Immediately, a table appears before them with two plates of sizzling meat, and an edge of frustration tickles his psyche. She’s just trying to help. It was kind of her. How is she supposed to know? It’s not as if he clarified.
She shrinks, pulling away but not letting go of his hand. “I did something wrong. You have a...look about you.”
Whistling wind. Is he that transparent? And is she frightened by him? What sort of elf does she think he is?
He’s about to snap something at her when his stomach rumbles again.
Food. He needs to eat before he says something he’ll regret.
“I wish for nuts, berries, leafy greens, and apple slices,” he whispers. “Potatoes and carrots.”
They all appear on the table beside the steaks.
“Oh. That makes sense,” Arisanna says quietly. “Plants.”
“Yes. Thank you for trying, though,” he manages.
She nods, and he glances at their joined hands.
“I suppose you need your hand back,” she says.
The startling desire to hold her beside him forever wars with the irritation building within him, and he reaches for an apple slice to give his mouth something to do besides talk. Nothing good would come out if he tried communicating at the moment.
He should have warned her. Why didn’t he warn her? Father says Cerian and Tharios are just like Mother with their plant magic, though Tharios usually becomes petulant and whiny when his magic runs low.
No one calls him a bear.
Arisanna probably wishes she’d binded with Tharios. Isn’t that what she wanted?
When she tugs her hand away, it just confirms his thoughts.
Then another apple slice appears in front of him as Arisanna holds it out like a peace offering. “I don’t know what’s going on inside your head, but maybe this will help?”
Without speaking, he takes it and barely chews before swallowing. It does help. A little.
Shekeeps feeding him, handing him more apple slices and carrots at first. When she picks up the bowl of wild blueberries, she looks hesitantly up at him.
Then she lifts one directly to his lips. His heart speeds up as he opens his mouth, and she drops the plump berry onto his tongue.
Whistling wind. She’s feeding him. Herself. With her own hand.
“Sit?” she says softly, and he lowers himself to the chair, maintaining contact with her eyes as she leans back on the edge of the table in front of him.
She offers him another berry, and he parts his lips for her.
“I suppose you can probably feed yourself,” she whispers, but she soon places another blueberry on his tongue, and he doesn’t even consider asking her to stop.
One after another, she feeds him from her hand until the bowl is nearly empty.
“Are you hungry?” he asks, and a barely perceptible nod is her only response. Tentatively, he reaches for one of the few remaining berries and holds it up to her lips. He sets it on her tongue, still gazing into her eyes as his heart pounds. Is it him? Is it her? Does it matter?
“How are you feeling?” she asks softly.
“Much better. Thanks to you.”
Thanks to you? What possessed him to say that? He sounds idiotic.
If Tharios were here, he’d be wearing a smirk wider than his face right now.
