Luminous

7 - Myron's Request

(A/N: Part 2 turned out too long so I broke it up for next chapter instead and changed this chapter's name. There's a short scene added at the bottom, so don't skip it!)

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The family cheered when Marin and Meya returned with the steaming bread and pie. A cauldron of rich beef stew sat on the table they were cloistered around, and Deke and Maro leapt up to relieve the girls of their trays and complete the meal. 

Myron edged aside, then eagerly patted the space between him and Coris.

"Marin, you sit here. You knew him the shortest!" he commanded, to which she complied.

"Yea, 'tis your first time meeting Meya's true love," sappy-eyed Mistral chirped as she rubbed her cheek on her clasped hands.

Meya, who'd just taken her place at Coris's right, opened her mouth, but Marcus beat her to it with his swooning rendition.

"Shoulda seen when we were in Aynor. He was like—Oh, for seven years I've loved Meya. Oh, I will love Meya forever—and she was like, Aw, Lexi, I'll give you a dozen babies—Uuurgh—"

"OY, SHUT IT!"

The enclave roared with laughter as the furiously blushing Meya chucked her bread bowl across the circle at the retching Marcus.

"You've told this a hundred different ways over the summer!" Marin made an unconvincing attempt to help as she clutched her aching belly.

Meya bared her teeth at Marin, then retrieved her bowl that Maro had caught and passed back to Coris. The young lord patted their knees with a nonchalant smile.

"Fret not, ladies. He's only made sure our laughter will be tenfold louder when he meets his significant other."

"He's still got a point, milord. She's sworn at the age of three never to marry. She's flattened lads twice her size. What in the three lands did you do?" demanded Maro, amid a second surge of laughter and Meya's renewed cries of protest. 

Coris cocked his head, triumphant. 

"I'm afraid I wouldn't survive Farmer Hild if I laid bare my methods here, but I must warn you—Seducing the she-dragon is not for the faint of heart."

Dancing away from Meya's claws, he rolled up his sleeve and proudly displayed his ladylove's favorite punching spot, which sported a bruise that faded but never all the way. The younger menfolk all leaned in for a gander, then retched in disgust.

"Oh, pssh!" Maro fanned away the plea for sympathy.

"Milksop!" Marcus waggled a stew-sodden sliver of bread.

"Honestly?" even sweet Myron was insulted.

"'Twas a pity bargain and you know it!" Deke roared over the din, waving his fist like a rebel.

"Boys, boys, settle down, now! Let's put Morel out of her misery."

Mum finally stepped in to save Coris some dignity. As the silent, nail-gnawing Morel watched with bated breath, Mum ladled sausage-and-ale stew from a second, smaller earthen pot into Coris's bowl and handed it to him.

"We tried our best, milord. Wench winnae settle for no less than no local's opinion," grunted Dad, looking sheepish.

Coris chuckled as he stirred the bowl's contents. "Then you're in luck. I settle for no less than to be instantly transported home in one mouthful."

Morel, who had been apprenticing at the Crimson Hog since May Fest, had returned to Crosset just to prove her hand in the Fools' Week cooking contest, with Old Mother Gelda's name on the line. Eleven pairs of eyes watched unblinking as Coris levered a spoonful to his mouth and sipped, smacked his lips then glanced upward in reminiscence, their patience running dry.