But horror fills him. What in the Wildthorne Woods just happened?
“Are you all right?” she asks, and he swallows as he stares down at her.
“You must be hungry.” He evades her question. “You missed breakfast.”
She studies him, still holding both his hands. Then she nods, apparently deciding to let it go. Thank the fates for that.
“You still smell like berries,” she whispers.
“It will wear off soon.” He’ll probably smell like a horse when it does. He’s still wearing the clothes he wore during their travels yesterday. “Give me a moment to change my clothing, and then we’ll visit the kitchens and find you something to eat.”
She nods, letting go of him, and as he hurries into his chamber, he flexes his hands to cool them. It’s been years since he lost control of his fire magic. Why is he suddenly struggling now?
Arisannawaitspatientlyinthe corridor, taking in the tree-like walls and the rounded doors. Tharios and Viala sleep across the hall. That’s clear. One of these doors must belong to Elowyn. Will she and Rominy visit someday?
Thoughts of Rominy leave her homesick as she wanders toward the window overlooking the river beyond. The Waters of Pendarra. That’s what it’s called.
“Why, good morning, my youngling,” a woman says from down the corridor, and Arisanna turns to find Cerian’s grandmother gliding toward her. “You weren’t at breakfast, but I checked with our cook, and she said she didn’t send food to Cerian’s chamber. And now I find you wandering the corridors alone. Shall I have a word with my grandson about abandoning you on your first morning here?”
Judging by the expression on Queen Miravel’s face, a word with her could be terrifying.
“Cerian will be out soon. He promised to feed me.”
The queen mother’s face softens, and she nods. “Good. And you slept all right? Tharios tells me the beds in Nunia are quite different from what we have here.”
Heat creeps up Arisanna’s neck at the thought of whose bed she slept in last night.
“I slept well. Thank you,” she manages. “I’m sorry I wasn’t very good company last night.”
“Nonsense, my youngling. I don’t know what my son was thinking, putting you through such a long day of travel. We’ll get you rested up and fed and taken care of, all right?”
A smile slips over Arisanna’s face at the woman’s words. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”
“None of that, now.” Queen Miravel flicks Arisanna’s chin and offers a kind smile of her own. “You must call me Grandmera, as Cerian does. We are family now, Arisanna.”
“Grandmera.” Arisanna nods before tilting her head thoughtfully. “Was anyone at breakfast?”
Grandmera laughs. “Lorial joined me. It was a quiet meal.”
The door to Cerian’s chamber opens, and Arisanna barely hides a gasp at the sight of him. He’s dressed like in the heartlanding, though he wears sleeves here. But the perfectly tailored leather shirt stretches across his chest and moves with him like a second skin. What kind of leather fits like that? Her stomach tightens just looking at him.
Her elven prince.
He definitely looks the part now.
“Grandmera,” he says.
“You feed your princess now. Do you hear me, Cerian?”
He nods as he glances at Arisanna.
“Good.”
“Grandmera, the room you prepared for Arisanna—”
“What of it?” the older woman’s brows lower, and Arisanna gulps.
Are they really talking about this here? Now?
