“Will you lie down with me?” His tongue loosens, the walls holding him back crumbling in his exhaustion. “I’mterrified that if I close my eyes, you’ll fade away. That I’ll wake, and you’ll be a dream. A figment of my imagination.”
“I’m real, Cerian. My heart beats within your chest. Do you feel it?”
Closing his eyes, he nods. “I feel it. But...I need you tonight.”
“Then I’ll be here.” She grazes his lips with her own. His upper lip. His lower one. Her breath mingles with his, and their foreheads touch. “We should lie down,” she says breathlessly.
Too tired to move or argue, he lies back, drawing her with him. Can he just sleep here, like this? With the weight of her body on him numbing his fears and making him forget everything but her?
“This wasn’t quite what I meant,” she murmurs, but she doesn’t move. “You’d be more comfortable if you lay down the right way.”
He rolls his head from side to side. “I like this.”
A soft laugh escapes her. “You’re delirious, Cerian. You need to sleep.”
“Can’t...move.”
“Come on. Do you want your trousers on or off?”
His eyes snap open at that.
“Well. That got your attention.” Mirth glimmers on her face as she smiles down at him, and he’s suddenly very cognizant of every part of her that touches him. “You’re getting warmer, my fire wielder. Shall I move?” she asks.
What are they doing? Elowyn is a few doors away possibly dying, and they’re here doing this? What’s wrong with him?
Arisanna’s forehead wrinkles as she gazes down at him. “What is it?”
He closes his eyes again and sighs.
“She’ll be all right, Cerian. I have to believe that. Otherwise, I...”
Her voice trails off, and she buries her face against his neck. Is she crying? She doesn’t seem to be crying. Just...hiding herself in him.
My light will fill your darkness, and when my light wanes, yours will guide me.
The words of the heartbinding fill him. They’re living this part now, aren’t they? Taking turns being strong?
He pushes past his exhaustion to tentatively rub her back. To run his hand over her hair. It’s still braided, but twining his fingers in it earlier didn’t do her any favors.
Without speaking, he unties the leather strap and combs his fingers through her reddish-brown tresses. She seems to like him playing with it, as if it’s soothing to her.
He can do that.
As he fights to stay awake, he strokes her hair and rubs her back. Her heart rate steadies, and he whispers near her ear, “We should sleep.”
But she doesn’t respond.
Mustering the last of his strength, he lifts her fully onto the mattress before crawling into bed beside her and drawing the blankets over them both. In her dreamy state, she nestles against him, and he wraps his arm around her before succumbing to his own exhaustion.
WhenElowynsaidGrandmerawas young, Rominy wasn’t prepared for what that would mean. Two hundred looks much different on an elf than it would on a human.
Which is one of the most bizarre thoughts he’s had today. He must be halfway to losing his mind.
When he lowers himself to the floor outside Elowyn’s room, Grandmera joins him. He only has the vaguestmemories of his own grandmother, and none of them involved her sitting on the floor.
“You remind me of your father, Rominy. I met him when he was your age. It was shortly after my Restoval took the throne.” She speaks carefully, with a strong accent, but her Nunian is better than his Elvish.
“You met my father when he was my age?” Rominy asks.
