Or is she attempting to meet him halfway?
She starts to pull it back, but he draws her inner wrist to his lips before letting her go, and she looks at him with wide eyes and pink cheeks.
Then he recalls the images in those books about human customs Elowyn was always shoving his way. Not that she read them. She just enjoyed looking at the images.
Images like the one of a man kissing the back of a woman’s hand. Fates save him. That would have been a much less intimate touch than what he just did.
When he gazes at his family, they all glance away, but he sees the look Mother and Father exchange.
“He is your son,” Mother says under her breath, and Father chuckles.
“He is both of yours,” Grandmera says. “Now off with you before some poor maid discovers a jungle in the hotel and sends us packing.”
Cerian glances at Arisanna’s flushed face before doing as Grandmera says, and Father follows as Cerian closes the door to Elowyn’s room and heads to the stairs.
“How is your fire magic?” Father asks in quiet Elvish. “Aside from the rug.”
The urge to turn and run the other way fills Cerian, but he forces himself to continue forward.
“I’m...managing.”
Father just nods, much to Cerian’s relief, and they climb the stairs in silence. When Cerian turns to the door of the honeymoon suite, Father chuckles. “They’ve got you quite isolated up here.”
“I don’t mind.”
“I’m sure you don’t.” Father studies the placard hanging from the doorknob before chuckling again. “Let’s see what you did.”
Reluctantly, Cerian pushes the door open, and Father follows him inside. Father takes in the vines still dangling from the walls and littering the floor before his eyes alight on the bathtub and the bed, and Cerian forces his feet not to carry him far away from this moment.
“I’m impressed. Aside from your vines, I see no plant life within this room. You grew it all from dead wood?”
“I seem to have done that. Yes.”
“Before I go to all the trouble of helping you clean this up, are you planning to do it again?”
“I wasn’t planning to do it at all. My plant magic...got a little carried away.”
“Just a little.” Father smiles, and Cerian groans.
“Please tell me this is normal.”
“For a Westaria? Very normal. Though it’s usually air magic that gets...eager. I’m not sure a Westaria has ever had plant magic as powerful as yours. I truly am impressed, Cerian.”
“So was Arisanna. Which...you probably didn’t need to know.”
Laughter bursts from Father at that. “Struggling not to think about her?”
“I believe you know the answer to that.”
“I do, indeed. Well, we have a few options. I can help you clean this up now, and we can burn it all.”
“Or?”
“Or we can wait in case you want to play with your vines more before we leave.”
Cerian scowls at Father before he can stop himself.
“There’s my Cerian.” Father grins.
