Luminous

66 - A Fit of Pique

"Why are there two mattresses?"

Meya paused with one foot into the tent. Coris nudged her in with a featherlight finger on her forearm, himself trudging to the hay mattress on the right.

"I'm not fit to lie by your side. I never have been." He slumped onto it, head bowed in shame, "That didn't stop me taking advantage of your trust, time and again."

Meya blinked, surprised and miffed, which surprised her again. He was sensible enough to know he'd been scratched off her good books, but he'd also given up on winning her back even before he'd tried.

The all-too-familiar resignation rankled her. Wasn't he in the least bothered to right his wrongs? To improve himself? And Zier was saying he loved her? What a load of dung.

"'Tisn't all your fault." She settled on her mattress with a sigh, shrugging at Coris' raised eyebrow, "I pushed you into it. You're just too noble to say no. We should've taken more time to get to know each other."

Coris pursed his lips in distaste. Meya held his gaze, hoping he'd see her guilt was genuine. At last, he sighed, then a sly smile crept onto his lips,

"Does this mean our short-lived contract is back in effect?"

Meya blinked, then cracked a nasty grin.

"Yeah, go shag Arinel. I'll see if I can ask Zier to give you a merciful death."

Coris chuckled triumphantly. He saw through her act as a fruit of jealousy. Silence fell heavy and uneasy as the erstwhile lovers realized what it meant, what persisted despite it all. Wringing his hands, Coris began again,

"Since it's clear we're both attracted to each other nevertheless, what do you say we experiment with courtship?"

Meya's heart leaped, then pained at the sight of his wavering eyes poring into hers, weathering her scrutiny to convey his sincere emotions. He hadn't surrendered. Still, some kinks must be ironed out first.

"Can we call it a courtship if our parents dun even know about it? And we have no clue if we can ever wed?"

Coris bit his lips, his eyelids weighed down by defeat. Sighing, Meya leaned close,

"D'you see us getting married, having a babe, Coris? What exactly is it that you want out of this?"

"What I want, I can never have," said Coris brusquely. His voice softened as he met her gaze, "What I can have—is you by my side in some shape or form. That I already do, and I'm content."

"Well, I'm not."

Coris froze, eyes wide and fearful. Meya told herself to be steady,

"I can't have you dying on me again, Coris." Her throat constricted as she recalled his lifeless, broken form, "You have your Hadrian duty. Your betrothed. Your poor health. Your prodigal brother—valid reasons why we can't marry, and I can take all those, but this?"

Meya rattled the vial of laudanum she was safeguarding. Coris must still take dwindling amounts of laudanum to ease his withdrawal. Coris relaxed with relief when he understood the true cause of her fury. Meya doubled down to make sure her message got through,

"You could die for anything, anyone. Just not for nothing. I want a man who'll try to live until he really can't, who won't leave me unless he really has to. Who won't go behind me back in every—single—thing!" She punctuated each word with a thump on the mattress, "I told you, no more lies, no more secrets! I need to be able to trust you!"

Meya's flailing arms flopped lifelessly onto her lap, yet her eyes clung to his as she whispered,

"And if that's more than you're willing to promise, then perhaps we're never meant to be. No matter how strong our feelings are."