He catches her watching him and glances away, his cheeks pink, but she lifts onto her toes to reach his ear. “I’llhelp you learn, my elven prince. You don’t need to be embarrassed. Not with me.”
Before she can step away, he turns his head to rest his forehead against hers, and she freezes.
Relax. She needs to relax. It’s just Tharios and Viala.
“Thank you,” Cerian says softly.
“Shall we enter this jungle of yours now?” Tharios asks, and Cerian pulls away.
“At least I can grow vines from dead wood. Unlike some of us.”
“Yes, it seems your skills have improved recently.” Tharios grins as he glances at Arisanna, and Cerian rolls his eyes and pushes the door open.
Tharios steps inside and stops as his smile fades. “It is a jungle in here.” His voice is breathless, and Viala gasps beside him.
“This is beautiful,” she whispers.
Arisanna follows their gaze and almost loses her balance. It’s even more overgrown than when they left this morning.
“I don’t understand,” she whispers to Cerian.
“It seems to keep growing even when I’m not here now,” he says. “I don’t know why.”
Tharios fingers a nearby vine, closing his eyes as if to sense the magic for himself.
Then his brows lift. “Cerian, feel this.”
Cerian touches the vine as well and frowns. “These plants have roots.”
“I don’t believe your jungle is contained within this room anymore,” Tharios says. “You seem to have grown your vines into the walls.”
Horror fills Cerian’s face, and he pulls his hand back as fear tinges his eyes. It’s reminiscent of how he looked in the arena with his mother when he was holding back his plant magic.
Is he frightened of his magic?
“I don’t know, Cer. This may be beyond my skills to undo.” Tharios isn’t teasing now as he steps farther into the room.
“But why would you want to?” Viala asks. “It’s beautiful.”
“I’m not certain the hotel owner would agree,” Cerian mumbles.
But Arisanna looks around thoughtfully. “I wonder how much use this chamber gets as a honeymoon suite.”
“What are you thinking?” Tharios asks.
“My father wants to open up trade and travel between our kingdoms. And the chef here knows the foods elves like. If this hotel offered a room designed specifically to cater to elves—”
“That’s brilliant,” Tharios breathes.
“Even as a honeymoon suite, this decor is appealing,” Arisanna continues as she fingers a silky crimson bloom. Rather than cut flowers or rose petals, the living blooms make the room even more romantic. It’s immersive, like entering another world.
“But how would humans maintain the magic?” Cerian asks. “I don’t know how long it will remain like this after we’re gone.”
“We could send an elf with plant magic to maintain the room at regular intervals,” Tharios says. “If it helps foster peace and acceptance between our peoples, Father would not spare the expense.”
“Neither would my father,” Arisanna says.
Viala studies the room more closely, pushing aside vines to examine the paintings and letting her eyes linger on the bathtub as Arisanna attempts not to think about all the time she and Cerian have spent in that tub. Stars above.
