but no words come.
“Bring your princess by my office sometime, all right?” Corivos says as he claps Cerian on the shoulder. “I’d love to practice my Nunian with a native speaker.”
Cerian nods as Corivos takes off down the corridor. At the last minute, Father’s First turns and calls out, “I almost forgot. Happy birthday. And that’s the last I’ll say of it. Have a good day in the woods.”
A smile tugs at Cerian’s lips as Corivos continues on his way.
Corivos knows him too well.
“Did you need something, Cerian?” Father asks from within his study, and the knot in Cerian’s stomach returns as he forces his feet into the room, closing the door behind him. Father looks up from his desk and smiles. “I wasn’t sure if we’d see you much today or not. Cook said she delivered your sweet bread to your chamber this morning.”
This was a mistake. Cerian fumbles for the door again.
“Before you give in to the urge to flee, why don’t you tell me why you’re here?” Father says. Cerian stills with his hand on the door, and Father rises from his chair and wanders to the front of his desk, leaning back against the oak surface. “You can talk to me, my elfling. About anything. I hope you know that.”
As Cerian’s heart pounds, thoughts of Arisanna surface. She must feel his pulse racing in her own ears. The thought both mortifies and comforts him.
“How’s your fire magic?” Father eyes him steadily, and Cerian swallows the lump in his throat, finally finding his voice.
“I keep...losing...”
Father nods. “That’s normal. I had hoped to have this discussion with you ages ago, as we did with Elowyn, but every time I attempted to bring it up, you ran.”
Cerian would deny it, but it’s probably true.
“That said, I was concerned that knowing ahead of time would scare you away from Arisanna,” Father continues.
