“I...I was going to offer you a hug, but now I’m unsure you would want that so publicly,” he whispers to her.
“Just a hug?” A teasing glint joins the weariness in her eyes and draws out her smile, and he relaxes a little.
Rather than answer, he holds out his hand, and she barely hesitates to lean into his chest as he wraps his arms around her and sends her a bit of his warmth. Not that she said she was cold, but she loves to be warm. At least that’s what she told him earlier.
Her contented sigh makes him smile. He must have got it right. Thoughts of all the sighs and whispers of his name he heard on her lips this morning fill him, but his heat isn’t as restless as it has been. Apparently, using it helps.
Father did say it would get easier.
A sudden cry makes them both jump.
Queen Yalisa stands nearby, and Arisanna steps away from Cerian so fast she trips over his foot, and he barely catches her before she falls.
Panicked words about Rominy’s state of health escape the queen so quickly that Cerian can barely translate them.
“He’s fine, Mother,” Arisanna says. Her cheeks are rosy. Is she embarrassed? Of course she’s embarrassed. But it was just a hug.
“The way you were wrapped up together made me think something terrible must have happened! Honestly, Arisanna.”
Everyone is staring at them now. Whistling wind. It was just a hug.
“I’m sorry, Mother. I was coming to find you.”
“We’re all on edge,” King Gerault says quietly. “The important thing is that Rominy and Elowyn are well.”
“Yes,” the queen says. “Of course. Your elven ways will just take time for me to adjust to.”
Arisanna sighs, but it’s not one of the happy little sounds Cerian loves drawing out of her. And she keeps her distance from him, not meeting his eyes.
“Forgive my wife.”
Cerian turns in surprise to Arisanna’s father, who seems to be speaking so only Cerian can hear.
“She likes her world ordered. It helps her cope when her life spirals out of her control.”
Cerian stares at his father-in-law.
“You understand how that feels, don’t you?” the king continues, and Cerian barely nods.
Of course he understands that. Better than most, probably.
“You just keep loving my daughter, and I’ll keep loving my wife, and we’ll all adjust in time, all right?” King Gerault lays a hand on Cerian’s shoulder.
“I’ll do my best.” He pushes the words out, forcing the scowl off his face, or trying, at any rate. How long has he been scowling?
King Gerault claps him on the shoulder before joining the conversation between Arisanna and her mother.
Arisanna still hasn’t looked at Cerian.
Thoughts of their secluded suite fill his head, but he pushes them aside. He won’t run.
Soon, Tharios emerges from Elowyn’s room, and all eyes turn expectantly toward him.
“From what Rominy was able to communicate, I believe Elowyn was indeed very near death, but she is recovering, and her mind is well. The worst is behind us, and I expect her to be her normal self again with time.”
Cerian leans a hand against the wall when his legs wobble beneath him at the mixed terror and relief Tharios’s words create in him.
She’s all right. She’s going to be all right. That’s the important part.
