“The clicking is gone. Excellent. And the pain?”
“As if it never existed in my right knee. My left is still a tad sore, but I assume that will improve?”
“Yes. In a day or two. I also recommend you abandon your pipe. Your lungs and your children will thank you.”
Father nods. “My wife will thank me as well.”
Rominy smiles at that. Mother never did like Father’s pipe.
“When the queen is ready to experience elven healing magic, I would be happy to examine her as well,” Tharios says. “Though I believe she’s younger than you?”
“She is. And I’ll wear her down with time. I want her to live a long life as well.”
“Of course,” Tharios says. “We all want that for the ones we love most. If you feel up to it, I have a proposition for you that requires you to venture to the third floor.”
“Ah. So that’s why my daughter told you about my rheumatism.”
“Indeed. I want you to step up with your right leg as you climb the stairs. Can you manage that?”
“I feel as though I could climb a mountain,” Father says with a laugh.
“I’d invite you as well, Rominy, but I doubt the heartbinding will permit you to travel so far from Elowyn’s side.”
“What are you looking at on the third floor?” Rominy asks.
“Cerian has transformed their suite into something that may help foster peaceful relations between our peoples. When Elowyn is well, I’ll show you both.”
Rominy glances at Elowyn where she slumbers beside him. “She’ll like that.”
“I’d also like to discuss the possibility of setting up a human healing facility with your people, Tharios,” Father says. “I’m not the only one who would benefit from your magic. I would offer a lot in trade to give my people better health.”
Their voices drift off as they slip into the hallway, and Rominy reaches for his book again. It falls open to what appears to be a title page with something written in the corner—a rune with barely legible Nunian script under it. He peers closer at the Nunian word and smiles.
It’s not a word. It’s a name.
Elowyn.
This must be her book. It’s a beautiful rune, soft and swirling, with a single strong line amid the swirls.
It’s perfect.
With his finger, he traces the rune over and over until he remembers every line. Every curve.
If only he could practice writing it.
He searches the room until he spots a pen on a table, but there’s no paper to go with it. After hesitating for the briefest moment, he rolls up his sleeve and carefully copies the rune onto the skin of his inner wrist. It’s not perfect, but it’s close.
He stares down at it, and a smile tugs at his lips. Perhaps he should have an inkist tattoo the rune there permanently. Unless Tharios can do it with his life magic.
Mother would probably die from shock.
After the ink dries, he buttons his sleeve and sets the pen aside.
“Rominy?” Elowyn stirs beside him, and he reaches for her hand.
“I’m here, love.”
“Is Tharios here?” She yawns and stretches, rubbing at her eyes.
