He snaps his gaze toward her where she sits at the edge of the bed, her mouth twitching as she tries not to smile.
“I’m just saying...” She shrugs.
She likes him shirtless. That’s what she’s saying.
The gleam in her eyes makes him want to crawl back in bed with her and not leave.
“Don’t catch the rug on fire,” she whispers as she glances at his hand.
Whistling wind. He shakes off the flame growing from his palm and leaves the shirt on the table as he strides toward the fireplace to let off some of this heat.
ArisannawatchesCerian’smusclesflex as memories of his body against hers flood her mind.
Does it count as an official consummation of their marriage when it happens in the heartlanding? It sure felt real. Not that she has anything to compare it to.
Her thoughts are interrupted by a knock, and Cerian glances at the door before looking back at her. Tension fills his eyes as his expression shutters, and she sighs softly. He’s growing so free with her. Especially last night. It’s hard watching those walls go back up.
The knock sounds again, followed by Tharios calling, “Are you awake yet, Cer? I need your help.”
Arisanna’s stomach drops as Cerian’s guarded expression morphs into fear. He extinguishes his flames and wrenches open the door. “What’s wrong? Is it Elowyn?”
Tharios eyes his bare chest, and Arisanna’s face heats. Maybe she should have let Cerian put his shirt on.
Cerian barely seems to notice Tharios’s reaction to his state of dress. He’s too tied up in worry.
“Forgive me,” Tharios says. “I didn’t mean to alarm you. Elowyn held steady through the night, but I finally convinced Father to go to bed, and she’s still too hot for me to touch. I need to check her wound, and I was hoping you could—”
“Of course.”
Arisanna hands Cerian his shirt, and he looks at it before glancing down at his bare chest and then up at Tharios, who isn’t even trying not to smile.
Then Tharios turns to Arisanna. “Come talk to me sometime today, all right? Healer’s orders.”
Healer’s orders?
She glances at Cerian, but he looks as confused as she is. He says nothing, though, as he pulls his shirt over his head.
“All right,” she says. “How’s Rominy?”
“He still slumbers, and I’ve been in no hurry to wake him. I imagine he’s happy where he is, and his heart rate is steadier when he’s asleep. Do you have any objections?”
“Me?” She frowns.
“According to elven practice, with Elowyn ill and your parents elsewhere, decisions about Rominy’s well-being while he’s in a magic-induced sleep fall to you, Arisanna,” Tharios says gently.
“Oh. Well. I suppose he’d want whatever is best for Elowyn.”
“Right now, that means keeping his heart rate as steady as possible.”
“Then let him sleep.”
Tharios nods before looking at Cerian again. “Ready?”
“May I join you?” Arisanna asks.
“Of course,” Tharios says. “Just try not to light Cerian on fire. I can smell the smoke on you, little brother.”
“I should light you on fire.” Cerian shoves past Tharios, who winks at Arisanna before following Cerian down the hallway toward Elowyn’s room.
