She says it lightly, and though Cerian’s concerned expression doesn’t change, his family chuckles at her words.
“Here. This will help.” Tharios lays a hand on her shoulder, and the most marvelous sensation flows through her, unknotting every inch of tension and pain, leaving only weariness in its wake.
Now she can barely keep her eyes open, and without meaning to, she rests her head against Cerian’s shoulder.
“Let’s get you to bed, my youngling,” Queen Miravel says, and Arisanna is too tired to argue.
Cerian carries her through the door, and though she tries to take everything in, her eyelids are too heavy to get a good look at the home of his childhood.
“Where do I put her?” he asks at the end of a long corridor with doors in every direction and a window overlooking a river. She knows its name, but she’s too tired to remember right now.
Hushed voices rise around her, and she tries to focus on what they’re saying in Elvish.
Where will she sleep? That’s what they’re discussing.
“Cerian,” she murmurs, and he looks at her with furrowed brows. And as if the longing is knit into her core, she whispers, “Don’t leave me.”
What did she just say?
He looks as surprised as she feels.
Then Queen Nestraya is there, stronger than ever as a softness fills her eyes. “You feel it already, don’t you, my youngling? Don’t fight it.”
“The heartbinding?” Cerian looks more than a little horrified as he meets his mother’s eyes.
Arisanna would be horrified herself if she wasn’t so focused on staying awake.
But she doesn’t want to leave him. That much is as clear to her as the knowledge that the sky is blue or the grass is green.
Does he feel it, too?
“Set her down,” Queen Miravel says. “We’ll get her to bed.”
When he lets go of her, she clutches at him.
“He’ll be back soon,” his mother whispers, and Arisanna relaxes enough to let them guide her into a large chamber with a strange bed of what looks like...moss? Maybe she’s hallucinating in her exhaustion.
Then they’re stripping her down, much to her mortification, but she’s too tired to fuss about it.
“Is this all she has?” Cerian’s grandmother asks, and someone murmurs something about Elowyn and human clothing, and soon, the softest satin slips over her head and arms.
“That will do for tonight,” Viala says. Is Arisanna wearing something of Viala’s?
Then the three women lead her to the strange bed and help her under the satin covers. It’s soft, but not like the beds in Nunia.
Her last thought before her eyelids grow too heavy to lift is of Cerian.
And how much she misses him already.
Cerianpacesthecorridoras the women hover over Arisanna behind closed doors.
“You look antsy, little brother,” Tharios says with a grin, and Cerian glares at him.
“Why don’t you check in with Corivos,” Father says to Tharios, shoving him down the corridor, and Tharios lobs a smirk over his shoulder before making himself scarce.
It’s unlikely Father’s First among warriors has much to report since they were only gone for a few days, but at least that will give Cerian a reprieve from his brother’s teasing.
Once Tharios is gone, Father takes Cerian’s shoulders and looks into his eyes. “Tell me what you’re thinking, my elfling.”
