“I definitely wouldn’t make a very good human.” She leans down to kiss him, and he threads his fingers through her glossy golden hair. Out of habit, his magic reaches for her flame in case her own magic takes on a mind of its own.
“Will you extinguish it for another day?” she whispers against him. “Please? Just a day?”
He sighs. Perhaps time without it will give her a much-needed break from this burden.
“Yes,” he says softly near her ear.
“And tomorrow?”
He lies back and looks up at her. She’s breathtaking. All her people are beautiful, of course. But she outshines them all.
At least in his eyes.
“Can we take it one day at a time?” he asks.
A soft smile graces her face, and she nods. “Thank you for not saying no.”
Like he did last night, he wraps his magic around hers, cutting it off from the world.
And once again, the simple act makes his body long for her touch.
Now is not the time, though. He needs to get up. Check on Elowyn and Rominy as well as Mother, who is still not at her full strength, though she hides it well from everyone but him.
“You’re running down your ever-present list of things you need to do, aren’t you?” Viala asks as she leans over him and trails a finger along his brow.
“I may be doing that. I didn’t mean to sleep for so long. Mother needs to rest.”
“Now, Tharios, remember you love me, all right, my elf prince?”
He frowns as she caresses his other brow. “That sounds ominous.”
“It is midmorning. No one has come for you, and you needed your sleep. I couldn’t bear to wake you.”
His eyes swing back to the window, where the sun hangs higher than he realized, and he curses under his breath as he rolls to the side of the bed and swings his feet to the floor.
“Even the Crown Prince of Lostariel needs sleep,” Viala says, and Tharios collects his clothes from the heap at the foot of the bed, where they ended up last night.
She’s right. Of course she’s right.
Even if he doesn’t like it.
“Thank you,” he says. “I probably needed it.”
Where is his shirt? He searches the floor and the chairs before looking up at the sound of Viala’s laughter.
Right. She stole it.
Not that he’s complaining. Not at all.
“Looking for this?” She tugs it over her head and tosses it to him, and he easily catches it.
“You are cruel, faerie.” He slides his arms in the sleeves as he attempts to think of anything but her, sitting there, begging him without words to join her back on the bed.
“Cruel was not the word you used last night, elf prince.”
“Well, it wasn’t the only one, at any rate. Do you wish to come with me or stay here?”
“I think I’ll take a shower. Join you later?”
