Arisanna looks at the woman in horror. “I...no. I’m sorry—”
“Hush, youngling. It’s this one who’s been giving me trouble since the day he learned to walk.”
Arisanna’s brows knit as she looks from the woman to Cerian.
“Cook loves me,” Cerian whispers. “I remind her of my parents.”
“I heard that, Master Cerian. This isn’t love. This is me getting ready to smack you with a spoon.”
Stars above. What is happening? Is Cerian...smiling?
“You’ve never smacked me with the spoon, Cook,” he says.
“There’s a first time for everything. Now don’t hover in the doorway.” Cook shakes her head and winks at Arisanna. “The newly bound. They always miss breakfast.”
Arisanna’s face flames. She doesn’t dare meet Cerian’s gaze as he leads her to a table with a couple of stools.
“Ah, ah, ah. Let me see those hands, Master Cerian. I hear you’ve been sparring.”
With a smirk Arisanna can’t wrap her mind around, Cerian holds out his hands.
“Filthy. You wash up right now. You, too, youngling. I saw you hanging all over him.”
Arisanna just stares. What kind of place is this?
“The sink is this way,” Cerian whispers. His face looks flushed to match her own warm cheeks.
Wordlessly, she follows him to the stone sink with its wooden pipes. There are no knobs here, either. He tugs his sleeves up, exposing the smooth muscles of his forearms, and Arisanna glances away.
Stars above, he’s nice to look at. She may have swooned if he’d shown up in Feressa looking like...like this.
The sound of running water catches her ear, and she snaps her eyes back to the sink. “How did you do that?”
As he scrubs his hands on a bar of soap, he glances her way. “Do what?”
“Turn on the water. I couldn’t figure out how to run the water in your bathtub this morning.”
His hands still beneath the faucet as he stares at her. Then steam rises from his palms, and she gasps.
“Cerian! You’ll burn yourself!”
“Whistling wind.” He shakes his hands off, spraying water on both of them.
The steam isn’t coming from the water, though.
It’s coming from him.
The water stops flowing on its own, and she glances from the faucet to his hands to his face in shock. “I am so confused now.”
“Asam I,” he mumbles as he flexes his hands.
“What?”
He’s not forthcoming, but that’s nothing new.
“Why don’t you wash up,” he says. “Just pull the cord. The water wielder on duty at Windhaven’s central water supply will send water.”
Oh. Well. That’s simple enough.
