“Just a little more—”
“You promised. She’s stable now. You need to rest. You won’t be able to help anyone if you hold nothing back.”
With a sigh, he straightens and turns toward Viala. His face is ashen and sunken, and Arisanna bites back a gasp when Viala quickly unfastens Tharios’s shirt and presses her arms to his chest.
Arisanna looks away as the pieces of the puzzle slide into place. Life magic. It must drain the life from Tharios when he uses it. No wonder he looked ill last night. And flesh contact must replenish it the way eating plants restores Cerian’s magic.
“Go lie down,” Cerian tells Tharios. “I’ll watch over them while you recover.”
Weakly, Tharios nods. “Thanks, Cer. Mother and Father are sleeping next door if you need them.” As Viala leads him from the room, he offers Arisanna a faint smile. “Don’t forget to come see me later.”
“After you recover,” Viala says sternly, and he chuckles.
Then they’re gone, and Arisanna turns back toward the bed, where Cerian studies his sister.
“Do you want your boots?” she asks.
He lifts his eyes to hers, and the walls that went up when Tharios joined them crumble again. He looks lost and worried, but a warmth that steals her breath crosses the space between them, and with only the slightest hesitation, she sets down the boots and runs into his arms instead.
He’ll need his boots eventually, but right now, he needs her more. His heat has tempered, leaving a soft warmth in its place as he clings to her in a way he hasn’t before. Something between them is different now. Every touch is more intimate. More comfortable.
“It’s hard seeing her like this,” he whispers.
“I know. But she’s strong. And she’s in the heartlanding with Rominy now. Imagine her there, all right?”
He nods against Arisanna’s hair. “Where do you think they go?”
“Well, we often end up in the forest and the dark. Places we need your magic. Perhaps their heartlanding has water.”
“She’d love that.”
“Then picture her smiling and happy near water.”
Cerian’s embrace tightens around her. “I love you.”
“And I love you, my elven fire wielder.”
Eventually, Cerian lets her go, and Arisanna gazes down at Rominy again. He probably doesn’t care where their heartlanding takes them as long as he’s with Elowyn. His everything.
And as long as no one dies. Cerian probably assumes Elowyn is the one who met an untimely end in their heartlanding, but Arisanna would wager it was Rominy who sacrificed himself to protect the woman he loves.
The thought warms Arisanna’s heart. Hopefully, they’re finding rest together this time.
Wherever they are.
Rominygazesthroughthesmall window facing their garden as rain drizzles in the fading light.
The sun rose over their sailboat this morning. Then it traveled across the sky as it does every day. And now it’s setting again.
And they’re still here.
He tries not to let the setting sun unnerve him. Or the fact that he hasn’t woken yet.
“Rominy,” Elowyn says behind him, and he sighs as he turns.
“I know. We’re still here, which means we’re probably not dead, and Tharios must be letting me sleep to keep my heart steady. And time is different in the heartlanding.”
She’s told him those things at least five times as the day has grown long.
