“But you need me,” she mumbles.
“I’ll be fine. You need your strength for the return journey.” He tugs the covers over her, and she wants to argue, but her eyelids grow too heavy, and she gives in to the need for sleep instead.
AfterleavingArisannatorest, Cerian makes his way across the corridor to Tharios’s door. Hopefully, he’s awake.
Whistling wind. Hopefully, he’s clothed. He and Viala often disappear into their chamber in the evenings, and until now, Cerian has tried not to think about it much.
He’s not naïve, though. He can venture a pretty good guess at what they do in there those nights.
Steeling himself, Cerian lifts his hand and raps on the door.
No one answers at first, and Cerian pounds again.
“I’m coming!” Tharios calls from within, and relief fills Cerian.
The door opens, and a shirtless Tharios looks at him in surprise before grinning. “You were gone a long time. Take your princess to your treehouse?” Then his brows wrinkle, and his smile fades. “Something’s wrong.”
“It’s Elowyn. I...she...”
“Elowyn?”
Cerian nods as he tries to find his words.
Tharios pulls Cerian into his chamber and closes the door. As Cerian collects his thoughts, Viala wanders from the water closet in her dressing gown, concern on her face. “What’s going on?”
Tharios puts his hands on Cerian’s shoulders and looks into his eyes. “Take a deep breath, and tell me about Elowyn, all right? Is she here?”
Cerian shakes his head. “She’s in Nunia. I-I took Arisanna to my treehouse, and I had a dream or a vision or...or something. About Rominy. He was standing on a train platform, and he looked terrified. Then I heard Elowyn calling my name, saying to tell Tharios. She sounded like she was in pain.”
It really wasn’t the heartlanding. The magic didn’t stop him from talking about it.
Tharios glances at Viala before turning back to Cerian.
“You dreamed about Elowyn being hurt?”
“Yes. No. I mean...it wasn’t a dream.”
“Are you certain?”
Cerian fumbles in his pocket for the telegram and shoves it at Tharios, who quickly reads it. Of course he can read Nunian.
“What does it say?” Viala asks.
“It’s from Rominy. It says Elowyn is sick. I don’t understand. Where did you get this?”
“Feressa. We went to Feressa. And it was waiting there. It’s a telegram. They send messages—”
“Over wires. I’ve heard about it. We need such things in Lostariel.” Tharios stares at the paper for a moment before kicking into action. He hurries to throw on a shirt. “I need a horse.”
“I already alerted the stables.”
“Good. Did you tell Father and Mother?”
“I came straight to you.”
“You did great, Cer. Thank you. Show this to Father, and I’ll take care of everything else.”
Cerian takes the telegram back and turns for the door before Tharios grabs his arm. “I’m sorry I doubted you. Grandfather had visions, too.”
