They were together for hours in the heartlanding while she slept in his bed in the real world. And he said nothing.
Why didn’t he at least warn her? Maybe he thought she knew?
Her memories from last night are so fuzzy, though.
“You don’t remember any of this, do you?” he asks.
“I...sort of remember. Vaguely. Some things. Did you...did you carry me?”
Is he blushing? That’s probably a yes. And she begged him not to leave her?
“I’m...sorry.” He sounds as if he’s choking on the words. “I thought...” Abruptly, he pushes to his feet. “I’ll go.”
He thought...he thought what?
“Cerian, wait.”
He stills with his hand on the door as she mulls everything over. He carried her when she was too weak to stand? Gave her his bed when he must have been exhausted, too? Slept in a chair all night because she begged him to stay with her?
When she doesn’t respond, he glances back at her. A trace of vulnerability lines his eyes, and an ache she can barely define squeezes her chest.
“Thank you,” she whispers.
“For what? For leaving? My grandmother set aside a room for you in this wing before we left to collect you. I’ll make sure it’s ready for you tonight.”
She frowns. “That’s not what I—”
But he’s gone, closing the door behind him.
What just happened?
Cerianflexeshisfists.What did he expect? That she’d wake up and...what? Whatever she was feeling last night, she’s clearly not feeling it now.
And why does it matter? He doesn’t want her in his chamber.
And he definitely doesn’t want her in his bed.
Whistling wind. She was feeding him from her hand mere moments ago. And the worst part is he was enjoying it.
“I missed so much of your elfling years, my littlest love.”
Cerian stills at his mother’s voice. When he snaps his head toward the sound, she’s studying him from across the corridor, stronger than ever. It’s astounding.
“You look like you have a few demons to slay, Cerian.” She steps toward him, a hint of teasing in her eyes.
“Mother, you—”
“Look strong? I feel strong. I feel like myself again. Thanks to you.” She draws him into her arms, and something shatters inside him. All his life, he’s watched her survive. Seeing her now, like the Nestraya of legend—strong and powerful and confident—is surreal.
And he clings to her.
“What demons plague you, my littlest love?” she murmurs as he buries his face in her shoulder, but he can’t even begin to respond.
What’s wrong with him? He’s stronger than this.
“Come on,” she says softly. “Let’s go slay these demons together.”
He looks up at her, quickly wiping away the mortifying dampness seeping from his eyes. “What?”
