She gazes up at him as he straightens. Is that a human expression? His heart is anything but slow at the moment. He was genuinely concerned about her.
“I see. Well, I’m here, and I’m fine. Shall we keep going?”
“Keep going? Into the dark, misty labyrinth?” He gawks at her.
“Yes...” She draws the word out, and Rominy sputters in response.
“We can barely see!” he finally manages.
“That’s not a problem. Watch.” Holding out her palm, she draws from the inner fire that’s always burning deepwithin her and creates an orb of soft, yellow light in her hand.
Rominy almost jumps into the hedge. “How did you do that?”
Elowyn frowns. “Magic, of course.”
“M-magic. Of course. Magic. You can do magic?”
“I’m an elf, Rominy. The daughter of Lorial and Nestraya. Of course I can do magic.”
Surely he knew all elves carry a spark of magic within them.
“I knew elves could do magic...I just...didn’t think about you doing magic. What kind of magic is that?”
“It’s a type of fire magic, one of my affinities.”
“You’re a fire wielder,” he breathes.
“Yes, like my father. My affinity for water magic comes from my mother. It’s an unusual combination. Usually, elves with dual affinities don’t have opposing giftings. I guess I’m special—at least that’s what Mother says.”
She glances up at him as the shifting light from her magic casts swirling shadows across his face. His mouth hangs slightly open, and his brown eyes stare back at her in shock.
“Are you all right?” she asks.
“I honestly don’t know.”
Laughter bursts from her at his forthrightness, and her response is enough to break him free of his daze. A smile quirks his lips in a lopsided grin that makes her heart flutter.
“So you want to keep going?” As he gazes down the misty path where it travels to the left, his heart races again.
He truly is frightened.
“We don’t have to,” she says softly.
She’d offer to go without him, but would the heartlanding even let them part ways? The entire purpose of its existence is to draw them together, after all.
“None of this is real, right?” His voice comes out hoarse, and he clears his throat.
“It’s just a magical construct shared between our minds. Like a hallucination or a dream.”
“Uh-huh. A dream.” He mumbles something that sounds like the word “nightmare,” and Elowyn sucks in her cheeks to refrain from smiling. “I wish I had a rifle,” he mutters.
“You won’t need one. You have me.” She smiles sweetly up at him, and he eyes the orb of light in her hand.
“Just...don’t disappear again, all right?”
“How about this?” She offers her free hand to him, and after the slightest hesitation, he takes it. It’s not the first time they’ve linked hands, but doing it by choice rather than as part of a ceremony feels more intimate.
Of course, he did take her hand when he led her to his chamber after the wedding feast.
