“Just eat while I consider our options, my elfling. You’ll feel better.”
Cerian takes a bite as Father looks around the room.
“This is an interesting suite.”
Cerian takes another bite so he doesn’t have to respond.
“Gerault said something about a honeymoon suite, and if my Nunian isn’t betraying me, I believe the honeymoon refers to—”
“Stop. I know what it means.”
Father smiles, but before he can respond, there’s a light knock on the door. Arisanna pokes her head inside, followed by Mother, who immediately starts laughing. “It is a jungle in here. I thought you were exaggerating.”
“Clearly not,” Cerian mumbles. His eyes follow Arisanna almost magnetically as she hurries toward him, and the overwhelming relief that fills him at seeing her again draws out his smile.
“I missed you,” she whispers.
“Cerian, you’re doing it again.” Father leans back against the table, shaking his head and smiling, and Cerian groans.
“It’s not on purpose.”
“So...no. We haven’t made much progress,” Father says as he tugs Mother closer. “I don’t suppose First Nestraya has any brilliant ideas about how to get rid of all these vines?”
“Have I been demoted, my king?” Mother asks, and Cerian tries to focus on his apple rather than on the fact that his parents are flirting right there in front of Arisanna.
“You will always be my First. My queen. My Nestraya.”
Yes. They’re definitely flirting. Fates save him.
“Maybe we should let them have the suite,” Arisanna whispers in his ear, much to his shock.
“Perhaps if Cerian and Arisanna weren’t here, that would solve the problem,” Mother says as she takes in the room again.
“Or create a new set of problems.” Father grins, and Cerian tosses his apple core toward the hearth.
Right past Father’s head.
“Sorry,” Cerian calls out.
“Did that apology sound sincere to you, my love?” Father asks, and laughter bursts from Mother as Cerian rolls his eyes.
“Perhaps we should leave the vines for now,” Mother eventually says. “If he’s anything like his father, he’ll just do it again tomorrow.”
Cerian looks at the ceiling. “Running. The urge is filling me again.”
As his parents laugh, Arisanna buries her face in his shoulder, her own shoulders shaking, and without thinking, he wraps his arms around her, but she doesn’t pull away or stiffen.
“In any case, it’s growing late, and we’re making no progress here,” Father says. “We can try again tomorrow. Leave that sign on your door for now, and hope no one from the hotel sees this before we can figure out how to clean it up, all right?”
With a sigh, Cerian nods, and his parents head for the door. Their hands are linked. They’ve always been affectionate, but Mother’s health was at the forefront of Father’s mind in the past.
That clearly is no longer the case.
It’s comforting somehow, though—seeing them love each other so completely.
Comforting and mortifying.
Soon, they’re gone, and it’s just Cerian and Arisanna again.
