“Elvish is a difficult language to master, and your progress is admirable. Perhaps conversing with a native speaker will help in time, should you desire to continue learning, which I hope you do.”
A native speaker? Is one of the elves planning to stay in Nunia after the wedding? Rominy’s brow furrows at the king’s words, but he doesn’t ask for clarification. “Of course, Your Majesty. I’m always eager to learn new things. Please, follow me.”
“One moment.” King Lorial turns and lifts a hand to close the barrier again after a small group of guards and, from the looks of it, high-ranking elves follow their king from the woodland.
Then he gestures Rominy forward, and Rominy nudges his horse south toward Feressa.
Cerianwatchesthehumanprince with veiled curiosity. Should they be offended that the human king sent his son alone to welcome them? Of course, King Gerault is aged byhuman standards. Perhaps such a journey would have been too much for the elderly man.
The human prince’s Elvish was abhorrent. Cerian barely understood what he was trying to convey, but at least the prince made an effort. Hopefully, Princess Arisanna will have a better grasp of Elvish than her brother. If not, most of Cerian’s family can speak the human language passably until she learns.
“The princess didn’t come to the barrier,” Cerian whispers to Tharios beside him. “What do you think that signifies?”
“Perhaps she’s busy preparing for her binding ceremony tomorrow.”
A stoniness spreads across Cerian’s face, and Tharios laughs.
“Perhaps.” Cerian nudges Lightshorn ahead to escape his brother’s teasing that’s soon to follow.
It’s a short ride to the nearby human city, and a faint scent of something heavy with silt fills Cerian’s lungs. That must be from the human locomotive that Tharios goes on and on about. Hopefully, they won’t be expected to ride such a thing.
Elowyn would be thrilled.
Unlit lamps line the cobblestone streets of the small city, and Cerian eyes them with disdain. Tharios has regaled them with stories of the human gas lamps as well.
Advances in technology like these and the firearms adorning the backs of the prince’s soldiers were what made Nunia a threat to Lostariel in the first place. For centuries, elven magic was enough to ensure peace between their peoples. Lostariel didn’t attack them because what threat were humans to the elves? And the humans didn’t attack the elves because...well, that would have been mad.
Now, though, their technological advancements rival elven magic in ways that leave the two kingdoms at an uneasy stalemate.
But this binding of the heartbound is supposed to create a lasting peace between Nunia and Lostariel. Cerian can only hope it succeeds, or this sacrifice will be for nothing.
As they approach the city square, Prince Rominy slows. At least the human prince seems to be a decent person so far. Hopefully, his sister is as well since all too soon Cerian will be living with her.
Soon, the human prince dismounts beside a graying, wrinkled couple, and next to them stands a young woman with glossy brown hair and rosy cheeks. The gleam of the sun on her tresses brings out a reddish tint unlike anything Cerian’s ever seen. She’s actually...quite lovely.
Though Cerian will never confess that thought to Tharios.
Her smile is warm, if hesitant, and as Father dismounts, she glances between Cerian and his brother, probably trying to decide which of them is her intended.
Tharios lifts Mother from her horse before Cerian can tear his gaze from the princess. Tharios was supposed to let him do that.
Cerian catches his brother’s eye, and Tharios winks. Did he see Cerian staring at the princess? That’s the last thing Cerian needs right now.
With a huff, Cerian swings from his horse and moves closer to his parents.
“Welcome back to Nunia,” King Gerault says in a broken version of Elvish before switching to his own language. “I trust your journey has been a pleasant one?”
“Indeed,” Father says. “Your son was quite welcoming.”
Cerian glances at the princess again, and she hesitantly meets his gaze.
“Your family has grown, Lorial,” King Gerault says.
Cerian’s brows knit as he looks at Elowyn. What is that supposed to mean? The king sounded surprised. She shrugs before turning her gaze back to the human prince.She seems to find him fascinating, which is just as well for her sake.
“Yes,” Father says slowly in response. “My daughter, Elowyn, and my younger son, Cerian.”
“It is a pleasure to meet you both,” the human queen says, though whether she truly means it or is simply being polite is unclear.
