AknotfillsArisanna’sstomach as they all force themselves to eat the food Chef sends. Elowyn offers her berries to Cerian, and the roiling in Arisanna’s stomach only increases when she realizes why.
His plant magic.
She quickly pushes her own berry preserves his way, and he doesn’t refuse.
Which makes her feel even sicker.
She’s strong. She’s always been strong. She’ll continue to be strong.
Cerian needs her.
“You should wear my elven clothes,” Elowyn murmurs to Arisanna. She looks like she can barely keep her eyes open. “So your skirt doesn’t get in the way.”
“Thanks, El.” Cerian funnels the remaining berries into his mouth, and Rominy makes his way to Elowyn’s trunk.
As he offers Arisanna the elven tunic and trousers, he gazes seriously into her eyes. “Be careful. I mean it. Whatever Cerian says, you do it without hesitating.”
She nods. “I’m pretty good at doing what I’m told.”
“I’m not.”
They all turn toward Elowyn, who seems to have reached that state of delirium that accompanies exhaustion.
“I think I’d better make her nap,” Rominy whispers. Then he wraps his arms around Arisanna.
“You be careful, too,” she says.
“I am the definition of careful.”
Arisanna laughs at that as he lets her go.
“Take care of my sister,” Cerian says quietly to Rominy, which is a far cry from the exchange they shared earlier. Stars above.
“Always. Take care of mine.”
Cerian nods, and as he and Arisanna make their way back to their honeymoon suite, he stares quietly ahead. The look in his eyes is reminiscent of his expression in the arena with his mother when he started fighting back.
It both terrifies Arisanna and makes her heart beat faster.
As she changes into trousers for the second time in her life, Cerian gathers their meager belongings, including the vial on the nightstand and what’s left of his apples, and shoves them in his satchel.
When he looks up at her, he does a double-take.
“Did I put it on right?” Arisanna smooths the split skirt. It looks right.
“You look like a Westaria now,” he whispers. “Just one more thing.” With deft fingers, he plaits her hair, tying it off with a vine. “There. Now you’re ready to ride.”
Hopefully, they’re doing the right thing.
CeriangripsArisanna’shandas they cross the street to the stables.
Father’s elite warriors are gone. Every one of them. He only brought a few to Feressa, and they’ve stayed quietly out of the way, but they’re nowhere to be seen now.
The thought goads Cerian, but he pushes it away.
Rominy’s guard unit remains. Cerian isn’t leaving them unprotected. Not completely.
“Your Highnesses,” the stable master says as they approach. “It’s been a busy morning. How may I help you?”
