Is that why she’s so terrified of the forest? She may be trying to hide her fear, but the trembling of her hand on his arm is difficult to overlook.
Whistling wind. He shouldn’t have pushed her to leave the train.
Not that he tried to push her. He sat when she didn’t want to leave. Even offered his hand when she asked for it, which was odd and wonderful in a terrifying way.
He enjoys holding her hand. No one else gets to hold her hand. Just him. Because she’s his now.
What in the Wildthorne Woods is happening to him?
“It’s not the darkness itself,” she whispers. “More the things lurking in it.”
Her life is so bright. Gas lamps everywhere you turn. This must feel so foreign to her.
“I wish it was full daylight,” he murmurs, and to his surprise, the heartlanding grants his request as they both squint in the sun. He looks down at her again, and a smile spreads on his lips of its own accord. “How’s that?”
Her own smile grows, and something inside him tightens at the sight. Has she ever smiled like that for him?
“Much better.” She lets go of his arm, though she leaves her fingers twined with his. “Lead the way.”
For hours, they traipse through the woods, exploring this secret world of theirs. He tells her the Elvish names of all the trees and points out the animal tracks they pass. Whether she cares or not, she acts as though it’s all interesting to her.
The sky gradually darkens, and Cerian gazes up at the storm clouds rolling in. “I think it’s going to rain soon.”
Almost imperceptibly, Arisanna moves closer to him. She’s still clutching his hand. “Can we find the train in time?”
It’s doubtful. They’ve wandered at least a mile from the lake. He doesn’t tell her that, though.
“We don’t need it.”
She watches with a puzzled expression as he takes in their surroundings. To their right lies a flat area beside a large cedar tree. That should do just fine.
Reaching out with his plant magic, he senses the thick, deep roots beneath the soil and beckons them to grow for him. As they erupt from the ground, Arisanna gasps and presses herself against his side. For a moment, he almost loses control of his magic, but he’s the son of Nestraya Thariosi Westaria, the most powerful plant wielder in all of Lostariel.
This is simple.
The root grows and shapes itself into a small cabin, complete with shuttered windows and a cedar-bough roof.When he’s finished, he glances down at Arisanna. Her eyes are round, and her mouth forms a small “O” as she takes in the cabin. “That was amazing.”
Her words warm something inside him, but he shrugs.
Pangs of hunger gnaw at his belly, as always happens when he works his plant magic a lot at once. He needs to eat something soon to replenish his magic stores. Elowyn tells him he turns into a bear when he needs food, and Arisanna doesn’t need to experience that.
The first raindrop hits his nose, cold on the stiff wind that suddenly picks up, before he can further contemplate food.
“Come on.” He tugs Arisanna toward the cabin, a sudden deluge pouring behind them as they cross the threshold.
As if the heartlanding were chasing them inside.
Cerian tries not to dwell on that thought as he tosses a series of orb lights around the cabin, casting a cozy golden glow within the shuttered space.
“Thank you,” Arisanna whispers beside him, and he nods.
The hunger closes in around him, nipping at the good mood he’s been in since they stepped off the train together, but there’s nothing to eat in here.
Is eating even possible in the heartlanding? Judging by the angry growl of his stomach, it must be.
“Sorry,” he mutters at the mortifying rumble. It’s unlikely Arisanna didn’t notice. “I always get hungry when I use my plant magic.”
“Even in the heartlanding? That’s fascinating. Well, I don’t see any food. Perhaps we can ask for it. I wish for”—she glances up at him—“venison steak.”
