Luminous

113 - The Feast

A soft breeze caressed her eyelids, cold as the gray dawn. Meya opened her eyes. Fine curtains fluttered just beyond her reach. Through the window, Aynor was still blanketed in sleepy gray. Just underneath the chatter of early birds, she heard Mum's breathing, steady and slow. Dad was no longer snoring the room down from his spot by the fireplace. He insisted the hard floor was ideal for his aching back, but Mum and Meya knew better.

Meya smoothed her hand down her belly, sighing softly into the still air. The door creaked, then, followed by the rustle of delicate fabric chafing against prickly carpet material. A jolt of fear coursed through her—then she realized only a few would have access to their key. The staff probably would be better off stealing from the Hadrians down the hall. That leaves—

A pale, smiling face poked its way around the corner of the four-poster, completing her answer. Meya closed her eyes and sunk limply onto the bed. Her heart pounded faster as he crept nearer, then froze at the touch of his icy lips on hers. She resisted the urge to reciprocate, taunting him—but Lord Hadrian wasn't bred for meek surrender.

"Come now. I saw your eyes," he whispered between kisses and laughter. Meya smiled in the dark as she slid her hand around his nape.

"What in Fyr's name are you doing here?" She murmured.

"Delivering my regards to the May Queen—have her know I'm still breathing?" Coris moved on to nibble at her ear. Meya rolled her eyes in amusement,

"Bullcrap. You miss me already."

"How can't I?" Coris admitted suspiciously simply. His cool breath puffed into her ear, "Where there were five soft, warm, springy pillows wrapped in silk, only one remains to soothe my weary head."

Heat flushed Meya's cheeks quite a moment too late. She longed to sock him on his old sore spot, but Mum and Dad would definitely hear the impact. She settled for depriving him of air instead.

"—Uuummph!"

Coris sprang back, his spider hands waving desperately, eyes squeezed tight in pain. Meya relaxed her fingers and he pulled his nose free. After a moment of wary observation, he braved her fury again and nestled his head between his beloved pillows.

"Can't wait to see you in that dress—then out." He joked. At that, a chilling realization lit up Meya's brain like a bright shaft of light, shunting his cheeky remark to the side.

"Oh, Freda. I completely forgot." Meya breathed, eyes bulging in terror. Coris pulled away, blinking blankly, then caught up—

"You forgot!?" He hissed, building himself up to a Coris tantrum. Meya rolled her eyes as she launched straight into her tirade,

"Agh, come now. D'you expect me to remember after all that yesterday? And I didnae got the chance to. I was crying, Mum was hugging me, next thing I know 'tis dawn out the window—"

Coris waved her excuses aside with a careless hand.

"No matter. Soon as they're up, ask them. I'll be off—" He brushed her a farewell kiss as he rose—then froze halfway to his feet, wide silvery eyes fixed upon the thin air behind her. Meya didn't have time to decipher the implications before a familiar sweet, hoarse voice answered her worst nightmare—

"Ask us what?"

Meya rolled over. Mum had sat up beside her, arms crossed over her chest. Dad stood with one hand on the headboard, the other thankfully empty at his side, not brandishing his trusty sickle-on-a-broom-handle.

Coris bounced upright, his clammy hand lathering hers with sweat as he clutched it tight for dear life.

"Farmer Hild. Alanna. A splendid morning to you both!" He proclaimed heartily, dipped a graceful bow, then rambled with carefully planned fluster, "I apologize for coming to call so early. You see—after two months with Meya by my side—I can hardly bear being parted—"