Just before it shuts behind them, Queen Nestraya’s whispered voice carries to Arisanna’s ears.
“He’s definitely your son.”
Thariosresiststheurgeto tease Cerian as he and Arisanna kiss in the corner. Then they leave, and Tharios smiles. It’sgood to see Cerian happy. And Arisanna would probably be mortified if she knew anyone saw them.
Let them have their fun. There’s nothing they can do for Elowyn tonight, anyway.
He reaches out with his life magic to check on Mother again, pushing past Father’s overwhelming air magic to sense her. She’d probably give him a dressing down if she realized he was doing it, but it’s worth the risk. Her life magic still isn’t at its full strength. At least not the way he remembers it. It’s been so long since he felt the full breadth and depth of her magic as an elfling, but it seems stunted now in a way it shouldn’t.
She needs to rest.
When threads of her life magic brush against his, he claws back his magic and curses under his breath.
Why is she using her magic now? There’s no way she didn’t notice that.
He has two choices. Ignore her and hope she doesn’t realize what he was doing.
Or face her displeasure head-on.
Or a third option. Run. Perhaps Cerian has it right.
“Tharios.”
Too late to run.
He looks up and attempts to hide the guilt filling him. “Yes, Mother?”
Whistling wind. She’s definitely not happy. That much is obvious from the darkness in her eyes beneath her lowered brows.
She’s going to stare at him until he confesses, isn’t she?
“I’m uncertain what’s going on here,” Father says, “but remember you love our elfling, my queen.”
“We have two more without this one,” she says.
“I’m pretty sure we love them all.”
“I’ll let you two sort this out.” Tharios tries to slip past Mother, but she grabs his arm.
“Not so fast.”
That seemed unlikely to work. Especially since he can’t actually leave while Viala sits in the corner, falling asleep over the Elvish book she’s been struggling to read for the past week. Her tenacity warms his heart, but at this particular moment, he wishes she had stayed in their hotel room.
“I’m a healer, Mother. Surely you’re not surprised.”
“I am fine.” She speaks slowly, as if she can will it to be true if she says it with enough feeling.
“You wish to discuss this here? In front of everyone?”
“There is nothing to discuss. I’m fine.”
“Then tell Father instead of me. Tell him your life magic is at full strength.”
After a moment, she looks away. She can’t lie to Father, and she knows it.
She might tell Father she’s fine, and she is. She’s healthy and strong.
But her magic isn’t. Not yet. Maybe not ever. No one has ever done what she did for twenty-three years. There are no books to read or cases to study. No pattern of recovery to expect. They’re in uncharted waters.
