Luminous

122 - Savior (2/3)

The nail hit the glass with a jarring chime that rent the air and woke Alanna with a start. Used to anticipating the church bell and the cock's crow, she was mired in confusion until she remembered where she was.

She whipped around to her husband. Mirram didn't appear to have heard, grudgingly enjoying the deepest sleep of his life, thanks to a gobletful of sleeping draught. She'd wake him when it came time to board the wagon and depart for home, otherwise he'd shred whatever remained of his legs trying to help out.

Once she'd guiltily wrapped Mirram with the blanket she'd hogged, Alanna flipped over and reached for the half-spent candle-clock by the bed. Its circle of light fell upon an empty mattress where her daughter should have been.

Her ever-fearful mother's heart skipped a beat. She swung the light around to the garderobe. No rustle of fabric, no sound of flowing water came from the thin wooden door. No Meya hanging halfway out the window, retching her guts down a bucket. Her heart sank as her worst fears came true.

Despite her best efforts at consolation, Meya didn't seem convinced all would be well. Poor lass must've run, hidden herself away somewhere, hoping Lady Crosset would be forced to leave without them. Oh, goodly Freda. Imagine the flame and fury when Mirram finally found her.

Alanna sprang to her feet, brandishing the candle as she whirled, casting its light on every nook and corner. No Meya. No Meya. Not there. Nor there.

"Meya?" she called, unsure, then cried against the silence, "Meya! Meya, where are you, lass?"

Rustling from the bed. She scurried to the garderobe, yanked the door open and poked her head inside. She knew but she must be sure.

"What is it?" Mirram called. Alanna wheeled around, chest heaving, eyes wide. She managed one word—

"Meya—!"

A blink, then his deep brown eyes darted to Meya's empty mattress. He edged forth, raring to rise.

"She with the Hadrians?"

Alanna paused only to leave the candle on the windowsill then pelted for the door. Down the hallway she flew, crashed her fist on the Hadrians' door until it opened, spilled gibberish onto the half-awake Lady Agnes. No, Meya wasn't inside. No, no-one had heard or seen her after Alanna. Lady Arinel mentioned the church as her potential refuge. She clattered down the stairs. Innkeeper was just coming through his door. One eyeful of her face shoved against his as she swooped down on the counter, and he knew her demands.

"Saw her through my window just as I tucked in for second sleep. Left in a carriage—that gray one from yesterday."

Gray.

Surprise. Confusion. Disbelief. Crippling fear. The maelstrom of terror one word could bring. She faintly heard thundering feet all clattering to a halt on the stairs over her pounding pulse in her ears. She bulled through the double doors as a girl's voice cried out Mirram's name. The courtyard was empty, desolate blue as the waking sky.

"MEYA—!"

She screamed into the still air, bile searing like fire in her throat. As if Freda heard her, a carriage rolled up the gravel, gray as ash over crumbling firewood. She watched its door with bated breath. She couldn't see a shadow behind the glass in the meager light. Please be Meya. Please be Meya. But the figure that emerged was a stranger. No flaming red-gold hair. No blazing green eyes. No tattered dress. No freckled cheeks and wry smile. Just a reed-thin young man prim and gray as the wagon that bore him over.

He ascended the few steps that separated them as behind him the whip lugged out ornate chests and set them on the ground, some with clinking thuds of gold coins, some with muffled sighs of costly fabric. Alanna fixed her gaze on the road ahead and prayed he'd sweep past her, headed for his unknown lord still resting inside, but he paused before her. His blue eyes settled upon someone nearby.