Luminous

103 - Dead Men Tell Tall Tales

Knowing Meya, the absolute last place Coris wanted her to be in this particular situation was unfortunately where she would most likely be in this particular situation.

Coris's heart raced his feet down the hallway to the ajar front doors. He kicked aside the metal bar that had been their last line of defense from the rioters, and slipped through the gap onto the balcony.

The sun blazed into his eyes from a sky bright, pure blue as turquoise, scorching what remained of the unrest. The perfect weather felt like Freda's cruel touch, illuminating every detail of the carnage for him to see. Dusty scraps of clothing. Blood spatters. White cloths falling over corpses, loose corners fluttering in the breeze as weary guardswomen moved on to the next dead. A weeping widower. A lost, disheveled little boy toddling around, sobbing, searching as other mourners watched, none having the heart to tell him he'd been orphaned. 

Not a strand of red-gold hair was in sight. Then, he heard a faint sound of retching.

Coris skidded down the sandstone steps then swung himself around the corner. A little way away, he found Meya on all fours, her head stuck halfway into the hedge, jolting and heaving as she emptied her belly onto the flagstones. Arinel knelt beside her, holding her hair and smoothing her hand down her back.

Coris prayed the nausea was because of the child in her womb, not the one back there whose blubbering had become screams. After a deep breath, he crept his way towards the girls.

Arinel turned sharply around. Her eyes narrowed to slits, she rose to her feet and stepped up to shield Meya.

"Please, Arinel." Coris mouthed.

Arinel pursed her trembling lips and stood firm, so Coris pleaded with his eyes until at last, her ice melted. Sighing softly, Arinel gave Meya one last glance, then turned back to him with a glare that promised him the wrath of Freda should he so much as pinch Meya. Coris sealed the deal with a nod. Sighing again, Arinel rested her hand on Meya's shoulder to signal her leave, then swept away.

Once Arinel's blonde tresses had disappeared around the corner, Coris dipped the bucket into the nearby well then knelt down in her place. Meya was no longer retching. She leaned her head against the hedge, her eyes closed, panting. Gently, Coris poured water onto the tiles, washing her sick down the gutter. When Meya made to wipe her soiled face with her sleeve, he cut across her with his cupped hand, filled with clean water.

His telltale clamminess must have alerted her. Meya whipped around, eyes wide, then scrambled to her unsteady feet. Coris caught her as she fell against the palace's wall.

"Meya—" He held her arms as she struggled, his heart breaking as her stifled sobs burst through her lips. He wrapped his arms around her, pressed his lips to her thick hair—

"Meya, please. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Her fists pummeled his chest, burning hot as her tears on his neck. He held her, rocked her as he urged her along, "Let me have it. I deserve it. I'm sorry I hit you. It won't happen again."

Still, her heart wasn't in it. Her blows were feeble, reluctant. She loved him so much, she couldn't bear to bruise his delicate skin. Coris was sure that was her actual revenge, however—the guilt winded him like a ram to his stomach.

Meya calmed. Still, she didn't yield to his embrace as she usually would. He sensed cold fury in her pulse beating against his. Sure she wouldn't flee, he released her and turned to peer at the front courtyard. The orphaned boy had fallen silent.

Meya let out a whimper and a loud sniff. Coris spun around, alarmed, but she'd turned away, busy rubbing her renewed tears and snot off her face. He shook his head,