Luminous

117 - The Temptation of Fate (2/2)

Meya hung her head over the fence, mired in despair as the sleeping horse blew warm air onto her forehead. Crunching footsteps drew near. Wiping her tears, she dropped to the hay-strewn floor and spun to meet her assailant.

"Knew I'd find you with the four-legged kind," grunted the man, a note of pride in his gruff voice. Meya's eyes widened as moonlight lit his familiar, rugged features.

"Dad?"

She jolted and whipped back. The horse had blown a loud snort, startled by her shrill cry. Watching him warily, Meya edged out of head-chomping range.

Dad blinked at the sight of her tear-stained cheeks. He spread his arms, his voice tender.

"Come, lass."

Tears welled in her eyes anew. Meya hesitated for a heartbeat, then leaped into his hug. His sigh flowed down her hair as he petted it.

"How d'you know to come find me?" She blubbered against his chest. Dad shifted his arms to give her a more snug fit.

"D'you always quarrel with your husband in public?"

Meya's cheeks burned as she counted how many windows must have been open in a summer night such as this. Shrinking in shame, she squeaked,

"You heard?"

Dad snorted as if to say, the whole square heard!

"Most of it. Boy filled me in on the rest." He jerked his head towards the main building, then met Meya's bulging eyes. "You may go see Baron Graye and hear his offer—long as I'm goin' with. You're to say nothing about you-know-what. Or show you know what or where it is. You know what he means."

Meya's eyes widened. Her foremost concern wasn't what Coris had told Dad but what he might have left out.

"Dad, he's gunna break out of jail and run from the king to Everglen with you-know-what. Did he tell you that? He's putting us all in danger! You all right with that?"

Dad nodded calmly, his eyes still. Meya snatched his shirt.

"He's throwing all his riches and titles away and he's leaving me behind! What if he never comes back and I'm having his babe and I can't work the fields no more? I dun wanna be a burden. I won't let you work 'til you die. I dun want us to be poor no more, Dad! I can't take it no more—!"

Meya trailed off into a wail, crumbling to pieces in Dad's arms. Dad held and rocked her as she sobbed her heart onto his, his sad, gentle voice whispering into her ear,

"Meya, sooner or later in a man's life, he'll be called to war for a cause larger than he. Most times, we get no say what it'll be. The scores and whims of our lords we die for in droves, whether we agree or not. But your husband—this is the war he chose. For the future of your folk. Of your babe. Who might be born just like you—" He cradled her glistening face, staring deep into her glowing eyes. "And may-beetle, there ain't no war I'd be prouder to die in."

Meya whimpered, a fresh deluge of tears tumbling down her cheeks, scalding her lips. Dad clasped her shoulders.

"If he's crossed swords with this Graye feller before, and he knows how rotten he is, how much damage this you-know-what can do in his hands, a good wife would trust her husband's judgment, and stand by him."

His eyes narrowed, as if he saw unruly old-Meya rearing her head inside her eyes.

"The way your mother's stood by me for all these years. We've always did what's right, haven't we? And if right is ever easy, why, we'd be having the Heights here on land! But you'll know what's right because it dun't weigh on your chest. 'Tis the one easy thing about it."

It's unfair, it's hard, but when is there ever honor in what is easy?

Baroness Sylvia's voice echoed. Meya lowered her eyes as she mulled over it. Dad stepped back, but left a hand on her shoulder.

"Don't worry about us. We'll get by as we always have. Lady Crosset and the Baroness will protect us."

Meya raised her gaze, taking in Dad's sunburned, veined hands and arms, his wrinkled, freckled face, his tangled hair and beard streaked with coarse, frazzled strands of gray. His palm chafed against the silk of her gown. When a decade ago, his thick golden hair shone in the sun bright as Myron's, his constant frown hadn't worn welts into his handsome face. And her heart mourned what he lost to what was right, what was honorable. Why did he care so much for people, dragons, who had little to do with him? Why would he give so much to a land that had paid him so little?

Dad clapped her shoulder then turned to leave. As Meya roused herself to follow, he crumpled—

"DAD!"

She dashed in with a scream. Dad propped himself up on one knee, one hand clutching his right hip, the other waving in annoyance.

"I'm fine!" He barked. "Spent a week holed up in that blasted wagon, now me bones' gone lazy! Help me, will you?"

Meya bore Dad's weight on his bad side, hobbling forth one step at a time. Dad grunted whenever his right leg touched the ground, grumbling how he'd never understand the allure of adventure.

A tear rolled down her cheek. And this, she thought, Coris would never understand.