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They left for the rose gardens of Il Arunedh when summer had started to bloom, the days not yet exhaustingly hot but warm enough for them to leave their cloaks in their packs. Maerad tilted her face to the sun as they rode, thrilling in it warming her face and heating her dark hair tumbling down her back – no small thing. She felt a marked contrast to their earlier travels. They could ride in peace now and she basked in every small thing they encountered: a field of purple pennyroyal blooming, children playing in the villages as they passed through. Their journey had been slow and leisurely as they followed the Imlan to the west road. The river ambled in its banks beside them, sunlight sparkling off the waters, blinding and glittering, until they left it behind for South Annar proper.
They had just reached the edge of Lanorial as night was falling, the last orange dregs of the sky fading to cloudy black. This village was very small, Maerad saw as she looked around, but lights were burning cheerily in the houses, which showed signs of recent repair. Cadvan dismounted while she was taking it in, and she followed suit.
“There's an inn here, I think,” Cadvan said, eyeing a sign swinging from above the doorway of one of the bigger buildings, and he turned and grinned at her. “We won't break our streak yet! It seems we may yet get to Il Arunedh without camping, after all.”
Maerad laughed. “Good! I never want to sleep on the ground again,” she said, pushing her hair out of her face. They lead Darsor and Keru to the stables, and once they were settled, Cadvan tucked Maerad's arm into his, stepping across the threshold together. She squeezed his hand and when he kissed her head in response, Maerad felt a pleasant warmth glow in her.
The inside of the inn was cheery and welcoming, despite the admittedly cramped tap room. The wooden mantel of the small fireplace was carved with a creeping rose vine. Maerad sat by it even though the hearth was empty.
“We've only one room left, but you're welcome to it, if it'll suit for you and your wife,” the innkeeper was saying to Cadvan, and Maerad looked over at him, blushing. She remembered the first time that had happened, when they were leaving Innail a year ago – but they had been in disguise then, unlike now. Cadvan glanced over at her, his eyes sparkling, and Maerad realized that she didn't mind the innkeeper's assumption.
The room itself was small, too, with one double bed lodged in the corner, a washbasin in its stand on the other side of the room, alongside a table with two chairs squeezed into it. Another fireplace was wedged into the other corner, as intricately decorated as the one in the tap room, and this one had been lit, washing the room in a wavering amber glow. Despite the size of the room, it still felt more cozy than cramped; the furniture was clearly made with care and beautifully decorated, and when Maerad ran a hand over the bedspread, it was soft and inviting. She sat on the bed while Cadvan took the lone chair to take off his boots.
She'd never shared a bed with Cadvan; always they'd had separate rooms, separate beds, or separate bedrolls, or, like the last time they'd been mistaken for husband and wife, he'd slept on the couch. But there would be precious little choice tonight, unless one of them wanted to sleep on the floor.
Maerad studied Cadvan as he was bent over. His hair had fallen in front of his face, and the firelight cast soft shadows across his features. She felt a wave of affection for him, one that seemed to soften her breath in her chest, even as her blood started to shimmer through her veins. She wanted – she wanted to kiss him very badly. And why not? They'd shared many in the past few months. There was no need for reserve now between them.
But here, Maerad was all too aware of the bed she was sitting upon, the one they would have to share unless someone took the floor. Cadvan finished taking off his boots and glanced back up at her, stilling when he realized how intently she was watching him.
“It's tight quarters, I know,” he said. “But there's enough room for me down here, I think. It'll keep me from getting too accustomed to mattresses – who knows when I'll have to rough it again.” He smiled, and a small one bloomed on Maerad's own face in return, but she slowly shook her head.
“It's big enough for two,” Maerad said softly, and Cadvan's gaze flicked back to hers.
“Yes. It is,” he eventually said. He stood and stepped towards her, stilling before her, and Maerad looked up at his face before reaching up to caress it. Her fingers traced the scar that wrapped around his cheekbone. The firelight caught in his eyes, illuminating them, and he gently ran a hand through her hair. Maerad felt her breath fall softly out of her, relaxing into his touch before she pulled his face down to hers, leaning up to meet his lips. It was a relief to have him close, to know he was here – as if she had found her center again after walking around off-balance. Yet it was not, in this moment, quite relief enough.
Maerad kissed him more urgently, but then Cadvan gently pulled away, searching her face. “I want to make sure that this is what you want,” he said, his voice soft, and Maerad held his gaze before nodding.
“Yes – do you?” she said, and as she asked, she felt like she'd stepped onto the edge of a hidden precipice. What if he should say no?
Cadvan's face cracked into a smile, warm and amazed in equal parts, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Yes, my dear – I do. I do, Maerad,” he said, and she smiled brightly then, reaching for him once more as he pressed her close.