Luminous

11 - The Choice ❣️

Baron Hadrian announced three nights of feasts to celebrate his heir's marriage. The castle gates were thrown open, beckoning the people of Hadrian to free food and entertainment. All castle troops were mobilized to vet visitors, safeguard important guests and maintain order in the vast courtyard.

Being the least experienced, the ten Crosset guards were to continue patrolling the keep. With guards focused on the grounds and walls to prevent harm from the outside, the bandits had a rare opening to scour the castle for whatever they were looking for. Meanwhile, the Crosset maids, including Arinel, had been set to work in the scullery.

The church bells tolled midnight. Time for the bride and groom to embark on their most important quest. Age-old tradition decreed newlyweds first be chased by a hoard of drunken guests round and round the Great Hall, then up the spiral staircase to their quarters. As wives' tales had it, the bride's garters were a good-luck charm of sorts. Likely the sort that had to do with the bedchambers.

Thanks to Meya's speed and Coris's lightweight frame, the couple dodged the lunging hands, slammed the door and bolt it before any pervert could get a hold of Meya's dress.

Panting and cursing under her breath, Meya slumped against the wood and slid to the floor. Coris staggered off, sinking onto the edge of his enormous bed, which threw up a comfy poof.

Meya surveyed the room. She could probably fit her whole house in here with some wriggle room. The roaring fireplace painted the bare whitewashed walls warm vermillion. The air was light and fresh—a chimney rose from the fireplace to the ceiling, capturing smoke.

The stained-glass windows were thrown wide open, letting the breeze tease the curtains. The naked floor was unblemished—heavy carpets must have protected it from the elements in winter. Shelves bursting with leatherbound books lined the walls, interrupted by paintings of picturesque sceneries and handsome, fierce-looking hounds.

Coris was provided his own heavy wooden study desk laden with thick tomes and scrolls of paper. His armor, sword, shield, bow, quiver and riding gear hung from a stand, shrouded by a thin red veil. The veil wasn't dusty. Yet a still, almost sacred air hung over the vicinity, as if it had been years since it was disturbed by more than a few ceremonial flicks of the feather duster.

Meya's eyes settled last upon the large white bed with its thick red-and-silver blankets. She shivered at the thought of what was bound to happen soon upon it.

"Lady Arinel?"

Meya jolted. She turned to Lord Coris and eked out a meek smile. She was a lowly peasant girl, after all. It felt weird having a nobleman address her as Lady and all that.

"Just Me—I mean, Arinel is fine, my lord."

Coris raised his eyebrows. Meya smiled even as cold fear froze her bowels as if she'd tipped a bucket of ice water down her throat. At last, Coris nodded.

"Arinel," He continued in a rush, "Forgive me, but I must know. Are you still—a virgin?"

Meya's eyes bulged as blood rushed to her cheeks. Her hands trembled in embarrassment and fury.

Ugh, men! How could he demand a girl answer such a private question? Especially his wife on her wedding day? If he'd been a peasant boy, she would've beaten the fluff out of him, but as things were, Meya had little choice but to oblige.

"Y-yes..."

Coris heaved a deep sigh as if he had foreseen her answer, blushing faintly himself. He stared straight into her eyes, solemn like she had never seen,

"If so, we need to talk."

Meya fidgeted under his scrutiny. She bit her lips and forced her eyes in place.